Chapter Thirty-five

MATTHEW'S POV

I could barely breathe. Shit. What was I doing here? There was a long queue filtering up the stone staircase into the grand hall of the Law Society. The building looked like it belonged in a period movie set, and most of us could pass for extras.

I pulled my collar a little, even though it wasn’t tight. I was so nervous. Remi had taken me into the city the day before, and we’d been kitted out for the event. When I’d agreed to go, I hadn’t thought much about the fact that we’d be going together. Like, a couple. Well, we weren’t a couple, I knew that. But for tonight, we were both dressed in our finest and about to eat two-thousand-euros-a-plate dinners, while bidding on art.

I’d usually be spending my evenings eating takeout and painting. Remi lived a life that was so out of my dreams it was crazy. Living with him since the accident had kept us in a little bubble, and I’d sort of forgotten who he really was.

But there was little chance of that tonight. Nearly every person that passed us acknowledged him. It was like being with a celebrity. Or royalty.

“You’re famous,” I whispered as we walked into the grand hall and were directed to our table.

“It’s just a small circle, and I’ve been around a long time.”

I nodded, but I knew Remi was being modest. He was important to these people, and it made me feel proud. Which was sort of odd.

We arrived at a round table with six beautifully dressed place settings. “They have my name?” I said, picking up the handwritten place name.

“I emailed it to them when I RSVP’d.”

“Oh.” I took my seat and glanced around the room, taking in the large, old paintings of judges that adorned the walls of the hall.

“I’ll introduce you to all the people at our table. Try to relax and just be yourself.” Remi took my hand under the table and squeezed it reassuringly. “Is your knee okay?”

“Yes, it’s fine.” I’d left the crutches at home and decided that he would be my crutch for the evening. A couple arrived at the table and launched into greeting Remi, exchanging kisses and hugs. He stood up, and I watched him intently.

He was striking in his white tux jacket, grey hair swept back and his short stubble longer and darker than usual. He was so sexy and smart, and I wondered how I’d even ended up here with him. How any of it had started. He could have any man he wanted and here he was with me.

“Matthew, this is Cora Foxford, she’s a human rights lawyer. And this is her brother, Hugo McMahon.”

I stood up carefully, trying not to lean on my leg as I shook both their hands.

“I know the name,” I said, still shaking Hugo’s hand and wondering how I recognised him.

“Hugo is the Director of the Irish National Gallery. That might be where you know him from,” Remi explained.

Fuck. This guy was the guy. He ran the biggest public gallery in Ireland and was on the board of the British Royal Gallery. Oh my god.

“Uh... Wow. That’s, yeah, probably where I recognise the name.”

Hugo smiled and shrugged. “Remi was saying you’re an artist?”

I felt my face burn. Damn it, why did he say that to this guy? He worked with real artwork -- Italian renaissance painters, French impressionists, and American modernists.

“Yes, I paint. A bit.”

Remi looked at me, his eyebrows knitting together in bemusement, and then he interrupted. “Matthew is being humble. He’s a fantastic artist. He’s working on a new series at the minute and looking for representation. He’s also been considering doing some part-time work in a gallery.”

“Really? That’s great. Did you apply to our Gallery?” Hugo asked.

I wanted to die. For the ground to open up and swallow me whole. “I did, actually. But I never heard anything back.”

“Oh, that’s strange. Where did you send the application to? I know HR are behind on the art assistant appointments.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t apply for an assistant position. I applied for the tour guide job.”

Both Hugo’s and Remi’s faces contorted into confused expressions as they exchanged looks.

“But Remi said you had studied fine art in university. Why would you not apply as an art assistant? You’re far too experienced and qualified to do the free tours we offer.”

I shrugged, feeling so unsure of why I hadn’t bothered to apply for the bigger job. But deep down, I knew it was because life had been so shit that I figured I didn’t have a chance.

“Can you do me a favour? Email me your resume on Monday. Remi, you give him my direct email.”

“Of course.” Remi turned to me and winked just as a bell rang, announcing the start of dinner. The room grew louder as the guests took their seats, and the lights lowered, the candles shrouding everything in a dreamy incandescence.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” I whispered as I pulled my seat closer to Remi.

“Sweetheart, you have to have a little more faith in yourself. I do.”

Another guest called him from across the table, and they started chatting while I sat back, lost in an ocean of wealth and opportunity. I’d fallen overboard and found myself in some parallel universe. One where money wasn’t a problem and dreams did come true. And one where the most incredible man I’d ever met called me his sweetheart. How could I ever leave this?