His eyes bulged. “Buyit?”
“You have to place a bid on it.”
He leaned in closer to me, moving slowly, a panther stalking its prey. I caught his scent—a woodsy, clean, fresh river-leather-and-sandalwood. It was an overwhelmingly masculine scent, I almost swooned.
“Woman.” His voice grew so low, so dangerous, goosebumps rose on my arms. “If you do not procure that spark stone right now?—”
“Calm down, Donovan.” I patted his arm, aiming to be patronizing, but I failed miserably. His forearm was strapped with thick, hard muscle; the feel of him under my palm sent an unwelcome tingle down into the core of my belly. My body refused to relax. I had to force my tone to remain casual. “I’ll just see what the bids are… oh.”
This pretty blue sapphire was well out of my price range.
“What is the issue now?”
I wasn’t about to tell the sexy imaginary fae prince that I didn’t have enough money to cover my bus fare to work tomorrow, let alone place a bid on a rock that had already gone over thousands of dollars. “The auction isn’t due to end for another few weeks,” I said breezily. “I’m sure we can find a work around… Oh!”
“Whatnow?” he snarled.
Either this was a crazy coincidence, or I’d designed this whole thing in advance and just forgotten about it. Either way, it was fun to find a solution to every problem that came up. “I actually know the seller,” I said happily. “I’d recognize that username anywhere. He uses the same one on all his socials.” I pointed at my screen at the seller details. “ProfRizzardofOwen. He’s an art collector, an old patron of my?—”
Vincent.
It felt like a stab to the heart. I clamped my lips shut and slowly took a deep breath through my nose. In, out. In, out.
To give Donovan some credit, he waited patiently for me to get myself under control. As soon as my heart rate slowed down, I swallowed the lump in my throat and spoke as evenly as I could. “His name is Professor Dean Owen. He’s a professor emeritus at Stanford, and he just happens to be a passionate art collector. He’s a really kooky old rich guy, who lives in a big old Victorian manor house in Haight-Ashbury. I’ve been to a few of his dinner parties.”
“Dean Owen?” Cress turned and met Donovan’s eye. “Ahdeannowyn?”
He crossed those massive arms over his chest. “It couldn’t be.”
“Of course it could. This is my delusion; I’m not about to pluck a whole-ass personality out of nowhere,” I said absently. A yawn escaped me; it felt good, so I inhaled deeply and yawned again. Donovan’s eyes dropped to my chest, and he scowled.
I almost laughed. “I’ve even got his phone number. He’s a night owl, from what I recall, so he’ll be awake.” I thumbed through my contacts and hit the dial icon.
The line buzzed. Cress turned and arched an eyebrow at Donovan. It was definitely anI told you solook.
A click sounded in my ear. “Ahoy-hoy!”
“Professor Owen?” I put my “charming deferential woman speaking to a crusty old man” voice on. “It’s Susan Moore speaking. How are you this evening?”
His old, scratchy voice vibrated down the phone line. “Susan Moore?”
“Uh.” My heart fluttered for a second. I turned my back on the four hallucinations, who were staring at me with their mouths open. “Susan… Andresano. Do you remember me?”
“Ha! Susan Andresano! Of course I remember you, my dear. You’re cracking good company. How are you?”
“Thatishim,” Cress breathed out from behind me, her voice filled with hushed awe. “She’s done it. Donovan… she found Ahdeannowyn.”
I’d managed to astonish my delusions. Go, me.
“I am fabulous, sir, thank you for asking,” I said smoothly, smiling widely. People could always hear it in your voice when you smiled over the phone. They could also hear it in your voice if you were flipping them off while you were talking to them. I’d been trying to drum that into my team for weeks, but they kept doing it. “I was wondering if I could beg a favor from you.”
“Of course, my dear, of course,” he creaked. “What can I do for you, young Susan?”
“I just saw a beautiful gemstone on eBay; a beautiful blue brilliant-cut sapphire. I believe you are the seller?”
“Oh, yes, my dear. Why? Are you interested in purchasing it?”
I bit my lip. I couldn’t afford to eat lunch tomorrow. But I didn’t need to buy it; I just needed to satisfy my delusions enough that they would go away. “Oh, yes. Yes, I am.”
