"It's gorgeous, right?" she says. "The Dutch painter was known for his mastery in blending light and darkness."
"Are you an artist?" I ask, turning to look at the girl.
Her eyes widen. "I don't know if I can call myself that, but I enjoy painting."
"Don't ever sell yourself short," I tell her. "If you don't believe in yourself, nobody else will either."
She blinks at me, like this was the last thing she expected me to say. And then she nods.
"If you could take anything home from this auction, what would it be?" I ask.
"That's easy," she says. "I'll take the Hope Diamond."
"They have the Hope Diamond here?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.
"No, I was kidding." The girl smiles. "Even if they had it, I wouldn't want it. It's totally cursed. I do have my eye on the Patiala necklace, though. It's been missing longer than the Rembrandt."
Lost heritage. Stolen paintings. Cursed jewels. This is no ordinary art auction.
I wish it stopped here, but there's more to it.
A few minutes later, a woman in a crystal-studded Versace gown circulates the room. She's discreetly distributing something to a few of the patrons present here.
As she passes by me, she presses a circular golden medallion into my palm. This is my ticket to the second auction.
Chiara's entire demeanor shifts. She purses her lips as she stares at my hand.
"You're a disgusting pig just like the rest of them. I'm going to put a curse on you, too," she informs me.
She throws my suit jacket back at me and storms off without another word. I know I shouldn't mind her words, but they still linger in my head.
They haunt me as I'm taken through the streets of Monaco in a private limo. The second auction will take place in an undisclosed location.
I didn't expect the drive to be so long.
Monaco is the second smallest country in the world. If it's taking us this long to go somewhere, it can only mean that we're heading to one of Monaco's neighboring countries—France or Italy.
I lean back against the headrest and try to relax.
It's easier said than done.
I'm always on edge every time I attend one of these auctions.
I turn over the cold medallion in my hand. It depicts two fire-breathing dragons facing each other. It stands for power and greed, the two things that rule the people in my world.
When the limo rolls to a stop, it's not in front of another glittering hotel.
We're parked in front of ancient ruins. It's all golden sand and blue skies.
I step out of the car and walk toward the entrance. The auction is taking place at an abandoned amphitheater that looks to be hundreds of years old. A line of identical black limos drops off more people at the entrance. I scan their faces, trying to see if I recognize any of them underneath their masks.
These people are the crème de la crème of the underworld.
We're presented with drinks and refreshments as we walk to our seats. The stage is empty right now, but I know that the girls will be brought out in a few minutes. There's a brochure on the seats that contains more information about the girls who will be presented today.
A hollowness spreads through me. It's not a foreign emotion, but a companion I've grown accustomed to.
Once all the patrons are seated, the hostess walks up to the stage. She's dressed in a flowing white dress and an enormous feathered hat.
