There was no sign of the man himself, although Pepper was surprised to discover the sketch she had done of him in Lisbon hanging on one of the walls. Finn must have moved it here from his flat.
Bending over to peer at the label underneath, she saw a circular red sticker next to some German words that she could not decipher.
‘It says, “not for sale”.’
Pepper wheeled around, her heart a tight fist.
It was Finn.
Chapter 50
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
They simply stood and stared at each other, a smile playing around Finn’s lips but an intensity in his eyes. Pepper had forgotten how it felt to be held within his gaze, to feel as though she was stuck fast to a web of mutual desire.
‘Hey, you,’ she managed at last. ‘It’s really good to see you.’
Finn beamed at her.
‘Ja, very good,’ he agreed. ‘Thank you for coming, I know it is a very long way, a very big deal. But can you believe it? I did it.’
‘You most certainly did.’ Pepper looked around in admiration. ‘It’s incredible,’ she told him. ‘You are incredible.’
Finn nodded in agreement, and Pepper had to fight an absurd desire to laugh. He looked as good as she had ever seen him look this evening, in a sharp navy suit and emerald-green tie embroidered with – Pepper squinted – pelicans.
‘Love the tie!’ she said. ‘Very apt.’
‘It was you who gave me the idea. I am sad not to see the pelicans on you tonight, although this dress is very nice,’ he said, raising a hand as if to touch her, then lowering it again.
‘They were toucans,’ she reminded him, and Finn laughed.
‘Toucan, pelican – potato, kartoffel.’
Pepper could feel herself being drawn into his bubble, could sense the room around them being smudged away as she focused on him, and only him. Now that she was so close to Finn again, her body ached for him, her cheeks flushed with tell-tale longing. All she wanted to do was lie back and let the pleasure wash over her – over both of them.
‘Come.’ Finn put a warm hand in the small of her back. ‘There are some people that I want you to meet.’
Pepper let herself be led across the room to where a rather stern-looking man with the heavy brows of an owl was helping himself to a glass of red wine. Beside him, a slight woman with deep-set celestial-blue eyes and piles of ash-blonde hair was contemplating a mini bruschetta.
‘Mein Junge,’ she cried, pulling Finn against her. ‘Das ist wunderbar!’
‘Danke, Mama,’ Finn said, ushering Pepper in closer.
‘This is Philippa,’ he explained.
‘Aha!’ The woman found a napkin for her bruschetta and put it down on the table, before clasping both Pepper’s hands in her own.
‘Der Künstler – sehr gut.’
Pepper fumbled out a hello and a thank you, glancing from the woman – who must surely be Finn’s mother – to the flinty man at her side, who she deduced could only be his father.
‘Malcolm,’ he barked, extending a ramrod straight arm. ‘Pleasure.’
As they exchanged small talk, Pepper marvelled at how different Finn was from his dad. He may well have inherited Malcolm’s height, broad shoulders and direct stare, but his features and softness all came from his mother, who she had just learnt was called Hanna.
As Finn stepped away to greet some more new arrivals, she leant towards Pepper.
‘You must be excited, ja?’
‘Yes. Very excited for Finn – he’s worked so hard, and I know how much this website means to him.’
Hanna looked slightly puzzled by this but made no further comment except to smile at her with warmth. Pepper noticed her exchanging a look with her husband.
‘I should’ – she began, motioning towards the bar area – ‘go and get a top-up. It was nice to meet you both – enjoy your evening.’
‘Pleasure.’ Malcolm nodded. He was so stiff – like an uptight colonel from an old war film. No wonder Finn found it difficult to connect with him properly – he was intimidating.
She met Finn again on the way back from the bar, and, emboldened by a second glass of champagne, put a hand on his arm. He looked down at her, but only for a second, distracted as he was by the chattering groups of people on every side.
‘I am sorry,’ he said, grimacing with frustration. ‘Now that you are here, I just want to steal you away, back to my home, but I have to be the host for a while. We will have time together later – is that OK?’
Pepper made herself let go of him, her hand dropping to her side only for Finn to gather it up again and press her fingers against his lips.
‘I love you,’ he said, and then he was gone again.
She spent the next few hours orbiting the party, watching Finn from a distance while his friends, colleagues and family flocked around him. Otto made several heroic attempts to pull her into conversation, but each time she made polite excuses and slipped away back into the corners.
As midnight grew steadily closer, the level of anticipation in the room swelled. Pepper stared around at all the faces she did not recognise, wondering which of them was the mystery artist. Whoever it was had made a tidy sum this evening, as every single piece from their collection had apparently been sold to a private buyer, someone who – according to Otto – had been given an early preview ahead of the website’s official launch.
‘Five thousand euros,’ he had whispered in Pepper’s ear. ‘Five fucking thousand.’
Now it was only ten minutes to go until the big reveal, and Pepper made sure that she was positioned close to where the artwork – whatever it was – had been hung on the back wall of the restaurant, a black sheet concealing it from view.
Finn had disappeared a while ago – presumably to go over his speech – but as she squinted through the assembled crowd of heads, seeking out his thick sweep of golden hair, she caught the eye of an approaching Clara instead and stiffened.
‘Hallo, Pepper,’ she said, the timid beginnings of a smile on her face as she made her way over. ‘I hope you are having a good time?’
‘Sort of.’ Pepper decided to be honest. ‘I met Finn’s parents.’
At this, Clara glanced across the room towards where Malcolm and Hanna were still standing, their backs against one of the long tables.
‘It is a big deal for them to be here,’ she explained. ‘They are nice people, but . . .’ She shrugged, and Pepper nodded to show she understood.
‘Finn told me about his father when we first met – how difficult he is to impress.’
‘Ja.’ Clara tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. ‘When he told him about the baby, all he said was “oh”.’
‘Just “oh”?’
Clara rolled her eyes.
‘His mother is different – she cannot say enough nice things. I think that she is very happy, you know. But his father . . . He needs more time. He is very conservative, and of course, Finn and I, we are not married.’
‘Well, baby news is always quite a lot to take in, whatever the circumstances,’ Pepper said, sounding more defensive than she really felt. ‘What I mean is, it must have come as quite a shock to you, let alone Finn’s parents. It wasn’t as if the two of you were even seeing each other when it happened . . . Were you?’ she added, when Clara did not immediately agree.