Chapter 3
Chapter Three
G areth Tate’s gallery showing was a who’s who from San Francisco all the way down to Monterey Bay, including Silicon Valley.
Troy had sent a limousine—complete with a bottle of the best champagne—to pick up Michaela and Flo at the townhouse and drive them down to Carmel.
And now he was squiring them around the gallery, making introductions.
Though Michaela had dealt with a lot of billionaires through her work, this was different.
She had to admit to being a bit bowled over by the number of amazing artists.
Troy introduced them to Charlie Ballard and Sebastian Montgomery, who were both renowned for their work, Charlie as a metal sculptor and Sebastian for his ink drawings.
Michaela had read in the gossip columns that they’d recently been married in Las Vegas.
Even the venue was striking. The floors were polished concrete, the walls white to show off the brilliant colors of the paintings.
More artwork hung on partitions of white fabric.
In the far corner of the main room, next to a long buffet table, two bartenders served mixed drinks while servers made the rounds of the gallery with trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne flutes.
The ceilings were high, and so was the relative noise level.
Patrons of the arts roamed the rooms, studying the work or talking in small groups.
Troy introduced the man of the hour, Gareth Tate.
Tall, with short auburn hair, he wore a tailored black tux that showcased his form as well as the gallery showcased his art.
Adrian Fielding, the pretty, petite blonde clinging to him like arm candy, was actually his agent.
The sparkle in their gazes, however, said they were much more than agent and artist.
After shaking Gareth’s hand, Michaela said, “I haven’t had time to go through the gallery yet, but what I’ve seen of your work so far is amazing.”
Her mother added, “The one titled Self Portrait is so intense and brimming with emotion.” Then she leaned close to say softly, “I like it better than any of Van Gogh’s self-portraits.”
Gareth bowed his head slightly in gratitude, and Adrian seemed to beam with pleasure. Michaela knew her mother had said the right thing. But then, that was Flo, always with the right words at the right moment.
They were joined by another young couple, the woman with long, glistening black hair, wearing a flowery tunic sweater, black leggings, and combat boots, the man tall and dark-haired, with brilliant blue eyes so like Troy’s that he was obviously a brother.
Troy started the introductions. “This is my brother Clay—” Of course it was. “—and Saskia Oliver, who you will also know as the street artist San Holo.” Then he turned to Michaela and Flo. “And this is Mi?—”
Michaela glared, knowing he was about to give her another nickname.
She didn’t laugh, even though it was rather endearing.
First, that he was a nickname kind of guy, and second, that he couldn’t resist ribbing her.
But she couldn’t let him get away with it, and her glare cut him off, forcing him to say, “Michaela Killian and her beautiful mother, Flo Killian.”
Michaela graced them both with a smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Clay regarded her with speculation, probably wondering why she was here with her mother, as if that somehow had something to do with her relationship to Troy.
But until she met Gabby, the sister Troy wanted to match, she wasn’t about to reveal the true reasons for her attendance.
As she opened her mouth, her mother said, “Michaela and I are such art lovers. When we heard about this showing for an amazing debut artist—” She looked with admiration at Gareth. “—we knew we couldn’t miss it.”
Gareth bowed slightly at her mother’s words.
Flo touched Saskia’s arm. “I saw your spotlight on Good Morning USA . Michaela and I must get up to San Francisco to see your work.”
The pretty woman smiled, flushing slightly as if she were shy.
She didn’t seem to have a snobbish bone in her body, though her art popped up all over the world.
San Holo, the pseudonym she used for her work, was almost as famous as Banksy.
And there’d been that recent scandal about the ownership of the art she’d done several years ago. It had been fascinating.
“Saskia and Clay have just returned from a driving tour and reading retreat in Europe,” Troy said.
“Saskia, working with several of our Maverick virtuosos, is starting a mural on Clay’s warehouse up in the city.
” They discussed all the Mavericks who would be involved—Charlie, Sebastian, Rosie Jones, and also Gareth.
“You have to come up and see it,” Troy said, setting his glittering gaze on Michaela, then Flo.
Clay shook a finger at his brother. “You know San Holo’s work is kept completely under wraps until it’s completed.”
Unperturbed, Troy said, “Then I’ll be happy to take the ladies up there once it’s finished.”
Michaela almost raised her eyebrows at that, but she didn’t want to appear bowled over by his suggestion, as if their relationship were something more than matchmaker and client. Potentially .
But before she could answer, Flo beamed at him. “I would love that, Troy.” Then to Saskia, she said, “It would be such an honor to be among the first to see your work.”
Michaela was glad her mother hadn’t included her in that statement. She could always back off by telling Troy he was taking only her mother.
And yet she would love to see San Holo’s newest work.
No, she told herself sternly. No way. She didn’t mix business with pleasure. And she wouldn’t mix at all with Troy Harrington, even if she agreed to take his sister on as a client.
Adrian and Gareth begged off the conversation then so that Gareth could mingle with other admirers of his work. That also gave Troy the impetus to move on with his introductions around the gallery.
They were approached by Gideon Jones, whom Michaela had read about in the gossip columns.
Reading all the latest gossip was part of her job; she needed to learn about any potential clients.
Although Gideon Jones would never be one of them, not with the pretty woman by his side, whom Troy introduced as Gideon’s wife, Rosie.
Michaela already knew that Gideon was the founder of Lean on Us, a foundation for the benefit of veterans—because he was a vet himself—and foster kids—because his sister had been a foster kid.
Out of curiosity, when she’d read about Lean on Us, she’d looked it up and learned that his foundation gave an unheard-of eighty-five percent of its donations to the people it served.
She’d read about his wife too, a beautiful woman, her curly dark hair cascading over her shoulders.
They made quite a contrast, Gideon’s height to her petiteness.
“I’m afraid I didn’t make it to your show up in San Francisco in January,” Michaela said.
“But I read some of your reviews. Your art was a hit. You’re an amazing artist.”
Rosie blushed. “Thank you.”
Her blush deepened when Flo said, “We’ve been hearing about San Holo’s mural in the city. I’m sure your additions to it will make the work incredible.”
Rosie seemed nonplussed by the admiration, but said, “Thank you both so much.”
Gideon put his arm around her. “The mural will be the most incredible that San Francisco has ever seen.” Then he jutted his chin at Troy. “I’ve been meaning to call you. We have several young people aging out of the foster care system.”
“Dylan’s one of them, right?” Troy asked.
“Absolutely.” Obviously for Michaela and Flo’s benefit, Gideon added, “Dylan is a protégé of Clay and San Holo. He’s got amazing talent. He’ll be helping with the mural as well.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “And he’s not even eighteen?” Amazement filled her voice.
Gideon beamed as if he were the boy’s father.
“His work is fantastic. I’m also one of his mentors.
” Then he clapped Troy on the back. “I’d like you to come talk to them.
It’ll be an informal thing, not like one of your usual inspiring talks in a high school auditorium or whatever.
I’d like you to give them some insight into how you got where you are. It’ll be motivating for them.”
Troy didn’t even take the time to think about it or check his calendar. “Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”
The way he jumped at the chance impressed Michaela. So he gave inspirational talks to young people. Despite what she’d read online about him, she hadn’t known that.
“I’ll send you all the deets,” Gideon said. “If the time doesn’t work, we can change it.”
Troy shook his head, “No need. I’ll make it work.”
He was so accommodating. In fact, every one of these billionaires seemed so darned nice. No arrogance, no cold shoulders, no you’re-beneath-me glances.
It was amazing.
After Gideon and Rosie moved on, Troy explained, “Gideon runs a philanthropic foundation called Lean on Us.”
“I’ve read about him,” Flo said. “He’s quite a remarkable man.”