Once we arrived there and I’d paid the driver, I led Mason into the building.
“I have to say I’m impressed,” he muttered as he took in all the gilt and marble.
“Yes, it’s quite comfortable,” I murmured as we exited the lift.
He glared at me. “I meant this doesn’t strike me as the sort of place where a person like you would live.”
“Oh? And where did you think I would live?”
“In the bohemian sections of Paris.”
I tsked and escorted him to the flat, a hand under his elbow because I knew how uncomfortable that made him. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
He glanced around the room. “Where’s the Faun?”
“If you’ll wait here?” I knew he wouldn’t wait, that he’d want to see where I had secured the statue. I walked into the bedroom to the painting of almond blossoms that hung on the far wall.
“Is that a Van Gogh?”