Chapter 5
AVA
Ilean against the wall in the hallway, my hand to my chest, forcing my breathing to slow down.
I was trying to be an ice-queen, Grade-A bitch, when we were standing toe-to-toe, but the truth in my heart was much more complicated.
My body too, honestly, which is still a little sore from pregnancy and very sore from breastfeeding and sleeplessness.
There was desperation in his eyes, a savage sort of hunger and need for me to understand.
But that line? He thought I was dead? And that fake name.
I wasn’t born yesterday.
I return to the main hall as everyone drifts toward the seats at the front. The auctioneer is taking his place on the stage. Adrian walks over, gently touching my arm and leaning down. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” he replies. “But if you need, I can handle this alone.”
“Why would I need that?” I snap.
His lips flatten into a line.
Great, now I’m getting prickly with my boss.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I add quickly. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
Adrian looks across the room toward the place where several people are already looking.
Rafael, tall, broad, and dominating the room without even trying.
He glares at us like he hates the fact that Adrian is standing so close, as if he thinks there’s something going on between us and is intent on putting a bloody end to it.
“Do you know him?” I ask.
“I know of him,” Adrian replies.
“Who is he?”
“A man you should avoid,” Adrian says. “Let’s focus on work.”
He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it any longer, though I’m brimming with questions. What is his job? Why are people looking at him like he’s important? Why does every woman in here seem like she’d throw herself at his feet just for one second of his attention?
Okay, maybe I’ve got the answer to that last one in the way his suit grips his muscular body.
“Remember,” Adrian says, as we take our seats. “Athena Gravestone, but if the bidding gets too high, abandon ship. We don’t need her that badly. I’ll let you take the lead on that one, since you’ve been briefed. I’ll handle the rest.”
I clear my throat, tugging my mind back to work, thinking of Theo and the future and the need not to have to rely on anybody. “Okay, let’s do this.”
We sit in the third row, at the end, and Rafael sits at the front on the far side. That means I can turn my head and see him towering over everyone. I feel bad for the people behind him. It’s like sitting behind a suited brick wall.
The auctioneer stands at his podium, a short man with a white comb over and a silver tooth that catches the light.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says into the microphone.
“We are gathered here today to celebrate the great art for which this city is famous. This is an exclusive gathering of connoisseurs and artistic entrepreneurs…”
“Because we all came here for the preamble,” Adrian says in my ear. I laugh softly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement. Rafael has turned his head to glare at the quiet laugh as though it’s a personal attack on him. I don’t let him know I’ve noticed, though I feel his stare on my skin. It’s like fuel quickening my heartbeat, even as I fight the reaction.
“The pieces here today, as I’m sure you’re all aware, have been carefully selected for their likelihood of increasing in value. We are at the forefront here, folks, so, without further ado…”
“That’s a lie,” Adrian quips quietly.
I laugh again… and again, Rafael turns, seething, eyes blazing. I try not to let a smile touch my lips. It’s petty, sure, but maybe I’m feeling petty. Giving birth to a man’s child, then having him show up out of the blue with some phony story about a fake death will do that to a person.
The auction begins, with Adrian taking the lead as the auctioneer fires off in that staccato tenor.
Adrian wins two pieces, doesn’t bid for two, and then a fifth is rolled out.
It’s a painting of a volcano that uses real material from the volcano and has a deep backstory about the artist’s journey to get it.
Rafael raises his paddle on the fifth item, for three hundred thousand. That’s low compared to the other bids so far. But no one else raises their paddles. An eerie atmosphere falls over the crowd, and soon, the auctioneer announces. “Mr. Bellini, lovely choice.”
What the hell?
It’s like people are afraid of bidding against him. I look at Adrian, and he just shakes his head. He’s someone I should avoid, Adrian said. What would his reaction be if he found out that Rafael is Theo’s father?
The bidding goes on, and it happens again.
Rafael bids for his piece; no one challenges him.
I can’t lie. It’s starting to needle me.
He thinks he can just waltz in here and dominate the room and send confusing signals shooting through my too-tired body and then, on top of all that, bid without any competition. It’s ridiculous.
The auctioneer goes on, “And now we have something experimental, something truly avant-garde, a piece as interesting as the name of the artist herself. Athena Gravestone’s Peril is constructed from the real fabrics of war prisoners’ uniforms, built to make something, I’m sure you’ll all agree, that is truly one of a kind. ”
The assistants wheel the piece onto the stage. I gasp at the beauty of it, the skill. She has woven different colored fabrics onto a canvas to create a crying, surrealist face.
“Shall we start the bidding at fifty thousand?” the auctioneer says.
I raise my paddle.
“We have fifty, do we have sixty…”
Somebody else raises their paddle.
I keep going until we hit two hundred thousand, glancing at Adrian. He nods, then leans in and lowers his voice. “Try to keep it below five hundred.”
I swallow nervously. Five hundred thousand… it’s an amount of money I can hardly comprehend, but now I’m holding it in the palm of my hand. It’s like the paddle is suddenly a wizard’s wand.
At four hundred thousand, Rafael raises his paddle. That familiar hush moves over the crowd, as if everyone has already accepted this piece now belongs to Rafael. Adrian reaches over and gently touches my arm, as if to say, It’s not worth it.
But why? Why should he get to do whatever he wants whenever he wants?
The auctioneer looks around as if it’s already over as well. “Do we have four hundred and ten? No?” That no came way faster than the bids Rafael wasn’t a part of.
I raise my paddle. A collective gasp rings out. Everyone is clearly in on the joke except for me.
“Four hundred and… twenty?” the auctioneer says nervously.
Rafael turns and looks directly at me, his jaw clenched, his amber-gold eyes on fire. It’s as if Theo is all grown up and staring at me, the eyes are so similar. He raises his paddle. The auctioneer claps his hands like that’s the end of it.
But then I raise mine. And yeah, I enjoy the look on Rafael’s face, the uncertainty like he can’t believe that someone is standing against him. Everyone is looking at me. Nerves threaten to stop me, my cheeks flushing, heart pounding hard.
I refuse to back down.
I stare back at him, apparently the only person in this place brave enough to do that.
The bidding gets to four hundred and ninety. I make the bid for five hundred, then hold Rafael’s gaze. He stares back at me, his jaw ticking, his eyes seeming to soften. Or perhaps that’s just memories of the night we shared together clinging to me.
He makes to raise his paddle, then slowly lowers it. He inclines his head as if to say good job then turns back to the stage.
As the auctioneer announces our victory, I feel Adrian grinning at me.
I meet Cassie in the back office. She brings her fingers to her lips, pointing to the corner where Theo sleeps in his bassinet. She walks over and gives me a quick hug. “Everyone is buzzing about you standing up against the big bad wolf. Well done, girl.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, hugging her back. “I don’t get what the big deal is. I mean… who is he?”
Except the father of my child. But I don’t add that part.
“On paper, he’s a businessman. He owns a lot of real estate, as well as art, of course. But word around town is that he’s affiliated with the Italian mob. He runs his home city, apparently. And people don’t want to get on the wrong side of the mob.”
I swallow, chest clenching tight.
The father of my baby is a mobster?
“Ah,” I murmur.
Like this couldn’t get any more complicated.
“But don’t worry,” Cassie says. “Word on the street is he’s got morals.”
“Let’s hope that’s true,” I mutter quietly.
“Sorry to be a pain, but do you mind if I leave?”
“No, no, of course not.” I squeeze her arm. “You’ve been amazing, Cass. Really. Thank you.”
“It’s no problem. He’s the best.”
She leaves, and I go to the bassinet, looking down at Theo, sleeping soundly with that adorable little smile on his face.
He must feel my presence because his eyes peel open, staring at me with those amber-golds.
I pick him up as he begins to cry, rocking him softly.
In the main hall, people are partying, dancing, and celebrating their purchases. But I’m ready to go home.
Theo tips his head back and starts to really give it his all. He goes full opera singer until I’m afraid every glass in here might shatter.
“Hush, hush,” I murmur, stroking his back. His diaper is A-okay, so I try burping him, but he keeps wailing. My head is splitting with an oncoming headache, but hey, I guess that’s just part of being a mom.
Behind me, somebody clears their throat. I turn, expecting a staff member who’s going to tell me to keep the volume down.
“We’re leaving soon…”
I stop when I see Rafael closing the door behind him. He straightens to his full height, broad and powerful. A mob man who terrified almost everyone into submission. Except for me. But I didn’t know what he was when I made my move.
His eyes dart to Theo. “Is he… yours?”
I nod, mouth dry. “Uh, yeah.”
I turn, gently moving Theo from side to side. His cry is splitting me right down the middle.
“His name is Theo,” I say, feeling a pang in my chest despite myself.
How many times have I dreamed of introducing Theo to his father? Too many.
I wonder if I should say this, considering the bombshell Cassie just dropped. But at the same time, I think it would be unfair not to. He deserves to know, doesn’t he?
“And he’s yours, Rafael,” I say. “Theo is your baby.”