The Dark Arts: The Complete Duet 

On the surface, she was lucky to have his attention tonight. He was good-looking, wealthy, and, at least to the untrained eye, seemed cultured. Odds were good. He wouldn’t belch out the National Anthem, at least.
“I was just telling them you’re an art forger.”
Of course, he was. There was polite, uncomfortable laughter as they waited for offence or denial. Saskia smiled mildly and took another sip of her champagne as the group pressed in closer.
“So it’s true, then?” one of the older ladies asked, her eyes wide.
“Don’t get too excited. I don’t pass them off as real. I sell them as reproductions. They’re all long-dead artists. There’s nothing illegal about it.”
Except maybe this one she was about to do. The artist in question was still somewhat recently deceased. That made things tricky from a legal standpoint. But Lachlan assured her he’d gained permission from the artist’s estate to have the reproduction made. And as if by magic, he’d produced the official-looking paperwork to prove it. Saskia wasn’t sure if the papers were legit, but she was too hungry to grill him meaningfully. One of the men seemed intrigued. He offered his hand as if at a business meeting. “Nolan,” he
said. His grip was firm. He dropped Saskia’s hand a split second before she could pull away.
“What’s the market for something like that?” he asked.
The night might not be a total waste after all. There was lots of alcohol flowing and shallow people with money in their pockets to burn. Perhaps she could pick up some small potatoes. If you knew what you were doing, you could make potatoes stretch almost as far as ramen. She blushed, feeling somewhat pinned down by the intensity of his stare and the way he pulled her into him with such focus. There was something hawk-like in his features, which seemed fitting, given how much she felt like prey.
“More than you’d think. They make good conversation starters—novelties mostly. But there are dry spells as with any business,” she said.
Lachlan’s hand drifted down her back in a proprietary way, coming to a stop just shy of public scandal. She shrugged out of his grasp and sent him a tight smile. He returned it with that same dark look she’d received from across the room moments before.
“I’m trying to talk her into doing a piece for me,” Lachlan said as if it weren’t already a done deal between them.
“Oh, yeah, which one?” Nolan asked.
“The Joseph Quill piece.”
“Ah. So the owner won’t sell?”
Lachlan shook his head. “I offered more than it was worth. They still refused. So, I’ve resigned myself to a fake that will look more real than the real deal. Or so I’m told by Miss Roth here.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to touch up my makeup,” Saskia said.