That’s nice, but not any indication of which way he’s leaning.
Cindy starts talking about a vacation she and Jack went on last year, and the rest of them start debating the pros and cons of the various vacation spots.
“What’s your favorite places to visit? You two are the experts,” Harrison asks, knowing how much travel goes into our jobs.
“Oh, for me it’s England. The English collected on a massive scale publicly and privately, and the major worldwide auction houses started there, so there’s a lot to see. It’s also comforting to know we now have rules and regulations in place now to prevent the sort of large-scale theft they used to create those huge collections.”
“You sound conflicted,” Naomi says.
Smart girl. “I am. They’re stunning collections, housed in lavish country estates or museums that take up multiple city blocks. And especially in the country houses, seeing an Indian sculpture in front of an English landscape painting next to a Chinese jade Buddha next to a narwhal tusk, with a Louis XIV chair in front of it, is a trip.” I take a breath. “But I can’t ignore that most of those pieces were outright stolen, or were bought with money made by treating people terribly under colonialism. It’s why my nana, my maternal grandfather, started Loot, to be in control of the sale of Indian art. And why he called it Loot, a sassy reference to the history of the art market.”
Hopefully we’ve done a better job only selling pieces we can legally sell, and compensating everyone well.
“What about you, Gavin?” Cindy asks from his other side. She leans in and I resent her immediately, and maybe irrationally.
This newfound jealously is not a good feeling and I want to return to the time before it, please and thank you. I don’t need all of the emotions that Gavin inspires distracting me from work.
“I love Roman art, so for me it has to be anywhere in Italy, especially Rome, or along the stretch of the Mediterranean that was part of the Roman Empire.”
Travel talk takes us through the rest of dinner and dessert. It’s not a hardship; I do genuinely love traveling, even though I end up working. I love seeing the places that my pieces come from, giving me context I wouldn’t otherwise have.
As the talk winds down after dessert, Gavin tells us when we’re meeting for his event the next day.
When we get up to go back to our doors, Gavin touches me on my elbow. “Which room do you want to be in tonight? I’ve got to talk to Harrison about logistics for tomorrow and then I’ll come meet you.”
“Justtalking about the event tomorrow?” I ask reflexively, not able to restrain myself from accusing him, despite how far we’ve come.
Gavin gives me an exasperated look but humors me. “Yes, just the event. I don’t need to cheat, Riya.”
I shrug. “My room then.” I don’t want to sneak out again the next morning.
“I’ll get there as fast as I can.” Gavin gives me a quick peck on the lips before running back down the stairs.
He’s going back to our host. Did he walk upstairs just to drop me off at my room?
I could get used to the sweet side of Gavin.
Standing outside my room, I’m so wrapped up in imagining all the wonderful things I’m going to do to him, and that he’s going to do to me, that I don’t realize there’s anyone near me.
So I jump out of my own skin when I hear a voice behind me.
“That’s quite the chemistry you two have there.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Pari, you scared me.” A slight understatement. Everything in this house seems more dramatic because of its grand scale and all the shadows it creates, and people jumping out from behind furniture seems a lot scarier than it normally would.
Then again, I doubt someone as classy as Pari would jump out from behind a large vase, so she was probably just standing there the whole time and I didn’t see her. I was so distracted there could have been a herd of stampeding hippos coming down this hallway and I wouldn’t have noticed.
Until they trampled me, probably.
“The words scared you?” She regally arches just one eyebrow in question and tilts her head, her high, neat bun of black and gray hair giving her quite the imposing silhouette while she regards me.
The words too, I guess. “We’re not dating or anything. Just business peers. More business rivals, really.”
“Are you attracted to all of your business peers?”
“Ew, no,” I reflexively respond.
