You’d think it was the Holy Grail, the way Antoine grips the briefcase as we leave the main hall with the other guests. My head is still spinning from the absurdity of what just happened. My husband of two weeks just forked outa million dollarson an old trinket that my grandmother had bought at a flea market in Chengdu. A trinket that sat on a shelf in her house for decades. I don’t know whether I want to shake him or laugh hysterically. Maybe both.
Outside, the Shanghai night air wraps around us, humid and pleasantly cool. I notice a black limo waiting near the curb. A man in a crisp black suit steps out and opens the door. I recognize him. It’s the Middle Eastern guy from the walking muscle squad we saw before the auction.
“Who is this guy?” I whisper to Antoine. “What’s he doing here?”
“We should get in,” Antoine says, seemingly unconcerned.
Should we?
I halt, my heart pounding. As my eyes adjust, I notice that the other three guys from the group are seated inside the limo. One is at the wheel, another in the front passenger seat, and a third in the back, facing the seat where Antoine is already sliding in.
He waves me over. “Laura, come on!”
Oh well.
I climb in, propelled by an irrational trust that overrides the instinct screaming at me to run. The door closes, sealing me inside with too many questions—and too many taciturn “SWAT types.”
The limo glides forward, eerily quiet. I survey the two men facing us.If I asked them to stop the car and let me out, would they do it?
On the reassuring side, Antoine doesn’t look worried. Though he isn’t exactly popping open a bottle of champagne, he seems relaxed, as if the musclemen were on his team. This isn’t a kidnapping.
Right?
To calm my nerves, I try to ground myself by focusing on the details of the limo. The polished wood of the built-in console. The faint hum of the engine. The cream leather of the plush seats. The faint scent of cedar in the air. The tiny pinpricks of light in the ceiling, mimicking stars…
Cute.But not enough to take my mind off what’s going on.
“You owe me an explanation,” I whisper to Antoine.
He nods. “At the hotel.”
I search his face.
He takes my hand in his and points his chin to one of the hulks across from us. “This is Elias, and that’s Nate, and in front we have…”
He shoots Elias—the Middle Eastern guy—a quizzical look.
“Jeff and Sam,” Elias says.
All four smile and wave, their postures relaxing.
Elias inclines his head. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Laura.”
Finally?
“Ma’am.” Nate’s head drops to his chest. “It’s a great honor to meet you.”
Huh? Why?
“Hi, everyone,” I mumble.
Antoine strokes my hand. “See? They’re the good guys. The crème de la crème of good guys, in fact. They’re here to protect us in case… something happens.”
I nod a breathless OK.
He turns to Elias and squints. “A limo? Really?”
“Armored and bulletproof,” Elias answers with an unexpectedly boyish smile.
