East End (Hear No Evil Trilogy #1) - Nana Malone Page 0,12
so what the hell was I doing?
I raised my paddle again automatically, the hum of competition flowing under my skin.
The auctioneer called off numbers back and forth as we did silent battle with our paddles.
Who the fuck was that? And why wouldn't he just say die?
The painting was probably worth maybe eighty thousand. The artist was becoming a hot commodity, but honestly, this kind of bidding for an up-and-comer was ridiculous. But still, I couldn't stop myself.
Because I hated to lose. I hadn't gotten where I was by letting anybody win, and I certainly wasn't going to lose now. The funny thing was I hadn't even originally wanted to come to the auction. I'd begged off, told AJ to come down herself. Begged my mother to cancel her charity engagement. But now, it seemed like a good distraction.
The auctioneer called for a hundred and fifty thousand, and I raised my paddle. I should have just done this on the phone.
But you’re checking in on your girlfriend.
Fine. What I was doing was scoping out the Interpol building, which was just down the street. I could have said no to this today or done it on the phone, but when I noted the location, I decided to do a little reconnaissance. Not that I had plans of ever walking in through the front door, but it paid to be prepared.
It was just smart to know where all the cameras were.
Besides, thoughts of Nyla Kincade had caused me a sleepless night, and because of the idea that I might catch a glimpse of her, I may have jumped at the chance to be there in person.
One hundred seventy-five. I raised my paddle, frustrated that my competitor would not back down. Who was he?
That question was answered when he turned to his companion just to his left and murmured something, laughing, and then turned back to sneer at me.
His face. I knew exactly who he was. And a whole stream of feelings roared in as I raised my fucking paddle again.
Garreth Jameson. That twat. We'd gone to Eton together, though I barely thought much of him then. We were even peripherally friends most of the time until everything changed. After what he'd done, I vowed that one day I would kill him.
At the time I'd made that vow, it had been one of those things that you say but you only sort of mean. But now that I was a grown adult, had skills, power, and money, I meant it in a very real sense.
Bored, I sighed and raised my paddle before speaking clearly. "£200,000."
A hush fell over the auction. Jameson turned back to me, sneering once more, and I met his gaze, giving him a smug grin. He scowled and put his paddle down. "Yeah, that's right, you git." I mumbled to myself. “I won this time.”
It went on like that for the remainder of the auction. Me bidding on pieces I did not want merely for the joy of making him bid over his likely maximum. Driving up the price, sitting back in mock disappointment when I would lose out on pieces. Nodding in acquiescence as he got overly priced garbage.
One day, you really do need to grow up.
Yes, one day. Just not fucking today.
When it got to the pieces that I was there for specifically for our family collection, my bidding was modest but well within range. I knew exactly what they were worth and this time, I wasn't playing with my money. I was playing with Du Mont money. Of which my mother, being the last in the line of Du Monts, had plenty.
But I also knew she was very particular about her art. What she was and was not willing to spend on. There would be some pieces that would be kept in our family vault and some that would be on display in the museum in Monaco. When one of those came on the auction block, Jameson raised his paddle, throwing out the maximum sum my mother was willing to pay. I frowned. That son of a bitch. My palm itched to raise the paddle and force the price up.
Not your money. Stop it.
No, it wasn't my money, but what if I supplemented it?
Stop it. You’ve already spent £500,000 today. Don't be ridiculous.
That money was a drop in the bucket, honestly. But considering I hadn't intended to spend it when I’d left my penthouse earlier, it probably said something about how I felt about Garreth Jameson.