‘Are you moving out?’ he asks from behind me, his interest clear.
I blank him and proceed to stab at every button on the key fob, pleading with every Greek god for help. The boot finally pops open, and I waste no time scooping my things from the ground and shoving them in messily. I want to physically itch myself.
My clumsy string of movements halts when a hand appears by my side, a familiar pair of knickers hanging from a finger. ‘You missed these.’
I snatch them from him, too worried to be embarrassed, and throw them in with the rest of my clothes. ‘Why aren’t you at the auction house?’ The question slips, my nerves getting the better of me. Think, Eleanor! What’s wrong with me? I handled the copper perfectly, but this man here shoots down my stability with one look. I’ve just volunteered the fact that I know Brent’s bidding on the 1965 Ferrari that Becker wants, and since Becker sourced that information on the sly from Simon Timms’s secretary, I’m guessing Brent was purposely keeping his intention to buy it under wraps. Or will he steal the car once Becker has bought it?
He homes in on my slip-up like a wolf. ‘Well, since I’m not at the auction house and someone is working on my behalf, neither you nor he could know of my intention to buy the Ferrari. So who did Hunt fuck to get that information?’ The question pierces my itchy skin like a hot poker.
‘I guessed.’ I slam the boot shut and head for the driver’s door. ‘Since your life’s ambition is to try and get the upper hand.’
‘Try?’ Brent muses. ‘It didn’t take much trying. In fact, I just took a call to congratulate me.’
My heart sinks. He got the car? Something tells me Becker wasn’t as gracious in defeat today as he was when Brent won the fake sculpture. Shit, he’s going to be in a foul mood. ‘Why are you here, Brent?’
‘Well, I heard you’ve been talking to Stan Price. Throwing accusations around.’ He strolls casually to the other side of the Audi and stares across the roof at me.
I’m blank for a moment. He looks pissed off, understandably, I guess. ‘There were no accusations. I merely advised Price that I saw you at Sotheby’s that day. Because I did.’
He smiles. It’s salacious. ‘I thought, working for Hunt and all, you would’ve learned how to keep it zipped.’
‘I have no loyalty to you, Brent.’ Go. I should just leave. ‘Why are you here? Why are you doing this?’
‘Because this is what Hunt and I do, Eleanor,’ he answers simply, knocking me back a bit.
‘Not any more.’ My retort isn’t nearly as curt as I wanted it to be, more a breathy gasp. My nerves are frayed. ‘Becker’s done with this game you’re playing.’ It seems ludicrous to describe this madness as a game. Lives have been lost. Crimes committed.
‘You believe that?’
‘Yes.’ I open the car door, eager to escape. ‘He wants no part of it, and neither do I.’
‘But you are a part of the game, Eleanor. Like it or not. And you’re a surprisingly appealing pawn to win.’
I bristle, pausing by the door. ‘You’ve got the sculpture, you got the painting, you don’t get me, too.’
He shakes his head on a little laugh. ‘He really does have you fooled, doesn’t he? But, for the record, I’d trade the sculpture for you. I’d even throw in my new Ferrari. The one Hunt was so desperate to add to his collection.’
I laugh lightly in disbelief. He’s amassing all of these things, all things that Becker wants, and he thinks he can trade them all in? For me? And worse still, I sense he thinks that Becker would take his offer. ‘You can’t buy me,’ I snipe.
‘Anything can be bought, Eleanor.’
‘Not me,’ I affirm with grit. Besides, Brent may have the car Becker wanted, but he doesn’t have the sculpture. Not that he knows that. ‘Brent, do yourself a favour and stay away from me.’
‘Or what?’
I take a moment to consider my or what. ‘Or you’re going to push Becker too far, and, trust me, you really do not want that.’ I jump in the Audi and race off down the road, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. Because I get the feeling that Brent is doing exactly that. Pushing Becker to get the reaction. To keep the game up.
Chapter 26
After driving back to The Haven, stupidly recklessly, taking all of my