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MARKED BY PASSION—February 2009
"Gabrielle Sansouci Chin?"
I froze. In the twelve years I'd been bartending at The Pour House, no one had ever called me anything but Gabe, much less pronounced Sansouci correctly—sahn-soo-si—with a French accent to boot. But what startled me most was the use of Chin, the last name I'd dropped fifteen years ago.
Eyes narrowed, I stopped stocking the refrigerator behind the bar and turned around. A tall hulk of a man stood on the other side of the counter with a package in his hand.
It had to be the contract—I wasn't expecting any other deliveries. My stomach lurched as I stared at the thin box. Probably nerves.
I looked at the guy again. He was more well-groomed than your typical deliveryman. Custom suit and manicured nails. More like Lloyd's of London than FedEx. Weird for a courier. Gallery 415 must employ a higher quality service than most.
His brow furrowed. "Are you Gabrielle Sansouci Chin?"
"Yeah, I'm Gabrielle." How did the gallery know my real last name? I only went by Sansouci, my mother's maiden name. Whatever. As long as they sold my paintings, they could call me whatever they liked—even Chin.
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CHOSEN BY DESIRE—February 2010
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