With his arms crossed, Noble eyed Raymond Deluca as they approached him and his entourage standing outside what appeared to be the side door of the large gray warehouse behind them. This area of Westerly Heights was mostly warehouses, so he really wasn’t surprised when they got there and it turned out that was where they would be doing business.
The suited-up mob boss’ bodyguards sized him up, and he did the same back, even if he had little worry that any of them would have had a chance in a fight against him.
“Ollie, so good to see you,” the tall Italian drawled, opening his arms as they reached him, a bright, even, white smile on his face.
Ollie moved in for a hug.
Holding his muscles tight to stop himself from tugging Ollie back, it was, admittedly, a grand test of his ability to keep his expression neutral in the face of things that both worried and pissed him off—in this case, his witch hugging a dangerous mafia boss.
Raymond was, admittedly, a rather handsome man in his mid-to-late fifties, with short styled white hair, and deep olive skin. While there were age lines around his mouth, and the corners of his eyes, it didn’t detract from his sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and prominent Greek nose. The man was also in shape, and the black suit pants, button-down shirt, and suit jacket he was wearing were clearly tailored to fit his muscular frame well.
Noble would like to say that despite being handsome, the man was far too old for Ollie, but unfortunately, he could not. Especially considering his age was a lie, and while Noble may look forty, he was in fact one hundred and eighty-five.
“Raymond, you haven’t aged a day since I last saw you,” Ollie said with a giggle as he pulled away.
“Flatterer,” Raymond barked out in laughter as he let go and stepped back, his deep brown eyes flicking to Noble. “I do hope your bodyguard isn’t here because of me.”
Ollie waved a hand in dismissal. “No, no, nothing to do with you, I promise. He may be my bodyguard, but he is also my boyfriend, and he is very protective.”
With how smooth and natural Ollie’s words had sounded, it was pretty easy to guess that the witch had not realized that Noble was, in fact, there because of Raymond.
“Ah, I suppose I can understand the urge,” the man chuckled, his gaze still on him. Based on the knowing smirk that had replaced his smile, Raymond knew exactly why he was there. Though, the smirk dropped only seconds later, as the man looked back at Ollie and asked, “How are you, by the way? Iknow there was damage to your library. I’ve also heard rumors that it was not a simple fire, as is being claimed, but more an attack and that you were injured.” Raymond’s eyes narrowed slightly as they appeared to inspect the witch. “I am hoping that last part was mostly just rumors.”
Ollie smiled sheepishly. “I was…a bit injured, but I’m good now. Noble protected me. Though—ha—I thought I had managed to keep that bit of information from spreading to the news.”
As far as Noble knew, Ollie had succeeded on that front. Those outside the librarians just thought there had been a small electrical fire, or something along those lines. But it likely wouldn’t take much effort for someone like Raymond to find out more.
“You have, but I have my ways.” Raymond shrugged unapologetically. “Besides, you can’t really fault me for wanting to keep an eye on what my favorite Little Librarian is up to, can you?”
Noble’s gaze narrowed with irritation at the‘my’comment, but he kept quiet, as this was technically work for Ollie. Despite thinking it wasn’t a good idea for the witch to be doing jobs for the mob, he didn’t want to mess up something he obviously enjoyed doing.
“Raymond, I am going to be very upset if I find out later that some of your men have taken up stalking me,” Ollie huffed, glaring slightly with his hands on his hips.
The man laughed. “They’re not, I promise. But do let me know if you need any extra protection. I don’t mind lending a hand to keep you safe.”
The witch sputtered, clearly startled by the offer, “N-no, no. I’m safe, I promise. Besides, I’d feel bad bothering you about stuff like that.”
“Well, if you change your mind, let me know.” Raymond’s gaze turned to him, and despite the meaning being clear as fuck, he almost carefully asked, “Has the threat been…neutralized?”
“Permanently,” Noble drawled with a shark-like smile.
A smile that was similar to his own slipped onto the man’s face as he said, “Good.”
Ollie carefully examinedthe porcelain bowl in his gloved hands, from the vivid details of the quails and patterned floral elements, to the texture of its surface, attempting to spot any damage or possible signs of forgery. As he stared at and touched what appeared to be a genuine 17th-century antique, he couldn’t help but be grateful he’d diversified his studies, becoming a certified appraiser of fine art, books, manuscripts, along with Asian art and antiquities—the latter coming in handy now. To be honest, the pieces were astonishingly beautiful, and just being able to briefly handle them made working for Raymond worth it, despite the possible dangers.
Flipping the bowl over in his hands, his nose wrinkled when he spotted something that he knew at least one side of the equation would not like. Ollie carefully set the bowl back down next to the others, it being the fifth object of five that he’d examined. Having already looked through the legal paperwork, along with the list of prices that was sitting nearby, he tugged off his gloves and pocketed them, before stepping closer to Noble.
Raymond’s bodyguards were surrounding them, while the mafia boss himself stood slightly off-center, between him and the seller. Also wearing a suit, but not one as well-fitted asRaymond’s, the seller—Franko Silas—had his own bodyguards with him. He was a bald, broad-shouldered man, with a full beard, who probably stood a foot shorter than the mob boss.
Plastering a slightly fake smile on his face, he eyed Raymond and Franko, but only the mob boss smiled back. “They are beautifully detailed and exceptional pieces, a few are even museum quality. I can confirm that they are genuine 17th-century Ko-Kutani porcelain, all even bearing a clear fuku luck stamp on the bottom. The pieces perfectly emphasize the brightly saturated coloring Kutani pieces are famously known for. As for the details in the paperwork, they?—”
“There, your little appraiser has spoken and approved, so let’s finish this deal and get out of here,” Franko cut in sharply.
Ollie’s smile became slightly strained then, as he was forced to explain, “Mostly approved. What I was about to say was that while the details in the paperwork are mostly accurate, when it comes to the condition of the larger plate and bowl…they are not. Unlike what is listed, those two are not, in fact, pristine, as both have quite a few hairline cracks, which does affect the value.”
Ollie just barely held onto his smile as the seller’s face darkened with what he was sure was oncoming rage, as Raymond asked, “By how much?”
“Well, when taking in the rarity and complexity of the designs, the drop is not as significant as it would be if they were common. That being said, a fairer price for those two would be at least fifteen to twenty grand less than what they’re currently listed at.”
