A Reckless Note (Brilliance Trilogy #1) - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,4
if you claim this treasure for me.”
“You’ll know the minute I know.” We disconnect and hope fills me. I’m closer to answers just by gaining Ed’s approval. And this is a good deal for the business. There was a time when we thought we’d do deals like this one often. I’ve avoided the auction houses to stay out of the spotlight, but no more. We have to pay the bills. And I, oh damn, I have to buy something to wear to this event. I need to look like I belong, and unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of friends walking around I might borrow clothes from. And with good reason: the people I care about disappear.
I scan the auction list again and look for any other item that might match a client’s needs. Unfortunately, I can’t find one. But this wine is a respectable purchase, albeit not the ten million a Stradivarius violin would sell for, but it’s going to have to do for now.
I don’t know how it happens, but I lean against my headboard and google Kace August. I have no business showing interest in this man, but I tell myself it has nothing to do with those blue eyes and all that talent. It’s simply that he’s too close to my roots for comfort. He’s potentially trouble for me. I need to know who I’m dealing with. But he’s a private person off the stage. I find only the basics. He’s thirty-four. As a prodigal violinist, he studied with some of the best violinists in the world and did so as young as ten years old. He’s traveled the world to perform. He’s also been attached to a few actresses and models. Of course, he has been, and yet I replay our exchange today and the perfect roll of his tongue when he spoke Italian. I pull up one of the many YouTube videos of his performances and hit play. I sigh after the first is complete. He’s brilliant. I wanted to play and be brilliant, too. I used to play. But that wasn’t my destiny. And so, for now, I indulge myself. I get lost in listening to the beautiful way he plays.
***
The event at Riptide is formal and requires you to buy tickets, which are not cheap, but I buy my ticket. The formal nature of the auction at least works in my favor. A formal dress is hard to identify by label, which allows me to purchase a bargain. I buy a black dress with beautifully etched long black lace sleeves that cost under two hundred dollars. I buy Christian Louboutin black heels that cost far more, but the red soles tell people they cost money and I can wear them for work meetings as well. I manage to find a classic black Chanel purse on Craigslist for a fraction of the cost I’d pay otherwise. I also fretfully buy a few mix and match outfits, because I have to be ready to move in this upper echelon of the collectibles world. We should have been doing this already. I just pray I snag that bottle of wine to pay for all of this.
The auction begins at eight PM and I take an Uber rather than ride the subway to arrive at seven-thirty as was suggested on the website. Amber, the redheaded receptionist that I’d met before, greets me. “Welcome. I remember you.”
I manage a smile despite my mixed feelings about being remembered. I’ve spent my entire life trying to blend in, trying to be someone I’m not. And yet, being remembered by Mark Compton and his staff is important tonight. “As I do you, Amber.”
She smiles at her name and directs my next move. “We’ll be holding this event in the ‘Silver Room.’ Follow the signs.”
“Thank you.”
I hurry across the white shiny tile, following the signs and the fancy dresses. This formality is for an open event. What must the VIP event be like? Nerves are lighting up my entire body and I walk down a long hallway to finally find double glass doors labeled “The Silver Room.” Inhaling to calm myself, I open the door and enter a room filled with fancy dresses and suits, as well as waiters carrying champagne and finger foods.
I’m handed an auction list and I walk to one of the many tables covered in white tablecloths. I quickly scan the list, praying the wine is still a part of the offerings, and it is. Relief washes