"Artem." He doesn't offer a last name, and I don't ask. It doesn't matter. As long as he can pay, we can work together.
And yet...something about the way he's looking at me makes my skin prickle. Not threatening, exactly, and not sexual. It's something that I can't put my finger on, but I know it makes me uncomfortable.
"Let me bring our copies," I say. "I can walk you through them."
He nods, and I walk towards the back. With gloved hands, I pull out three copies ofThe Great Gatsby, all in pristine condition.
I walk back to my table. The man, Artem, is looking at the Hemingway I was working on.
"This is excellent work," he says, not looking up. "The water damage was extensive. You're stabilizing the pages without compromising the integrity of the original binding."
I blink. Most customers can barely tell a first edition from a reprint.
"Thank you. It's been challenging."
"I imagine." He finally looks at me. "You have a steady hand. And patience. Both rare qualities."
"In book restoration or in general?"
A slight smile. "Both."
There's a pause. He's still looking at me, and I can't shake the feeling he's not here for a book at all.
"This first book is our finest copy," I say, gesturing to the top volume. "The dust jacket is immaculate—no tears, no fading. The pages had minor foxing that I was able to stabilize. It's a fifteen-thousand-dollar volume."
"I'll take it," he says, interrupting me.
I stare at him. "You haven't even examined it."
"I trust your assessment." He pulls out a black card.
"You should still take a look at it, and the other editions..."
"No need," he says, sliding the card towards me. His blue eyes are intense. "I am a man who knows what I want, and I want the best."
I swallow. "Of course," I say. I lean down to take his card. "I'll need to take some information from you." I grab my notepad. "It's standard procedure for a purchase this large, and we won't be able to release the book to you until payment clears completely."
"Of course," he says. "What do you need from me?"
I hand him the document and a pen. "Just fill this out."
He takes the pen from me and begins writing. "You work with rare books. You must have connections in the antiquity’s world. Auction houses. Private collectors."
"Some. I'm building my network. Why?"
"I'm always looking for quality pieces. Perhaps your brother could make an introduction. Gabriel Romano, correct? I understand he's very well connected in certain circles."
I carefully set the book down on the padded surface. My hands suddenly aren't steady enough to hold fifteen thousand dollars worth of paper and leather.
"How do you know my brother?" There's a quiver in my voice.
His expression doesn't change. "New York is a small world. Especially in certain industries."
"What industries?" My heart is pounding now.
"The buying and selling of valuable things."
It's not gambling debt, Sera. It's bigger than that.
