Chapter Seventeen
MINA
“And here I was, thinking things couldn’t get worse…” I grumbled.
“Just keep your cool,” Marius murmured, as much to himself as to me.
Because, crap. Now we had Celeste to deal with too?
It was almost ten a.m. the next morning, and we were arranging things in the new suite, where we expected Anastasia and the first of the potential bidders any minute.
Correction — Celeste was arranging things, because this was her suite.
Yes, a whole suite to herself, with me crammed into the adjoining one with four men. But they were just as adamant as I about keeping their distance from the succubus. Even Henrik.
Feel free to move in with Celeste, Gordon had phoned to say the previous evening.
Over my dead body, I’d nearly barked.
Could he really imagine us painting our nails and giggling over girl talk?
As if.
Oh, no thanks, I’d said as casually as possible. I’m already unpacked and settled in my room. You know, with my dresses…shoes…hair products…
I had exactly two dresses and two pairs of shoes (including my running shoes), plus a brush and a couple of scrunchies, but Gordon didn’t need to know that.
“You might want to check your hair, cherie,” Celeste said, fussing over the flower arrangement.
The flower arrangement I’d picked, dammit, and it was perfectly fine. Like my hair, I decided after a glance in the mirror.
“Ignore her,” Marius murmured through clenched teeth.
Dealing with Celeste on her own would be bad enough. Dealing with Celeste and Marius at the same time was downright hellish. I could practically see the emotional baggage piled up in the room. Suitcase upon suitcase of it, threatening to tip over and crush us.
And while I disliked Celeste — strongly — she downright despised me. Truly, thoroughly, bitterly. Any chance she found to rub her past with Marius in my face, she grabbed and scrubbed violently.
“Here. Let me fix your tie,” she told him, shooting a knowing sigh in my direction. “Every time we went out, I had to do this. The man can’t dress himself.”
Her playful tone hinted that she’d done a lot of undressing too.
Now I was the one holding Marius back and gritting my teeth, wishing myself back to my room and away from this nightmare.
A window opened in my mind, along with a perfectly clear vision of how I could walk through the intervening wall if I wanted, and even take Marius with me. I blinked at that brushed-by-moonlight moment and nearly held out a hand to test it.
Then someone banged on the door, and that window came crashing down again.
Bene called through the door. “Pizza delivery.”
I held the door open while Bene and Henrik carefully maneuvered in a huge crate and carried it to the easel we’d prepared.
“Pizza?” I scolded.
Bene grinned. “The Frank Marc special.”
“Franz,” I grumbled.
Celeste unnecessarily oversaw them unbox and set up the painting.
“Perfect,” she stood back to declare minutes later, as if all that hard work had been her doing.
“Yes, your work here is done.” Henrik held the door open for her.
She put her hands on her hips. “You’re not suggesting…”
“That you leave? That the client refuses to deal with anyone but Mina? Yes,” Henrik snipped. “Or no. Not suggesting. Stating.”
I cringed. Like Celeste needed another reason to hate me.
The vampire motioned to the door. “You may leave now. We’ll be sure to inform Gordon what a fine job you’ve done.”
“Or will it be me informing Gordon about you?” Celeste hissed, stalking to the door. On the threshold, she paused and stuck up her hand. “Key?”
No one budged.
“To your suite, I mean,” she said irritably.
The men all looked at one another or at the floor.
Celeste gaped. “Where do you expect me to wait throughout this process?”
Marius’s stormy expression answered her not at all politely.
“Unbelievable. This is my suite!” she raged.
“And Gordon’s orders,” Henrik told her, his expression stony.
In Mallorca, he hadn’t shown much remorse for falling under her spell, but apparently his conscience — such as it was — had him reconsidering.
I found myself warming a little toward him. As in about one degree above freezing. Still, it was something.
With a last, lethal look at me — me! — Celeste whirled and stomped down the hallway. Henrik slammed the door, and everyone exhaled…slightly.
“Where do you think she’ll go?” Bene asked.
Roux ran a hand through his hair. “Wherever it is, she won’t be far enough.”
Marius jutted his jaw in silent agreement.
We all stood mute for a full minute. Then I rearranged the flowers back to the way they’d been, just to spite Celeste.
Taking several deep breaths, I turned to the painting, reminding myself to focus on the positives.
I got to spend another few hours in the company of a true masterpiece, and I wasn’t about to poison that time with bitterness.
Bene tapped Henrik on the shoulder. “Come on, man. Off we go to lobby duty.”
Henrik followed with a sour look, but he didn’t argue the point. They’d been assigned that post in order to meet each buyer and escort them to this suite. Now, I realized that also allowed them to ensure Celeste didn’t interfere.
I glanced at Roux, who’d assigned everyone their roles. Had he had that much foresight?
Of course I did, his hard look told me.
I shook my head. Boy, was Marius right. I was in way over my head here.
He held up a white sheet and, at my nod, covered the painting.
Ten minutes later, a knock sounded, and Roux opened the door to Bene and Anastasia.
“Thank you,” Anastasia said warmly, patting Bene’s arm.
Clearly, the lion shifter had turned up the charm for her. He wasn’t a succubus, but stunning good looks and polite manners could have a similar effect.
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
“We’ll be outside if you need anything,” Roux said, stepping outside with Bene.
She kissed my cheeks in greeting, leaving lipstick prints Marius gestured for me to wipe away. Then she and I reviewed the schedule for the morning while Marius stood nearby, quiet as a mouse but menacing as a dragon. The ultimate bodyguard, as my girl parts couldn’t help noticing.
I slid a hand over my neck, then whipped it away before my body heated.
Another knock sounded, and Roux showed in our first candidate.
“Ms. Kepke,” he announced. Then he stepped outside, leaving just me, Marius, Anastasia, and her visitor.
“Nice to meet you.” Anastasia didn’t bother rising from her chair, but she did lift a hand to grip her guest’s in a brief, feminine greeting. Then she waved, introducing me. “This is Wilhemina. I’ve asked her to sit in on my appointments today.”
Subtext: You’re one of several potential buyers, and I can choose whomever I want, so you’d better impress me.
“Pleasure to meet you,” our prim, middle-aged guest replied smoothly. “And please, call me Raisa.”
She and I sat on the couch facing the covered painting, while Anastasia sat in an armchair kitty-corner to us.
“Now then, tell me about yourself,” she ordered.
I was impressed. Raisa was cool, calm, and professional. She laid out a stellar résumé, speaking passionately about art and knowledgeably about business. And no wonder — this was a woman accustomed to addressing national and international assemblies.
Then again, she had also been ejected from the European Parliament on corruption charges. A detail we’d mentioned to Anastasia in our briefing.
She’d barely waved a hand, muttering, “Now, there’s the pot calling the kettle black.”
“I’ve established a private investment group with the aim of protecting European cultural heritage…” Raisa explained, going on in more detail.
She made it all sound legit, but my research said the opposite.
I watched our guest closely. Raven shifter, Gordon’s file had said. It fit. Her dark eyes never stopped roving, quietly assessing everything from the flowers to the antique Chinese vase in a corner of the suite.
She appraised Marius too, sniffing discreetly. I knew the moment she identified the dragon in him, because her eyes widened, and she glanced over under the guise of fixing her raven-black hair. If I hadn’t been watching closely for any tell, though, I would have missed it.
She also appraised me, but my supernatural heritage was so mixed and my powers so weak, I came off as human. Also, I’d practically bathed in perfume. Roux had insisted, for reasons I tried not to take personally.
Raisa talked about an investment group, but most of her statements were in the first person.
“My goal is to create a mobile cultural museum…”
Yes, my research had indicated as much. Reports showed the idea going back a decade, but she still had nothing tangible to show, despite dozens of investors tossing in ten million euro apiece for their part of the action.
I’d hoped Raisa would convince me — of herself, her motives, and her investment group. But my hopes faded quickly. Too many catchy phrases, too few practical details.
“My museum will serve as the heartbeat of pan-European modernism…” she continued.
Anastasia wasn’t impressed, I sensed — to the point that I wondered if she would even permit Raisa a look at the painting. But Raisa must have sensed it, because she quickly baited a bigger hook and flashed it before Anastasia.
“Your painting would be exhibited in its own wing,” she promised. “A wing named in your honor. After all, we owe the painting’s existence to you and your family.”
I did my best not to cough at that airbrushed version of history.
Anastasia practically glowed, though. “My father nearly lost his life protecting that painting.”
Before or after he’d pillaged it as war booty? I nearly blurted.
Marius shot me a look of warning.
“Of course, my museum will only cater to the most exclusive clientele,” Raisa assured her.
“Of course,” Anastasia agreed, as if anything less would be a deal-breaker.
Eventually, Anastasia signaled for Marius to unveil the painting. When he did, Raisa clasped her hands to her chest. Her throat bobbed, and her eyes shone. Signs of genuine interest, or plain old avarice?