The Art of Seduction Read Online Free Page B

almost beautiful.”
    Mason’s heart began to thump. He was getting exactly what she was after!
    â€œMoreover, the threat of the backgrounds is further neutralized in each of the paintings by the central image of a young woman. These women exude a beauty, a purity, a moral strength, and an awareness of their own sensuality that transforms the misery and peril of the world around them. At first, the paintings seem pessimistic. But the longer one looks at them, the more obvious it becomes that they are intensely hopeful and life-affirming. Look at this one. Obviously painted in the catacombs, the woman is surrounded by stacks of human skulls. A more unsettling reminder of our mortality you’d never want to see. Yet she’s by far the most powerful thing in the painting. A power that makes even our destiny of death seem beautiful.”
    Mason’s heart was racing now.
    He gestured again toward her self-portrait. “But for me, this is the most captivating of them all. She’s painted herself in what appears to be a battlefield. A horror that has brought her to her knees and stripped her bare. And yet, she’s rising from her knees, from the ashes, and giving us that exquisitely enigmatic hint of a smile. What is she telling us?”
    Mason looked away from the painting and into his eyes. “You tell me.”
    â€œShe’s telling us that the beauty of art can transcend and purify the horror of the world. Hardly the message of a woman about to kill herself, I admit. But that’s her tragedy. She succeeded in her mission, yet she didn’t know it.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “I wish I’d known her. I wished I’d been able to tell her just how magnificently she succeeded.”
    Mason couldn’t believe what she was hearing. For the first time in her life, she felt completely understood, accepted, appreciated.
    â€œWho are you?” she gasped.
    â€œMe? I’m nobody.”
    â€œAre you a critic? Or an artist yourself?”
    He chuckled, a deep rumble that seemed to emanate from his massive chest. “I’m not a critic or an artist or a collector. Just a chap who hangs about the art world. You might say I’m just an appreciator of art. But I know the real thing when I see it.”
    â€œYou must have a name.”
    He smiled, showing a flash of straight white teeth. “Garrett. Richard Garrett.”
    He extended a large hand that made hers seem miniscule in comparison. The touch of his firm, warm flesh sent a jolt through her senses.
    â€œAnd your name is…?” he prompted when she just stood holding his hand.
    â€œMa—” She caught herself just in time. She was so befuddled, so swept away, that she’d almost slipped and told him her real name. Shaking herself, she amended, “I’m Amy Caldwell from…Boston, Massachusetts.”
    â€œWell, Amy Caldwell from Boston, Massachusetts, I’d say you have a bit of a dilemma on your hands.”
    â€œDilemma?”
    â€œI assume you saw all those people lining up outside to buy your sister’s paintings. Tomorrow they’ll be able to sell them for five times what they paid for them today. And the day after that, those people will be able to sell them for ten times what they paid. There’s a phenomenon afoot and you need time to sit back, assess the situation, and find the proper strategy for dealing with it. Were I you, I’d stop this sale right now before it gets started.”
    Mason looked across the room and saw that Falconier was about to open the doors to the public and begin the sale. The gangster Juno Dargelos had already taken three canvases featuring Lisette off the wall and was waving a fistful of francs at Falconier’s back as Lisette continued to berate him for embarrassing her this way.
    Uncertain what to do, Mason glanced back at Garrett and asked, “Stop it? But isn’t that a bit like leaving the bride at the