Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
DMITRI
Two days later, Dmitri still didn’t have any idea who the man he’d had dinner with had been, and it frustrated him. Analisse was no help at all since he wasn’t one of her employees, though she had offered him a discount the next time he asked for one of her boys. Dmitri wasn’t sure that was going to happen. Her amusement at his predicament was irritating.
Still, he hated to show up at these parties without someone on his arm; someone young, beautiful, impeccably dressed, and, of course, wearing Dmitri’s most fabulous creations. The number of pieces he’d sold because of this strategy was staggering.
While Morgan hadn’t been as devastatingly handsome as most of the men Dmitri hired, there had been something about him that—days later—Dmitri couldn’t name but definitely felt in the way his skin tingled, his cock twitched, and the simple but irrefutable fact that Dmitri could not stop thinking about him. Some of it was an insatiable curiosity about how they had ended up having dinner together—the odds of two men arriving at the same restaurant with no idea who they were meeting and both being stood up had to be astronomical—but most of it was firmly rooted in a desire to see Morgan again because Dmitri had felt a connection to the man, an attraction he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Dmitri had tried searching online for real estate agents named Morgan, but his searches had been fruitless. He only knew Morgan’s first name, so that made the search more difficult, but either Morgan was so far down in the hierarchy at an established agency he wouldn’t be listed or he didn’t use his real name for work because nothing showed up. It could also be possible he hadn’t given Dmitri his real name as well, but that didn’t seem likely. If he’d been one of Analisse’s boys, he could see that being the case, but Morgan had thought he was on a real date—and a very promising real date at that—so giving a fake name made no sense.
All in all, it was maddening and he’d be much better off if he could forget about Morgan and move on.
But.
Not only couldn’t he move on, meeting Morgan had lit a spark inside him. Their conversation, their chemistry, that kiss…if for nothing more than that kiss, Dmitri would want to find Morgan again and discover if there was more to this connection. But his physical desire for Morgan was just the start of it. Since their dinner, Dmitri’s creativity had been on fire. He’d nearly filled an entire sketchbook with ideas for new designs, all of them fueled by the thought of them adorning Morgan in some way. Rings, bracelets, pins, necklaces, earrings: an entire new line inspired by the man he’d known for less than two hours and might never see again.
The designs reflected that. They were ephemeral, impossibly light and fragile-looking, appearing as if they might shatter at the lightest touch. All of that was an illusion and belied the strength and cohesion of each piece. This collection was going to be a masterpiece, Dmitri could tell, and he wanted nothing more than to tease at its release by showing a few proto-type pieces at the upcoming parties, especially if Morgan would be the one wearing them.
A knock on his front door brought Dmitri out of his creative reverie, and he immediately glanced at the clock on the wall of his home studio. It was one o’clock. Just as he started to wonder who would be interrupting him, he heard the front door open.
“Hello? Dimi?”
Of course. He and his assistant had a standing meeting on Mondays at one. Dmitri closed up his sketchbook and cast an uneasy eye at the mirror on the back of his studio door. He was in jeans and a chunky, gray sweater; comfortable, working at home, not going to see anyone attire, but not the clothing in which he preferred to be seen by others. Still, there was nothing for it. Brody was already in his house. Cursing himself for giving his assistant a key, Dmitri headed downstairs.
“Are you feeling all right, Dimi?” Brody asked as soon as he saw Dmitri.
“I’m fine. Busy with some new designs, that’s all.”
Brody’s eyes lit up beneath his perfectly groomed and arched brows. “Amazing,” he said, nearly bouncing on his toes. “When do I get to see?”
Most days, Dmitri tolerated his assistant because Brody was the best he’d ever had at keeping his schedule under control, managing his social media accounts, and running his showroom. The man had exceptional organizational skills, knew everyone from party planners and stylists to dog walkers and pool cleaners, and was virtually unflappable even in the face of Dmitri’s ire.
“I’m still playing with the designs, but I think this might be the start of an entire line,” Dmitri said as he motioned for Brody to follow him into the living room.
Dmitri’s house was a beautifully and sympathetically restored craftsman in the Berkeley Hills, full of dark wood, inlaid hardwood floors, built-in cabinets, and a chef’s dream of a kitchen. The house was full of artwork Dmitri had collected over the years, often trading his work for that of a painter or sculptor, until he had the kind of environment he had always dreamed of. Best of all, though, the house and the neighborhood in which it sat was quiet and peaceful. Though Dmitri had a showroom in Union Square, and a workshop and foundry in Oakland where a team of skilled artisans who brought his designs to life, most of his creative time was spent in his upstairs studio.
“You know, we could start doing a teaser campaign on social media,” Brody said as he sat on the couch and pulled his computer out of his messenger bag. “Don’t show the new designs, but hint at them in reflections or show people reacting to them. Bring the influencers in and have them be part of the campaign. Maybe do a bit of a storyline that culminates in a reveal when you’re ready to debut the collection. Or…” Brody practically bounced on the couch cushions. “We could do a Lord of the Rings thing, like the forging of the new pieces, and people falling under their thrall.”
Dmitri smiled as he considered the suggestions. While Brody’s enthusiasm was sometimes annoying, Dmitri appreciated his creativity and willingness to say whatever came into his head.
“Do you want coffee?” Dmitri asked as Brody began to type, the keyboard clicking away as his fingers flew over the letters.
“Yes, please,” Brody said without looking up.
Chuckling, Dmitri headed for his kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two mugs of coffee, one with sugar and cream, and one black. He put the polluted one on a coaster next to Brody’s computer and settled into his favorite chair, a Jonathan Adler Beaumont lounger in a plush gold velvet, and waited for Brody to finish typing while he sipped his own coffee. Thoughts about his designs floated through his head, and Dmitri itched to be back in his studio as a new idea began to form.
Since Brody was still focused on his computer, Dmitri got up and headed for his studio, returning to the living room with his sketchpad. Flipping to a new page, he put down a few quick lines to indicate a man’s silhouette. Of course, it was Morgan—all of his new design ideas had been created on the blank canvas of Morgan’s neck, his wrists, his fingers, the lapel of the jacket he’d worn at dinner…
“Who’s this?”
Brody hung over the back of Dmitri’s chair. He’d been so engrossed with his sketches that he hadn’t noticed Brody moving, and now it was too late. There was no way Brody was going to let Dmitri close up the sketchbook and move on. Sure enough, Brody was snapping his fingers and gesturing for Dmitri to hand it over.
“Why do I keep paying you?” Dmitri asked as he passed the sketchbook to Brody with a resigned sigh.
“Because I’m fabulous at my job, and no one else can keep your grumpy ass organized as well as I can. At least that’s what you told me when you gave me my bonus last year.”
Brody flashed his right hand at Dmitri, displaying the diamond and sapphire ring that had been part of said bonus along with a nice-sized check. Still…
“I am pretty sure I never admitted to having a grumpy ass,” Dmitri said as he watched Brody settle back on the couch and start flipping through pages.
“I paraphrased. Now hush while I look at these amazing designs.”
The room was silent for the next several minutes except for the sound of Brody turning pages, his occasional intake of breath, and his near-constant hum of approval. As much as Dmitri resented anyone seeing his designs while they were still rough concepts, he had to admit that Brody’s obvious appreciation for the new work was gratifying.
In the five years that Brody had worked for him, his assistant had demonstrated a remarkably keen eye for what pieces would do well in the stores, and a near-perfect track record for identifying individual pieces to keep as one-offs for specific clients. With the exception of the ring Brody wore, he’d been spot on, though Dmitri suspected that Brody had made his recommendation with the hope it wouldn’t sell and he’d be given it, which had been Dmitri’s plan all along. But why spoil Brody’s fun by telling him the truth?
“These are incredible, Dimi,” Brody said as he looked up from the sketchbook. “But who is this man?”
Brody turned the book around so Dmitri could see the first sketch he’d done of Morgan. He’d started drawing because he couldn’t get Morgan out of his head, but as soon as he picked up his pencil, the ideas of how to adorn Morgan started flowing. That first drawing, though, it was all Morgan, front and center with no jewelry.
“Dimi?”
“Someone I met Friday night.” Dmitri scowled and hoped Brody would take the hint.
“Ah. The new boy from Analisse?”
“No.” Dmitri’s curt answer was punctuated by him rising abruptly from his chair and starting to pace. He shook his head. “He was supposed to be, but…” He shrugged, opened his mouth to explain, then shut it because the entire situation was preposterous and infuriating.
Brody’s eyes danced with amusement. “Dmitri Novikov. You met someone.” Clapping his hands, Brody laughed. “Tell me about him, please.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Dmitri growled.
“Au contraire.” Brody flipped to another sketch and turned it to face Dmitri, who groaned in embarrassment. This sketch was of a bare-chested Morgan, something Dmitri had employed his imagination to create, but it suited the elegant necklace that highlighted the exquisite collarbones Dmitri had only caught a glimpse of through the open collar of Morgan’s shirt. “Exhibit A. There’s definitely something here to tell. So spill the tea, mon ami.”
“Could we just go over my schedule, please?”
Brody put the sketchbook on the coffee table and sat back with his arms crossed. “No. This man obviously means something to you, and it’s been a long time since that has happened. Who is he?”
“I don’t know.” Dmitri stopped pacing and turned to face Brody. “I went to the restaurant. There was a man sitting by himself at the table, but obviously waiting for someone. He looked up when I entered, nodded to me, so I assumed he was the new boy Analisse had sent for the meeting.”
“And?”
“And we hit it off very well. He was charming and engaging, funny, intelligent?—”
“And handsome.”
“And handsome, yes. All that. At the end of the evening, I…” Dmitri hesitated.
“You what?” Brody leaned forward, then opened his eyes comically wide. “You didn’t.”
“It was only a kiss.”
For a moment, Brody stared at Dmitri in shocked silence, then he waved at the new designs. “There was no ‘only’ about that kiss if this is the result. But why is this a problem? He didn’t turn you down, did he?”
“No. I don’t think so.” Dmitri started pacing again. “I don’t know. I thought he was one of Analisse’s, so I didn’t get his contact info, but when I called her, she said the boy who was supposed to meet me had to cancel at the last minute. Which is when I realized, I have no idea how to find him. All I have is his first name and the fact that he’s in real estate.”
“That’s fine,” Brody said as he pulled his computer toward him. “It’s not much, but it should be?—”
“It’s not. I looked. I can’t find him.”
“You are not me.” Brody cracked his knuckles. “Now tell me everything you know about this mystery man, and let me get to work.”