“This isn’t the Book of Kells,” the slender man in the tailored, charcoal suit said, referencing the magnificently-illustrated, priceless, one-of-a-kind 9^th century New Testament housed in the Trinity College Library in Dublin, Ireland. “But it’s in the same stratosphere. Just seeing this in person has nearly made my heart stop. It’s almost too perfect. You understand my concerns regarding its authenticity, don’t you?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Pierce,” the redhead reassured him. “Do your due diligence. You’ll find it’s quite real; everything I’ve represented it to be.”

Damian Pierce leaned in close, examining the Gutenberg Bible on the dais before him closely, from different angles. “I’m unclear as to the book’s provenance, Mrs.-”

“It’s Ms., actually,” Quinn Brentford interrupted, correcting him.

“Ah, yes, Ms. Brentford,” Mr. Pierce cleared his throat and stole a glance at Quinn Brentford’s deep cleavage as he used a handkerchief to clean his magnifying glass. “I was asking about this particular book’s provenance. It’s not in the record, and it would help the authentication process along if I knew how you came to acquire it.”

“It belonged to my father,” Quinn Brentford replied, lifting her glass to indicate to the butler her need for a refill of the 1945 Chateau Mouton-Rothschild she was nearly finished sipping. “And his father before him. It’s been in my family for generations.”

Mr. Pierce ran his white-gloved finger down the edge of the vellum binding. “It’s exquisite. I just can’t understand how this copy isn’t catalogued. You must realize, Ms. Brentford, this is a very important book. A piece of art, really. It’s a world treasure.”

“I know all about it, Mr. Pierce,” she replied. “I was raised with it. Among all of this.” She swept her arm across the room, letting her gaze follow her hand, admiring the paintings, sculptures, and books that filled the mansion’s showpiece library. “My family values its privacy. I don’t want anything in this collection, especially the Gutenberg, added to any sort of database, internet or otherwise. Unless and until it’s sold, it’s mine. I can do with it as I please. I could set fire to it, if I so chose.”

Damian Pierce went white with shock. “Ms. Brentford!”

“Thank you, Anderson,” Quinn said, as her butler presented her with the refilled glass poured from the five figure bottle of wine. She swirled the red and inhaled its aroma before taking a long, appreciative sip.

“Oh, that’s divine,” she sighed, leaning back on the chaise with her eyes closed. Damian Pierce took advantage of the opportunity to appraise Quinn Brentford rather than the Gutenberg Bible.

If anything in the room was divine, it was her.

Full, lush curls of red spilled down her back, and the form-fitting white dress she wore accentuated her considerable assets perfectly. Her skin was flawless alabaster, but for a light sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose. He’d been surprised to find that her eyes were brown, rather than the green he expected. He’d never been in such proximity to beauty so rare and elegant. For a man just past seventy, she made him feel stirrings in his trousers that he hadn’t experienced spontaneously in quite some time.

“Don’t worry, I have no plans to torch the book,” she explained, rising to walk over to where he stood in front of the podium that held the Bible he was charged with examining. “I just wanted to emphasize how seriously I take the privacy of my family and our collection.”

Distracted by having Quinn Brentford at his side, Pierce’s heart hammered in his chest. Her scent intoxicated him.

“O-of course, Ms. Brentford. Complete dis-discretion.”

“Fabulous,” she replied, the tip of her index finger touching the thin strip of exposed skin between his sleeve and glove. She spun and her red-bottomed heels click-clacked away. “Take your time, Mr. Dixon will assist you with anything you need.”

The butler, Anderson Dixon, stood sentry near the door to observe Damian Pierce as he worked. As Quinn Brentford left the room, a hulking security man silently followed her.

* * *

Quinn dialed her phone as she strode down the hallway toward the kitchen.

“I have Damian Pierce here right now going over the Gutenberg,” Quinn said as she walked. “He’ll look at the First Folio and a few of the others while he’s here, too. Saito was here two days ago. Pierce will confirm Saito’s authentication. I’ve leaked word through some backchannels about the auction. If it hasn’t gotten back to the Titans by now, once Pierce signs off on the top drawer stuff, Odin Titan will be salivating. He’ll be in Vienna. I guarantee it.”