The auction begins, with Adrian taking the lead as the auctioneer fires off in that staccato tenor. Adrian wins two pieces, doesn’t bid for two, and then a fifth is rolled out. It’s a painting of a volcano that uses real material from the volcano and has a deep backstory about the artist’s journey to get it.
Rafael raises his paddle on the fifth item, for three hundred thousand. That’s low compared to the other bids so far. But no one else raises their paddles. An eerie atmosphere falls over the crowd, and soon, the auctioneer announces. “Mr. Bellini, lovely choice.”
What the hell?
It’s like people are afraid of bidding against him. I look at Adrian, and he just shakes his head. He’s someone I should avoid, Adrian said. What would his reaction be if he found out that Rafael is Theo’s father?
The bidding goes on, and it happens again. Rafael bids for his piece; no one challenges him. I can’t lie. It’s starting to needle me. He thinks he can just waltz in here and dominate the room and send confusing signals shooting through my too-tired body and then, on top of all that, bid without any competition. It’s ridiculous.
The auctioneer goes on, “And now we have something experimental, something truly avant-garde, a piece as interesting as the name of the artist herself. Athena Gravestone’sPerilis constructed from the real fabrics of war prisoners’ uniforms, built to make something, I’m sure you’ll all agree, that is truly one of a kind.”
The assistants wheel the piece onto the stage. I gasp at the beauty of it, the skill. She has woven different colored fabrics onto a canvas to create a crying, surrealist face.
“Shall we start the bidding at fifty thousand?” the auctioneer says.
I raise my paddle.
“We have fifty, do we have sixty…”
Somebody else raises their paddle.
I keep going until we hit two hundred thousand, glancing at Adrian. He nods, then leans in and lowers his voice. “Try to keep it below five hundred.”
I swallow nervously. Five hundred thousand… it’s an amount of money I can hardly comprehend, but now I’m holding it in the palm of my hand. It’s like the paddle is suddenly a wizard’s wand.
At four hundred thousand, Rafael raises his paddle. That familiar hush moves over the crowd, as if everyone has already accepted this piece now belongs to Rafael. Adrian reaches over and gently touches my arm, as if to say,It’s not worth it.
But why? Why should he get to do whatever he wants whenever he wants?
The auctioneer looks around as if it’s already over as well. “Do we have four hundred and ten? No?” Thatnocame way faster than the bids Rafael wasn’t a part of.
I raise my paddle. A collective gasp rings out. Everyone is clearly in on the joke except for me.
“Four hundred and… twenty?” the auctioneer says nervously.
Rafael turns and looks directly at me, his jaw clenched, his amber-gold eyes on fire. It’s as if Theo is all grown up and staring at me, the eyes are so similar. He raises his paddle. The auctioneer claps his hands like that’s the end of it.
But then I raise mine. And yeah, I enjoy the look on Rafael’s face, the uncertainty like he can’t believe that someone is standing against him. Everyone is looking at me. Nerves threaten to stop me, my cheeks flushing, heart pounding hard.
I refuse to back down.
I stare back at him, apparently the only person in this place brave enough to do that.
The bidding gets to four hundred and ninety. I make the bid for five hundred, then hold Rafael’s gaze. He stares back at me, his jaw ticking, his eyes seeming to soften. Or perhaps that’s just memories of the night we shared together clinging to me.
He makes to raise his paddle, then slowly lowers it. He inclines his head as if to saygoodjob then turns back to the stage.
As the auctioneer announces our victory, I feel Adrian grinning at me.
I meet Cassie in the back office. She brings her fingers to her lips, pointing to the corner where Theo sleeps in his bassinet. She walks over and gives me a quick hug. “Everyone is buzzing about you standing up against the big bad wolf. Well done, girl.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, hugging her back. “I don’t get what the big deal is. I mean… who is he?”
Except the father of my child. But I don’t add that part.
“On paper, he’s a businessman. He owns a lot of real estate, as well as art, of course. But word around town is that he’s affiliated with the Italian mob. He runs his home city, apparently. And people don’t want to get on the wrong side of the mob.”
I swallow, chest clenching tight.
