Chapter 3 Enzo
ENZO
Taking a deep drag from my cigarette, I inhale the smoke, raising an eyebrow at the man across from me.
"I doubt it," I say, releasing a cloud of smoke.
"The last transaction got me two million.
It was half a frieze from the Elgin Marbles that never made it to the public.
" The buyer was a Greek tycoon who wanted to own a piece of his homeland—for private use, of course. So he'd paid a pretty penny for it.
"This one is even better, or so I hear." Manolo smirks at me, leaning back in his seat. He opens his mouth to say something more, his golden tooth glinting in the casino's light. "Six million." He tips his chin at me, probably waiting to see a reaction.
Six million? Yeah, I doubt it. There are very few pieces of art out there that are worth this much, and somehow I doubt Manolo has managed to acquire one.
"I'm intrigued." The corner of my mouth curls up in a challenge. I'm feeling restless tonight, and if Manolo is looking to lead me on, then he might be in for a surprise.
"I'll check with my mates in the back and I'll signal you." Satisfaction is written all over his face as he stands up to leave.
Once I'm alone at the table, my face automatically resets to my default expression—annoyance. My upper lip is twitching, whether for a fight or more whiskey, I don't know.
I tip the glass up, emptying the contents and enjoying the burn. I take out another cigarette and light it, staring into empty space.
"Alone, handsome?" a voice calls out to me from my right, and my annoyance immediately spikes. A touch follows, and she won't like what she unleashes if she doesn't take her fucking dirty-ass fingers off me.
I turn my head ever so slightly, taking in her skimpy clothes—supposed to attract attention—her fake hair and fake tits, and all I feel is disgust.
Her fingers continue to move across my forearms in what she probably thinks is a sexy move.
It's not.
"Take your fucking hand off me before I break it." I look her dead in the eye as I say this. She just laughs, a screeching sound that might break my whiskey glass. She comes closer, pushing her tits into me even more, and I stifle the urge to throw her off me.
"You're funny." She fake-giggles. Using only my thumb and my index finger, I remove her hand from my person.
"You're barking up the wrong tree, cara.
" I place an odd emphasis on the word cara, but she doesn't seem to get my meaning.
"I don't care if you're a woman or not, I will break your wrist." Her eyes widen in understanding, and she stumbles a step back, shocked.
I shrug and wait for her to crawl back to wherever she came from.
Taking out a handkerchief, I wipe my hand and my suit.
Fucking whores.
I stand up and head toward the bar, ordering another bottle of whiskey.
I don't know how long Manolo will be gone, but I need something to dull my senses.
The more, the better, or else I might snap.
My eyes trail around the room, scanning the various familiar figures.
Yes, it would not do well to snap. It would destroy my perfectly polished image.
Instead, I just fill my glass to the brim and light another cigarette.
It's been five years since I took over this branch of the family business.
The trade in art and artifacts is one of the most profitable avenues, if done right.
There are countless pieces that might seem like trash to some people but are in fact treasures to others—and those people will pay a fortune to acquire them.
If I'm being honest, it's something I enjoy.
There's a certain satisfaction in handling old artifacts or priceless pieces of art, and the more I learn about this, the more I see why some people are willing to pay millions of dollars to acquire them.
But that's just a side benefit. No, the reason I love this job so much is that it allows me to be as far away from home as possible.
After the debacle with my sister, Catalina, there's simply no reason to linger around—not when it means having to withstand my father's moods or my mother's comments.
They don't even know that my only reason for coming to New York is to see my sister and niece—everyone else can go fuck themselves.
Since Lina has been forced to live at Sacré C?ur with the nuns, though, it's even more convenient, as I don't even have to go home at all.
I take another drag from the cigarette, noting Manolo strutting toward me with a sheepish smile on his face. My own lips curl in response, curiosity brimming inside me. Six million? For an artifact? I'm very intrigued.
"Come," he says, patting my shoulder and urging me toward the back of the casino. I take the bottle with me and follow his lead.
We go down some stairs to a level even lower than the basement.
Halting in front of a steel door, Manolo uses his finger to open it with biometrics.
We step inside, and the room is bathed in light.
There are countless artifacts lying around, and even a few Egyptian sarcophagi in the very back.
The middle of the room has a big table, and a couple of people turn to look at us expectantly.
"Here he is, the Agosti heir," Manolo exclaims, moving toward the table and nodding at the men. They are slowly assessing me, their eyes moving over my body in a scrutinizing manner.
"You think he can do it?" one man raises an eyebrow, his voice full of skepticism.
"I've been doing this for a long time," I answer, looking him straight in the eye before gracing him with one of my better smiles. He doesn't seem immediately convinced, but he huffs, dropping the subject.
Manolo motions for me to take a seat before making the introductions.
"This is Professor Moore and Mr. Abruzzo.
They've been working on authenticating this artifact for a very long time.
" Manolo's emphasis suggests they take their work seriously, and I should avoid questioning their academic capabilities.
I give a brisk nod, my gaze settling on the briefcase in the middle of the table.
Manolo comes around and snaps the lock open, lifting the top of the case to reveal a small gold ring.
I immediately look back at him in confusion. That? Six million dollars for a ring? Call me skeptical, but I don't see how.
"This here is the ring of Edward the Confessor." Professor Moore dons a pair of gloves before picking up the ring and holding it up to the light.
It's nothing special, really. A thick gold band with some hollow places I assume used to house precious stones. I almost snort. It doesn't even have its most valuable items, and it's priced at six million?
"The buyer's in Malta, and he requires the item by noon on Wednesday," he looks me up and down again before continuing, "and I'm told you're the best person for the job."
"He is," Manolo quickly assures them. "He's the very best. He'll make sure the ring gets to the buyer by the designated time."
"Why is he willing to pay that much for a ring?" I ask. Maybe something escapes me, but six million for a gold band?
Professor Moore smirks.
"I gather you aren't familiar with the legend of the ring.
It belonged to Edward the Confessor, and it was used for his coronation.
See here," he points at the hollow space, "there used to be a sapphire here that is currently part of the British Imperial State Crown.
Edward was canonized, and that's what started rumors that his ring can perform miracles.
The ring disappeared in the sixteenth century, and it hasn't been sighted since.
It's considered a religious relic, and it's coveted by many people around the globe. "
I listen attentively to his explanation and merely raise an eyebrow after he's done.
"If it's been lost for so long, how can we know it's the real deal?"
"We don't. We did carbon-date it and run tests on it, and it fits the time period."
"But you can't know for sure," I add, thinking it's weird for someone to drop six million on the possibility that this might be a fake.
"No," he smiles, "but that's not important.
The people who believe will believe no matter what.
" He brings the ring closer to look at it.
"The reverse is also true. We can perform as many tests as possible, and there will still be skeptics.
It's the nature of the trade." He shrugs, placing the ring back in the briefcase.
Seeing that the deal is already secure and I just need to do my part, I ask no more questions. It's not my business if some random person is swimming in money and wants to splurge on a ring.
We spend some more time negotiating everyone's cut. Eventually, we settle on a third each, and I'm handed the briefcase.
The flight is booked for early the next morning—Palermo to Malta. Somehow, I don't see this job being too hard. I'll finish the delivery tomorrow, and I'll still have two days to spare until Wednesday. I may just spend some time in La Valletta since they have some great libraries.
While I enjoy artifacts, my true hobby lies in collecting old books.
Another perk of the job is that I'm the first one to get an alert if there's a new first edition being sold anywhere in the world.
It's also why I can't really begrudge our mysterious buyer for paying so much for a bauble.
I've paid a pretty sum for a book too—a first-edition Gutenberg Bible.
Considering there were only a few ever printed, it was worth every penny.
Putting the briefcase in the hotel's safe, I take off my clothes and head to the shower. When the steam greets my skin, I sigh in relief, finally allowing myself to relax a little.
But even that is cut short by my phone ringing.
With a curse, I stop the water and drape a towel around my waist. I reach the phone just in time to see it's my father calling. I roll my eyes but answer, as any dutiful son would.