Gemma

I ran my finger over the shipment invoice to ensure we had received everything we were supposed to. My love of French and art brought me to Paris two years ago and I never left. I marked the last item, satisfied everything was in order and ready to be added electronically to the inventory along with the rest. I envied the people who could afford such beautiful work, but at least I could handle stunning pieces of art daily.

", I need to go. My daughter took a fall in school. Please can you ensure ‘Tartarus' is given to Mr Charon?"

I glanced up at my manager in dismay.

"It's sold already?" I said before I realised that I cared more about that painting than asking after his daughter's well-being.

"It was purchased last night," he said as he shrugged his jacket on.

"Yeah, that's no problem. I will deal with it. I hope your daughter is okay."

"Thanks, hopefully, it's not too bad. Cuts and scrapes I can deal with, but not broken bones. Lucie is due to come in to cover me, but it might take her a few hours to get here."

"I will add the inventory on once Lucie comes," I said, standing up and wiping a few bits of the cardboard packing from my skirt.

"Mr Charon is a frequent buyer, so give him anything he needs."

I raised an eyebrow but nodded my head. I'd worked my ass off to get into the position I was in, but I had to bite my tongue frequently at some of the rude clientele.

∞∞∞

The morning was slow on the floor, and I wished I could return to fondling the new pieces of art I'd left in the wooden crate. I couldn't take a final look at Tartarus because it had been wrapped up already.

I heard the door open as the busy sounds of the street and its people violated the peaceful silence in the gallery. The man who strode inside had an almost regal look about him, from the way, he held himself rigid and upright. His walk was self-assured.

His eyes wandered around our latest collection, giving me more time to study him. I was usually good with guessing ages, but with him, I couldn't tell. He could be anything from thirty to forty. He was more than handsome with his high cheekbones and chiselled jawline with a dark goatee beard. His black hair was slicked back, and he wore an expensive suit with a crisp white shirt. This man was rich. I didn't need to look at his shoes or watch to confirm my observation.

He turned his head very slowly and looked straight into my eyes. I swallowed nervously because his eyes were black. Not dark brown but black. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I've not seen you here before," he said in a deep voice, but something was wrong about him.

His words came out softly, but he made me want to get the fuck away from him. I frowned because I didn't know where these thoughts were coming from. He was simply a potential client so I put on my fake saleswoman smile.

"I've worked here for two years. Please let me know if you need any assistance," I said politely, wishing I was working in the back right now.

He turned the rest of his body towards me as he approached me. As much as I wanted to run towards the checkout desk to put some space between us, I couldn't because neither Lucie nor Alain were present and I couldn't hide in the backroom. It was too late. He stood so close to me that I had to take a step back before I looked up at him. My eyes widened when his black eyes flashed red, and his nostrils flared up.

What the fuck was he?

His eyes flickered, and they turned black, but his nostrils were still sniffing the air, which made me want to sniff myself.

What the fuck? I had showered this morning .

I eyed the checkout counter because there was a police alarm on it. The need to press it had never arisen, but this man was dangerous. He looked normal from a distance but the raised hairs on the back of my neck and goosebumps on my arms were a stark warning for me.

I needed him to leave. The sooner, the better .