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“Y/n,” someone called your name and you looked up from your laptop. “Lowell says you were chosen to go to the wedding this weekend.”
You made a face of confusion as you looked at the receptionist. There was a client getting married that weekend and it seemed that since you were on the team that handled their account, you were apparently being chosen as the sacrificial lamb to represent the company. You clearly didn't have a choice in the matter so you started clearing your schedule.
“Do I have to bring anything?” you didn't know what rich people liked (other than the souls of the innocent).
“No, the CEO already sent a gift, you just have to show up.” She handed you the invitation and turned to leave. “And rule of thumb, no more than 2 drinks and don't put it down anywhere.” She was an older woman who clearly knew what she was talking about having heard stories from company holiday parties.
You had come to see her as an Aunty and would feel better if she was there with you. “Do you want to come with me?”
Miss Abbey laughed and gave you a full chested “Hell No!!” and went back to her desk. “But if you need a new outfit, charge it to the company and bring in the receipt on Monday.”
After looking at the invitation for the dress code and location, you spent the rest of the day going through online retailers seeing what was available for black tie wedding guest attire that would fit you and could be reused for other events.
“I should start putting together a better wardrobe anyway.”
The venue was The Frick museum near central park and as it was now well into winter, you wanted something warm but stylish so you could fit in.
“I wonder if they would let us walk around.”
They currently had some pieces from François Boucher who was one of your favorite Rococo artists and you would love to see them. His paintings always looked like dreamy fairytails and the few times you had been able to see some in person, you lost hours staring at them.
By Friday afternoon you had a new outfit and coat ready for pick up after work and a game plan for how to get to the event and get home after. Again no one was available as a plus one so you again were going out on a solo adventure.
“Well then I just have to have the best time possible.”
The wedding was in the evening that Saturday so you had an easy morning getting ready. The outfit was a good size though you wanted to have it altered a bit at a later date, and the coat was thick enough to withstand the low temperatures for later. You chose to have a good lunch since you had heard rich people didn't like to eat and finally you got dressed and left to catch the subway.
The last time you had gone out alone you had crossed paths with a handsome yet mysterious man named Armand. You were too drunk to remember to ask for his number and had not seen him in the month since, but sometimes you could still hear his voice in your head.
“Would he have liked to come?”
He had called you ‘Mon petit courageux’ and you remember what you kind of hoped was a kiss before blacking out and waking up in your apartment the following morning hung over.
What if he was just a figment of your imagination? How early was too early for early onset dementia?
It took just under an hour to reach the venue and as you exited the station you found yourself in the fancier part of the city that you often gawked at through windows. You had to put your thoughts of wealth inequality to the side since you were here to represent your company for the evening.
The wedding was beautiful and even though you didn't know anyone, you did your best to network and exchange information with prospective clients or possible new friends during the extended cocktail hour. While they changed from the ceremony to the reception, guests were allowed to roam through the exhibits so you immediately found the Rococo section on the map and made your way over.
“First Floor, Room 8, West Vestibule. First Floor, Room 8, West Vestibule.” you repeated the directions as you wandered the halls and you found the first set of Boucher paintings. It was his Four Seasons set that, as it was named, showed romance through the seasons. Your favorite of the 4 was the Spring with it’s pastels and optimistic feelings. You stood as close as you could to see the details in the strokes. Quick simple flicks created flowers, vines, and trees that shielded the young lovers in whatever garden they were hiding in.
“Many things bloom in spring.” a voice said from behind you. “Love being one of them.”
When you turned around, you saw Armand standing next to you looking at The Four Seasons: Summer which depicted 3 women in various states of undress enjoying a fountain in the shade.
“Armand?” you were hoping to see him again but it was just wishful thinking and now a stroke of luck.
“Pleasure to see you again Y/n.” he stepped closer and also began admiring the Spring painting. “I take it you like Boucher.”
“Umm, yeah.” You wanted to look back at the art but he was much more interesting like always. He was dressed in dark colors like the night you met and he had a large coat protecting him from the cold. His hair was not as wild as last time but now combed into place making him look every part a member of high society you assumed he was. “Are you here for the wedding too?”
He finally looked directly at you and his eyes were just as intense as you remembered. “I’m afraid not. But members of the Frick are allowed to tour after hours if the museum is open for other events.” He looked you over slowly and you were very thankful that you had a new outfit on. “You look lovely.”
“Thanks!” you said a bit too eagerly as you gave him a little spin to show off the outfit. “Gotta look good when you're representing a major company.”
He asked what you meant and you told him about why you were even there. In remembering why you were even there, you checked the time and dinner wasn't going to start for another 30 minutes so you had time to wander a bit more.
“Have you been up to the Boucher room?”
You didn't know there was one. Armand offered to escort you to the second floor where it was hidden towards the back of the building and you pretended to swoon as you took his arm earning you a smile.
“I trust you made it home safely that night.” He asked as you went up the stairs. “You were quite, how did you say, wobbly whoopsie. But you refused to let me help you home.”
“Did I really say wobbly whoopsie?”
“I was alright.” you tried to hide your embarrassment.
Armand kept an eye on you as he allowed you to enter the show room first. “I’m glad. I don't think I would ever forgive myself if anything had happened to you. Mon petit courageux.”
You smiled as you turned your attention to the room. There were a handful of paintings and decorative items around and you took your time to inspect each piece. They had his The Arts and Sciences on display and you had seen scans back in college but didn't even know they were here in the city.
While you wanted to focus on the art, the enigma that was Armand was lurking in the corner of your vision. He could have blended in with the statues on the courtyard if you weren't paying enough attention. But you couldn't imagine not paying him enough attention.
“Oh they have a photo of the ‘dreaming shepardess’!” It was the piece that made you fall for his work all those years ago along with Girl with Roses. But something about the Shepherdess always made you feel so peaceful.
“You seem to be quite the art lover.” You hadn't realized how quiet it had been between the two of you. On the first floor, the music from the wedding had filled the space but somehow, up here, it was just the two of you and the blood rushing in your ears.
“I’ve always admired it but never been able to pursue it.” your family was the type that heavily encouraged you to pursue business and finance even though you had always preferred the arts. In their defence, they had come to this country with little more than a few dreams and now you had to do your part to make them come true.
You had sat on one of the benches provided and admired a pair of candelabras designed by Pierre Gouthiere. They were white porcelain with gold accents with spots for 3 candles each. Their tag said that they were made in 1782 and you tried to imagine what a simple little object like that could have seen in it’s 300 years. If pressed about it you could blame your childhood obsession with Lumier from beauty and the beast.
“But those are not your dreams, are they Mon cher?” he whispered as he slipped into the space next to you.
You were sure he didn't mean it but his question made you sad. “Some of us aren't allowed the luxury of worrying about things like that.”
His head tilted towards you for a moment as he mulled your words over.
“And here I thought you were all sunshine and smiles.”
His voice echoed in the space.
“The cross every eldest child must bare.” you shrugged and stretched in your seat.
“I hope you know I didn’t mean to offend.” he offered his hand for you to take. You remembered how nice it felt in yours that night so you accepted.
It was much warmer this time and only then you realized how cold you were. You had checked your coat at the door and as nice as the museum was, it was still an older building with a bit of a draft. Silently Armand moved to put his coat around you before taking your hand again. In the distance you could hear the wedding party making their entrance into the reception and you knew you should head back but you just couldn't muster the strength. Instead you rested your head on his shoulder.
“What is your favorite painting?” you asked not wanting to stew in the silence.
He took a deep breath and you didn't miss the slight shake in his exhale. “Adoration of the Shepherds.”
You had heard of that one before. “By Caravaggio?”
Caravaggio was an early baroque painter known for his use of light and shadow making it a rather dark piece with the light line guiding your eye from the shoulder of one of the visiting Wise men, down the painting to the newly born baby Christ.
“Ah, no.” he sat up a bit straighter. “My mistake. Though beautiful in it’s own right, his was a reinterpretation of the Adoration of the Shepherds with a Donor by Palma Vecchio.”
A free hand produced a phone and soon the screen lit up with a painting. This new painting was for sure a renaissance piece with brighter colors and that beautiful blue pigment you always liked. Here, instead of three Wise men there was just a boy in their place seeming to plead with the holy family.
“It’s beautiful.” you planned to look it up later to really inspect it.
You glanced over and saw a soft but sad look in Armand’s eyes. You wanted to ask what about the painting made him so emotional but it didn't feel right. Not yet at least.
Armand caught your stare and gave you a small smile. “I’m still waiting for the Louvre to sell it or misplace it.” he said the last part in a whisper as if he was planning the art heist himself. “And you, my little art connoisseur? What is your favorite painting?”
You smiled and pulled out your own phone. “The Kiss by Gustav Klimt.”
It was much more modern than either of the ones Armand had mentioned and for you teetered on the line between cubic and impressionist but still somehow seemed… real.
“I was able to see the Adele as a kid and it just stuck with me. I went in a deep dive into his stuff and something in The Kiss just made sense to me.” you remembered the strange but captivating portraits you saw. “One day I want to go see the real one.”
Just like that night in the park, Armand turned to face you. You could feel his eyes trying to figure you out but you were still focused on the painting on your phone. “Tell me why you like it.” For once the eagerness between the two of you wasn't one sided.
To you, it was a depiction of devotion and surrender. Loving someone enough to allow them to be the strength when you no longer had any.
“Je n'ai jamais vu d'artiste torturé qui ne soit même pas un artiste.”
There was a joke in there somewhere judging from the soft huff Armand spoke with, but you were focused on the hand slowly creeping up your back.
He had again pulled you against him and you felt like if you got any closer you would be in his lap. His nose was pressed to the crook of your neck. You could feel every breath and it was making you feel hot.
“I should probably get back.” you tried to regain focus and look anywhere else but his eyes froze you in place. They were bright and fiery, making him look… famished.
“Shall we pick up where we left off that night?”
You nodded and watched helplessly as he kissed the back of your hand and then the inside of your wrist. When his lips met yours it was less gentle than you expected but still welcomed as your hands found their way to his body as well.
“Forgive me Y/n.” As the kiss deepened you could still somehow hear Armand speaking to you. “I’ve held back as long as I could but you tempt me too much. Allow me, please, une petite gorgée.”
A small moan escaped you as he latched himself to your neck. You could feel fire in your veins as he sucked and your fingers made their way into his hair, pulling with each movement of his jaw.
“Yes.”
You were pushed back onto the bench and it felt so good to finally have his body on yours.
“Yes!”
Your shirt was now open somehow and Armand seemed to be a bit slobbery as you could feel something dripping but his cologne and a firm hand between your legs kept you distracted.
“Oh God Yes!!”
His grip on you tightened and you felt yourself slipping away, tumbling head over heels into the ecstasy.
~
Monday morning came and you stumbled into the office still buzzing from Saturday night.
You hadn't gone too far as there were still guests milling about but you did secure Armand’s number and a date for the following Saturday evening to have dinner.
You made your way to Mrs. Abbey to turn in your receipts and were surprised to get a vase of different flowers in various shades of purple and yellow in exchange.
“A handsome young thing came in and dropped these off for you this morning.” she smiled, handing you the card they came with.
“The Lover’s Embrace, by Armand de Romanus”