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Wow. It was beautiful. I walked over, pausing at the red security rope around it. It was all bright colors and strokes. A distorted painting of a typical French Quarter building, almost as though you were looking at it through water.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”
I turned to the young man beside me. He was eating a small canapé.
“It is. Fun and colorful. Original.”
“By New Orleans artist, James Michalopoulos. My boss is planning to buy it.”
I glanced around. “Your boss has good taste.”
“Oh, he prides himself on his good taste.”
“He’ll no doubt hang it in his private collection, then?”
The man snorted. “Hardly. He’s already organized for it to be donated to a local gallery.”
“Really?”
“You don’t know the half of it.” The man looked around and leaned in. “I know plenty of greedy rich people, but the boss, he gives so much away to good causes. Most of it done under the radar.” The young man shook his head. “Best job I’ve ever had.” A woman stepped up to the podium, and the man straightened his jacket. “Looks like we’re about to get started. Enjoy.”
I moved toward the chairs, looking at each of the auction guests. My gaze snagged on a guy in the back row, staring at me. He looked to be about six feet, shaved black hair, and a lot of stubble. Some guests walked between us, blocking my view for a few seconds.
When I looked back, I couldn’t see him. There was a sudden hubbub of conversation, and I turned my head.
And saw Kavner.
He strode in like a prince, nodding and smiling at people. He wore a dark gray suit that fitted his body perfectly. As I watched, he took a seat beside the young man I’d been talking with at the painting.
My chest tightened. Fury was the boss the young guy had been talking about?
Kavner lifted his head and our gazes connected. A smile curled his lips.
I turned away, my pulse rabbiting. Dammit.
Then I felt a strange prickle.
I sat down and did a slow scan of the crowd. The shaved-head man I’d seen earlier was staring at me again. His suit didn’t fit him well, and I got the impression wearing one wasn’t something he did a lot. His face didn’t look familiar.
I focused my gaze forward.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the woman at the podium said. “We have some wonderful artwork to share with you this evening. Let’s get started.”
10
KAVNER
Iwas supposed to be focused on the auction, where I intended to spend a great deal of money.
Instead, I was looking at London.
Her black hair was up in a ponytail, and I imagined running my hands through it. Was her hair naturally straight, or did she have curls? I wanted to find out.
She turned her head and shot me a pointed look.
I just smiled.
She huffed and looked away.
