Theo went to take a shower then, and an hour later he was wearing a dark suit and white shirt, and a red tie, on his way to the restaurant, in his ancient deux chevaux. Chloe didn’t like his car either, and couldn’t understand why he didn’t buy a better one. He was hardly a starving artist, even though he liked looking like one. He was tall and handsome in the dark suit, with his dark hair brushed. He had dark brown eyes like his father, and he had the unconsciously good looks of Italian men. His mother appeared more French. He had an innate style about him that women loved.
Maylis was in the kitchen, talking to the chef, when he got to the restaurant. She went over the menu carefully every day, and she had been tasting some of the amuse-bouches, and was telling the chef they were exceptionally good that night. She smiled when she saw her son. He sauntered into the kitchen, looking strikingly attractive, and she thanked him for coming in. And then she hurried off to check something in the garden again, as Theo chatted with the waiters. They all thought he was a nice guy. And then they all took their places. Theo and his mother were ready and waiting when the first guests arrived at eight o’clock. Another night of unforgettable dining at Da Lorenzo had begun.
—
Vladimir and Natasha left their cabin, made their way downstairs to the lower aft deck, and walked past all the speedboats and toys they had onboard, to where the tender was waiting to take them to shore. It was a high-speed boat Vladimir had had built for three million dollars and particularly enjoyed. It was designed to outrun anyone on the water, and they were at the dock of the H?tel du Cap within minutes, where one of the crew members of the boat had Vladimir’s Ferrari waiting for him at the hotel. He sometimes took a bodyguard in a chase car, but all was peaceful in his world at the moment, and he didn’t feel he needed one tonight. He got behind the wheel of the car, and they took off. It would be a short ride to St. Paul de Vence in the fast car.
Natasha put her seatbelt on as Vladimir turned on the radio, and played a CD he knew Natasha loved. He was in a festive mood, and looking forward to dinner and seeing the art at the restaurant. And Natasha was exceptionally pretty in a short pale pink dress she hadn’t worn before. It was Chanel haute couture with a demure little lace schoolgirl collar and no back that he had selected for her, with matching sandals in the same color. She looked exquisite, as always.
“I like your new dress.” He smiled at her admiringly as they got on the road, and she nodded, pleased that he had noticed, although he’d picked it himself. She had worn her hair down and looked very young. He was wearing a white linen suit, which set off his tan from being on the boat. With the exception of a few hours in his office that morning, they had spent the day relaxing and lying in the sun. And they both had deep tans. “I love it. You look like a little girl, until you turn around.” The dress showed off her perfectly tanned back with no bra line. She always sunbathed topless on the boat. And the back of the dress was cut down to her waist. The dress was sexy and innocent all at the same time. “I’m interested to see the art tonight,” he said, as they drove along. Their reservation was at eight-thirty, and he wanted to look around before they sat down to dine.
“So am I,” she said easily, as they drove with the top down. The night was warm, and she had tied her hair back for the brief ride to St. Paul de Vence. It took them half the normal time to get there in the Ferrari, the way he drove, and an attendant took their car when they arrived at the restaurant, which from the street seemed like an ordinary, rambling house. They stepped into a courtyard through an archway, as the parking attendant roared away in the Ferrari and a woman in a black dress with snow-white hair in a bun walked toward them with a smile. Maylis had recognized Vladimir immediately. As she approached them and introduced herself as Madame Luca, she glanced at Natasha with interest.
“Your table will be ready in five minutes. Would you like to walk around inside the house and see Lorenzo’s work first?” she asked as though they were friends, and Vladimir nodded, pleased that they had time for a quick look before dinner.
Natasha followed him into the house, as she let down her hair. The walls were white so as not to distract from the art, and instantly they were surrounded by Lorenzo’s work. The paintings were all hung close together because there were so many of them, and the subtleties of his palette and the masterful quality of his brushstrokes struck them immediately. When Vladimir stopped to admire a painting of a beautiful young woman, they both recognized her as the woman who had greeted them. And beneath the painting was a small bronze plaque that said “Not for Sale.” Vladimir was mesmerized by the painting, and could barely tear himself away to move on to the next one. Natasha was impressed by all of them as she walked from one to the other, and noticed the same bronze plaque below each one.
“Well, it’s clearly not a gallery,” he said, looking slightly irritated, after noticing all the “Not for Sale” signs too. They toured the room, then walked down a hall lined with his work and into another room. None of the paintings were for sale. “She treats it like a museum,” Vladimir commented.
“I read about it online today. This is all her collection, and supposedly she has many, many more in storage and in his studio,” Natasha explained. She liked being well informed when they went somewhere, and sharing the information with him.
“It’s ridiculous not to sell any of them,” he said as they walked back into the first room, and Natasha was aware of a young man in a dark blue suit watching them. He had dark hair and deep brown eyes, but didn’t speak to them. Natasha could sense that he was watching her intently, and then he walked back outside. She had been struck by his serious brown eyes. And she noticed him again as they walked into the garden, where Maylis was waiting to escort them to their table. She smiled at them as they sat down, and couldn’t help thinking how beautiful Natasha was, and how perfect her features were, and then Maylis turned her attention back to Vladimir.
“Did you find your walk around the house interesting?” she asked pleasantly.
“I noticed that nothing was for sale.” Vladimir looked serious when he answered her. And he didn’t seem happy about it. She nodded in response.
“That’s right. We don’t sell his work. This is part of the family collection. My husband was represented by a gallery in Paris. Bovigny Ferrand.” Gabriel had had a partner initially, whom he had bought out years before, but kept the name, since it was already well known by then, and he had paid Georges Bovigny handsomely for it.
“They have none of his work to sell either.” He had inquired. “I understand that his work never comes on the market anymore,” Vladimir said with an intense expression.
“Not since his death twelve years ago,” Maylis said politely.