thousand. It’s worth a few million now.”
“It’s a fake,” she said.
5
MIRANDA
I might as well have told Lachlan he had to sell a kidney, judging by his shocked expression. Champagne had loosened my tongue, revving up my normally sluggish social skills.
“How do you know?” he finally asked.
“I’m very familiar with Monet and his palette. Any expert eye would tell you that the yellow isn’t his, and the brush strokes are all wrong. It’s not even a good fake, to be honest.”
The frown deepened on his face, as though he was trying to solve a complex riddle.
Wearing a skintight red satin gown, Britney slunk over to join us, just as he was about to speak. She cast Lachlan a seductive smile and ignored me entirely. I couldn’t blame her. Lachlan stole the show in that black tux that fit his tall, buff physique like a glove, enough to make anyone’s panties melt.
He turned to Britney. “Miranda said that the yellow Monet is a fake. What happened to the original? Is it locked away in a vault somewhere?”
Britney glanced at me, and her glacial glare turned me into an ice sculpture. “That wasn’t part of the job description.”
I shrank. “I’m sorry. I…”
“She did the right thing. Let’s remember who’s boss here,” he said with a deep, authoritative voice. “I want you to look into it and tell me what happened to the original.”
Britney returned a sheepish nod.
He turned toward me and cocked his handsome head. “Coming?”
It wasn’t until we’d positioned ourselves on the other side of that grand room that I said, “I hope I haven’t done something wrong.”
“No. You’re a fantastic asset. Brains are a rare commodity these days.”
His eyes trapped mine, and although I could have stared at that face all night, I had to look away in order to breathe.
A pretty brunette joined us and whispered something into his ear. Giving them space, I decided to take a look at what was up for auction.
Upon entering the adjacent room, I discovered a space that resembled a museum. Its bold dark-green walls made the gilt-framed art stand out in sharp contrast.
The offerings consisted mainly of abstracts and landscapes and, although well executed, lacked appeal.
“Anything worth buying?” I heard over my shoulder.
I turned, and my boss smiled back at me. “You don’t mind if I hang here with you for a minute? Cassandra Castle’s been drinking and coming on strong.”
“You don’t like flirty girls?” I asked.
“It’s sexy coming from the right person, which Cassandra is not.” He shrugged. “And there’s nothing like a bit of mystery.” A hint of a smile gracing those shapely lips made my nipples hard, and for the first time, I was thankful for this sack of a gown.
“If you keep showing disinterest, they may get the wrong idea about us,” I said.
“They can think whatever they like.”
“I keep noticing brows raise every time other guests glance our way.”
“Hey, apart from that horrible dress, I’m more than happy to be seen with you. Plus you’re an art expert.”
“Well maybe not an expert,” I said.
“You know more than I do.” He smiled. “Would you mind looking over the collection at the estate?”
“I’d love to help where I can. It’s my ambition to deal in art.”
“That sounds like a noble pursuit,” he said, trapping me with one of his lingering stares.
I had to look away because of a sudden dizzy spell, which wasn’t the champagne’s doing.
My attention landed on a painting, which served as a welcome distraction. “Oh my. That’s beautiful.”
Lachlan looked up at the Picassoesque image. “Hmm … it’s colorful. I’m not an art expert, but I know what I like.” He looked into my eyes again as though we were talking about something other than art. “Well spotted. That’s an attractive painting. The longer one looks at it, the more one sees.”
“That’s the sign of a great work of art.”
His burning gaze shifted from the painting to me again, scorching my cheeks.
When he returned his attention to the painting, I was able to breathe again. “Is this worth bidding for?”
I nodded. “It’s a George Condo. He’s still alive, popular, and very collectible. I’m actually amazed it’s here.”
“Many people I know donate.”
“That’s nice to know.” My focus shifted to a scribbled work on paper. “Shit,” I blurted out and bit my lip. “Sorry for swearing.”
“It’s all good. I know I’ve said a lot worse than that.” He smiled at me, then his brow creased as he studied the painting closely. “Is that scrawl worth something?”
I had to laugh at