Julian struggled against the hand holding his wrist. When he could not pull free, the fury on his face gave way to embarrassment.
Guests had stopped talking to watch him. His gaze darted around the silent gallery and landed on the breast pocket of his tuxedo.
The hand released him. Julian yanked his arm back and straightened his jacket. “You want to play games?” He pulled out a checkbook and a gold pen.
“Fine.”
He raised his voice for the gallery. “You want independence? You want to be an *artist*?”
His pen scratched across the check. “I’m buying the entire exhibition. Every pathetic painting. Then you’re coming home, and we’ll forget this embarrassing episode.”
He tore out the check and thrust it at me. The number had enough zeroes to cover years of rent. He held it inches from my f
