Scarlett

I tugged on Gabe’s hand as we walked up the stairs of the mansion. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”

“What is this exactly again?”

I blew my bangs out of my face and stopped on the top stair. “This is a private viewing of the auction they’re holding at the end of the week.”

“The one that your rival is hosting.”

I pointed at his chest. “Exactly.” I straightened my dress. “I want to see what all of the fuss is about.”

“You look great,” he said as he slipped his arm around my waist.

“You think?”

He started to respond, but then the front door opened, and the butler gave us a quizzical look. “May I help you?”

I fished around in my purse until I found the card. “We’re here for the viewing.”

The butler wrinkled his nose and peered at the card that had been delivered to the front desk that morning. I wondered how many cards Bridget had to give out, and how she had managed to find everyone. All the way over to Rocco Morales’s mansion I wondered what she was up to. Knowing Bridget, it was probably something extravagant and highly profitable.

The butler, a stout, older man with receding hair and wire-rimmed glasses, shoved the card back into my hands. “This way.”

He turned away from the door, leaving us on the front step.

“I guess we better follow him,” Gabe said.

I nodded and stepped inside the mansion. The atmosphere was quite different from the party a few nights ago. Gone was the festive, laid-back atmosphere and light beach breeze. Everything appeared more formal in the light of day, and there was a tension in the air that made my stomach turn.

The butler took us into a side room, which turned out to be a study. He closed the door and motioned to the two chairs by the desk.

“Please,” he said. “Have a seat.”

I glanced at Gabe, who offered me a nod of encouragement. Together, we took the two seats as the butler walked around and pulled out two file folders from a bottom desk drawer. After adjusting his glasses, he placed the folders on the empty desk in front of us.

“Here you go.”

I frowned at the folders, then glanced up at him. “Excuse me?”

“These are the confidentiality agreements you need to sign before you are allowed downstairs.”

“Confidentiality agreements?” Gabe asked as he picked up one of the folders and began to leaf through the pages.

The butler nodded. “It’s standard procedure, of course.”

“Of course.” I picked up a folder and almost gagged when I saw how many pages there were. After a few moments of skimming the legalese, I glanced up at the butler.

“Care to just give us the highlights?”

He nodded. “The contracts just say that you will not photograph, videotape, Instagram, tweet, or post any other information about the event on social media or the Internet in general.”

“Done,” I said.

The butler held up his hand. “You will not talk about this event with anyone. You will not mention it in public conversation, you will not write about it in your journal. What happens at this private showing, stays here.”

“Everything that happens at this showing?” I asked.

“Yes, as well as any conversation that may take place.” He turned to Gabe. “There are a lot of insiders here, and insider knowledge is traded. We can’t have our secrets leaking out to the general public.”

“No, of course not,” I said.

“You don’t happen to run a fight club as well, do you?” Gabe asked.

The butler adjusted his glasses. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” Gabe held out his hand. “Just give me a pen.”

The butler opened the top drawer of the desk and handed him a long, thin executive pen.

“I hope I don’t regret this,” he said as he signed the contract. When he finished, he handed the pen to me.

“You won’t. I have a good feeling about this.” I signed my forms and handed the folder back to the butler. “I think we’re ready.”

The butler took the folders and studied the signatures. “Yes, I believe you are.” He snapped the folders shut and tucked them under his arm. “Follow me.”

We both stood and followed the butler down the second hall, then a third. It felt as if we were going in circles. When we reached the end of the fourth hall, he opened a door that led down into darkness.

“The showing is down there?” I asked.

The butler looked down his nose at me, which was quite a feat, considering his short stature. “Of course.” He started to descend.

Gabe looked at me, then shrugged and waved his hand toward the stair. “We’ve come all this way,” he said. “We might as well see what it’s all about.”

True. Taking a deep breath to steel my nerves, I took a hesitant step onto the carpeted stair, then lifted my chin and climbed down into the darkness.

When we reached the bottom, the butler took a candle off a nearby table and lit it.

“Why so dark?” Gabe asked.

The butler looked down his nose at him as if he were an idiot. “Ambience.”

Before either of us could respond, the butler turned and started down the hallway. I shrugged at Gabe and followed. This outing was getting weirder by the minute.

While the upstairs had a fresh and airy decor, the downstairs seemed to be taken from some medieval castle. It was almost as if I was stepping back in time, leaving the modern world for something a little older and antiquated. The floors and the walls were stone, the lighting dim. There was no furniture to speak of, and the walls were decorated with tapestry too faded to make out much detail. All in all, the hallway seemed rather odd and out of place considering what I knew of the owner and his tastes.

“Where’s that breeze coming from?” Gabe asked as we walked.

“The air-conditioning has been turned up to help preserve the artwork,” the butler said over his shoulder.

It made sense, but I wished someone had told me. I rubbed my arms and wished I had worn something other than my light sundress.

“Ah, there you are,” Bridget said as we turned the corner and walked into an adjacent room. Several lit sconces hung from the walls, and I shielded my eyes as they adjusted to the difference in lighting.

“Bridget, how nice to see you.” I blinked several times and then lowered my arm. Bridget was dressed in a fancy, high-collared dress with a lot of ruffles. It looked as if she had stepped out of an old-fashioned royal court, and I had to admit the look suited her.

“Likewise.” She gave me a air-kiss on each cheek and stepped back to ogle Gabe.

“Back for more, are you?”

Gabe smiled and bowed his head slightly. “As always, you fascinate me, Bridget. I couldn’t stay away.”

Bridget smiled in triumph as she turned to me. “You must let me use him when you’re finished, my dear.” She dragged her gaze to his hips. “He’s simply irresistible.”

I inched closer to Gabe, placing myself between him and her line of vision. “He’s not something to be bought and sold.”

“Oh, everyone has a price, my dear.” She lifted her head and winked at Gabe. “It’s only a matter of finding out what it is.”

Before I could retort, she turned and waved her fingers in the air. “This way.”

She glided across the large, open room, which was decorated in the same, simple decor as the hall. Everything here looked as if it had been shipped from England, from the heavily cushioned furniture, to the ornate rugs, to the white, stone walls. People milled about, all dressed in period clothes similar to Bridget’s, each one of them looking at different paintings and tapestries that adorned the walls and drinking out of large goblets.

Gabe leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Looks as if we didn’t get the memo.”

I pressed my lips together and nodded. Bridget had neglected to tell us that we were supposed to arrive in costume, and now we both stood out like amateurs. This was probably her intent, and with each step, my frustration and anger grew.

“It seems a lot . . . different from the party the other night,” Gabe said as he grabbed a piece of dried fruit from a nearby table as we passed.

Bridget stopped underneath a large painting of a sailboat and turned to face us. “It’s all part of the ambience,” she said. “Upstairs, we were buying and selling contemporary art. This is quite different.” She raised her brow at me. “I trust you are well versed in seventeenth-century paintings?”

She knew I wasn’t. My area of expertise was contemporary art. Besides a few classes in college, I knew next to nothing about art created centuries before my time. Her comment made me feel foolish and reminded me of so many jibes she had made while she was my mentor. Whenever it looked as if I was outearning her, she’d cut me down to make herself feel better. It normally worked. Her words had done a number on my self-esteem over the years. Now, after some time and distance, I found that they had less of a bite.

I suddenly realized why she had invited us to this little shindig. It was to gloat. Bridget loved getting the upper hand, and she couldn’t resist rubbing my face in it.

Before I could respond, she waved at someone behind my shoulder. “Pardon me, there is something that requires my attention.” She waved her hand around us. “But please, have a look around. Enjoy yourself. There are cards next to each object explaining the artwork’s history, and the opening bid.” She motioned to the small end table next to her. “There are sheets here for you to take notes so you will know which pieces to bid on later this week.”

“Oh, we’re not going to bid.” I realized the mistake as soon as the words left my mouth. Why did I have to be so honest?

She raised her brows. “You’re not?”

“I, uh . . .”

“I’m the one who will be bidding,” Gabe said.

“Ah.” Bridget’s face brightened. “We simply must have lunch sometime. I have so much more than is on display.”

Gabe gave a slight nod of his head. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Ms. Simpson.” A tall, gangly man wearing a ruffled outfit with tights tapped her on the shoulder. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” She turned to us. “The exhibit will be open for fifteen minutes. Excuse me.”

“Of course,” I muttered in my best Bridget imitation as Gabe popped the fruit into his mouth. He chewed slowly, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the snack. When I raised my brows, he shook his head and motioned for me to stay away from the table.

Smiling, I picked up one of the sheets.

“What do you have there?”

I frowned as I studied the paper in front of me. “Good question.”

“What do you mean? Don’t you know?”

I dragged my gaze up from the form and looked at him. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this in my life.”