Grand Passion

that touched the raw core inside himself, Max did not feel quite so alone.
    Max had been twenty-three when he and Curzon had met. That had been twelve years ago. Max had just gotten out of the Army and had taken the first job he had found. It was manual labor for the most part, but Max had liked it right from the start. The work consisted primarily of crating, transporting, and hanging the paintings that an art dealer named Garrison Spark sold to his clients.
    Max hadn't particularly liked Spark, whose ethics were questionable at best, but he had been transfixed by some of the art he was allowed to handle. Spark, in turn, found Max's unerring eye for art extremely useful. The two made a pact. In exchange for the job, Max promised not to voice his opinions on the authenticity of certain paintings that Spark sold unless the client asked for that opinion.
    Max had delivered two paintings, both genuine, to Jason Curzon before the event occurred that had changed his life. The moment was still crystal clear in his mind.
    He had just uncrated a large canvas, a dark, abstract picture purported to be the work of a new and rising artist whose paintings Jason had been eager to collect. Max had stood politely aside, allowing Jason to examine the picture in silence.
    Jason had gazed into the painting for a long time before he had turned to Max with an enigmatic expression.
    “What do you think?” Jason asked.
    Max hid his surprise. In his experience clients never solicited the artistic opinion of the man who delivered their purchases.
    Max looked at the painting. He had seen three other works that had been created by the same artist. He had been immediately compelled by the others. This one left him unmoved. He weighed his answer carefully. He knew Jason had paid a huge sum for the picture.
    “I think it's a fake,” Max finally said.
    Jason gave him an appraising look. “So do I.”
    “A very good fake,” Max said quickly, mindful of his treasured job. “After all, it fooled Mr. Spark.”
    Jason had merely arched his brows at that remark. He sent the painting back to Spark with no explanation other than that he had changed his mind. But the following month he had invited Max to view his private collection.
    Max had been enthralled by the visions that hung on Jason's walls. At the end of the tour Jason had turned to him.
    “You're smart and you think fast on your feet. Most important, I think you've got the inner eye,” Jason said. “You ever think of doing something a little more intellectually demanding than crating and uncrating art for Garrison Spark?”
    “Like what?” Max asked.
    “Like coming to work for me. I'll put you in charge of buying art for Curzon hotels. You'll report directly to me, and you'll answer only to me. It will mean travel, an excellent salary, bonuses, and mingling with the corporate hierarchy. Interested?”
    “Why not?” Max said. He knew a turning point in his life when he saw one, and as usual he had nothing better waiting for him in the other direction.
    Jason surveyed Max's cheap brown suit, permanent-press shirt, and frayed tie. “First we're going to have to polish you up a bit.”
    Jason was as good as his word. He taught Max everything he needed to know in order to move in the rarefied circles of the international hotel business. Max learned quickly. He copied Jason's exquisitely polished manners and wore his expensive new clothes with natural ease.
    After having fought his way through the foster care system and the Army, he was not intimidated by the high-powered corporate types with whom he came in contact. Jason wryly observed that the situation was just the opposite. Most people were intimidated by Max.
    “An extremely useful talent,” Jason said a year after Max had been on the job. “I think we should make use of it.”
    Max knew how to make himself useful when it suited him. It suited him to please Jason Curzon.
    Within six months he had become much more than the curator of Curzon International's art collection. He had become Jason's right-hand man.
    His responsibilities had evolved swiftly. Someone else was eventually appointed to manage the art collection. Max was put in charge of gathering intelligence on the competition and reporting on the suitability of potential hotel sites. From the beginning he made it his goal to learn in advance everything Jason needed in order to make far-reaching decisions regarding potential acquisitions: local politics in foreign