After a long morning meeting, John had decided to escape his commitments for an hour or two and examine the new Degas exhibition. He'd been to Paris, a long time ago. He remembered the atmosphere there. He'd read the French papers and kept up with the avant garde, quick to spot an emerging talent and snap up a piece or a commission for his collection.
The pieces were lovely, the light and skill shown just as marvelous as he remembered. There weren't many people walking around in the middle of the day during the week, so it was peaceful and relaxing.
The slow clip of heels on the wooden floor caught his attention, and he glanced over at the slim young woman leaning close to a drawing. He tilted his head slightly, recognising those legs. The security guard was eyeballing her, so John wandered over to stop next to her, gently touching her elbow.
"Careful, my dear, or you'll fall in," he murmured, keeping his voice low so it wouldn't carry across the open space.