Codename Charming by Lucy Parker EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Lucy Parker
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Comedy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Amidst a suffocating cloud of wisteria perfume, the director of the new Fine
Arts Museum leaned forward, her lips parting in a tight smile, revealing a
large piece of spinach stuck to her protruding front teeth. As Pet tried very
hard not to watch, it fell off and landed on the tip of her shoe.
“We’re so delighted to have Mr. Marchmont with us this evening,” the
director murmured, and Pet upped the wattage of her own, equally forced
smile in return.
The poor woman didn’t look delighted. She looked like a person who’d
spent weeks brandishing a shiny, exclusive-looking parcel, bragging about its
contents to everyone in earshot, only to belatedly discover that it contained a
ticking bomb.
It was an expression Pet had seen often throughout the past months, since
she’d started working for Johnny.
“I’d just like to extend our apologies again about the DeWitt sculpture,”
Pet said, trying and failing not to pause slightly before she finished that
sentence.
She considered the arts one of the saving graces of humanity. A vital form
of expression and communication. Frequently the last speck of hope and
beauty in a world overrun with tax-dodging billionaires, politicians,
murderers, and friend requests on Facebook from apparently amnesiac school
bullies. She was an artist of sorts herself, although the paper silhouette
portraits she snipped when she was stressed or bored were child’s play
compared to most of the exhibits in the museum.
Most of the exhibits.
But, frankly, “sculpture” was a very generous word for Brooklyn DeWitt’s
Orgasm—a warped, writhing mess of metal pipes, clay, and tin cans, which
had looked a literal load of rubbish even before Johnny had lost his balance
and sat on it.
She glanced anxiously over at him again. Having finished destroying the
ugliest artwork in the foyer, he was talking to a rep from the museum’s
executive committee. His fuzzy blond curls were all but crackling with
nervous energy, and one hand was moving rhythmically in his pocket.
Either he was fiddling with his speech notes, or he’d taken the relaxation
breathing techniques they’d practiced to a whole other level of public stress
relief.
“These incidents happen,” the director said with another rigid curve of her
mouth, and Pet couldn’t help an ironic glance around at walls laden with
millions of pounds worth of Old Masters and contemporary classics.
She certainly hoped they didn’t happen often, and she suspected that if the
culprit arse in question didn’t usually dwell in a palace, it would find itself
hauled into court and landed with a massive damages bill.
“Anyway,” the other woman added in a slightly more natural tone,
“fortunately Brooklyn places a lot of faith in serendipity. He believes the
work has now advanced to its next natural stage of existence. He just said . . .
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