Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(41)

“Aye.”

“It was sold in a private auction a few years ago. No one even knows the name of the buyer.”

Kyrnon shrugged like that didn’t matter at all. “I’ll find it.” This time he sounded more sure.

The rest of the ride was spent in a comfortable silence. Thirty minutes later, they had finally arrived.

The Tuscan-inspired estate they pulled into was extravagant. Unlike the concrete jungle of the city, the mansion felt more like it belonged in the hills of Italy as opposed to its current neighborhood.

As they rolled up to the gate, a man wearing a dark suit with a wire in his ear held his hand up, stepped around to Kyrnon’s window. Letting it down, he presented their invitations. It only took a moment for him to check it before he was nodding and signaling for someone to open the gate.

Rolling up the cobblestone driveway, Kyrnon pulled around toward the front doors where a podium and carpet was set up, a valet attendant standing behind it.

Placing the car in park, Kyrnon grabbed his suit jacket from the backseat, and was out and circling around until he could get the door open for her. After slipping on her heels, she accepted his hand, carefully climbing out.

As the attendant came over, Kyrnon passed him the keys. “Take good care of her. Make sure she’s in good hands, eh?”

“Yes sir,” he rushed to say. “We take them around the house for safe keeping.”

Patting the man’s shoulder, Kyrnon sent him on his way and they started toward the doors, but he lagged a bit, watching the path the man took.

If she had his car, she’d probably do the same.

“This is amazing,” she whispered once she had a foot in the door, trying to take everything in, though it was nearly impossible.

Between the varying textures, enough priceless art and fixtures to keep her eyes occupied forever, there was so much, yet it didn’t take away from the rest of the decor.

“Still not better than my cabin,” he whispered back.

“Of course not, but you have to admit, it’s pretty nice.”

Kyrnon grumbled his agreement as they followed behind a couple as they headed into another room.

Rows of chairs were set up in arcs, designed for optimal viewing of the stage up ahead. Gabriel Monte was standing at the front of the room, head bowed as he had a quiet conversation with a woman in a red dress.

Kyrnon, too, seemed to be focused on the man, his gaze unwavering, making her wonder if he knew the man, but she didn’t get the chance to ask about it before they were in their seats and the auction was starting.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Gabriel said as he stepped behind the podium, pulling on a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses. “I would like to thank you all for attending. Please note that all bids are due in full at the completion of this auction. First up, we have a beautiful hand-carved statue from the Chechen Republic.”

With each item that was brought out, men in white gloves handled them preciously, giving the audience the opportunity to gaze upon them. As the bidding wars started, Amber was just thrilled to see it all happening.

Only once had she gone to an auction, and that was back when she was still living in California, and her father had brought her along after two minutes of pleading. Though her father hadn’t bought anything at the time, she still cherished the memory.

“Graciously provided by one of our generous benefactors is the L’amant Flétrie, a priceless work of art. We’ll start the bidding at one-million dollars.”

Amber’s brows shot up as she heard the price. Unlike the rest of the art works that were being sold all evening, this one had the highest starting asking price. Kyrnon looked to her when she sat up a little straighter, but his expression was unreadable.

Back and forth, people put in their bids, and very soon, the price was so high that she wasn’t surprised Gabriel had been able to pay her twenty-thousand for one replica. The painting was worth millions.

Finally, a man seated at the front of the room with a phone to his ear put in the winning bid: Twenty-seven million.

As the handlers came forward to remove the painting, it was Kyrnon now that was sitting up a little straighter.

“And next we have Nocturnal by Adelaide Moreau.”

Amber gasped softly as the painting was brought out, Gabriel’s words going right over her head as she stared at the painting that inspired the tattoo she had.

The painting was huge at eleven-by-fourteen feet, and needed three people just to bring it out. It was simple really, the moon’s cycle depicted in excruciating detail, balancing lights and shadows, making it look more like a photograph as opposed to a painting. Amber had fallen in love with it from the second she saw it a few years ago. Back then, it had been on loan to the Madison Institute.

Now here it was, up for auction.

It almost felt like destiny.

“The bidding will start at one-hundred thousand dollars.”

At that price, destiny could wait.

Kyrnon’s fingers danced down her spine, drawing her gaze to him. “This,” he said with a soft tap on her back, “for that?”

Of course he would get it right off. “One of my favorites.”

He nodded. “D’you want it?”

“What?”

“Yes,” Gabriel announced, pointing to a man sitting not too far from them. “I have one-hundred. Do I hear one-twenty-five?”