Chapter 10
I gripped the steering wheel of my Aston Martin, weaving through morning traffic toward the Bellamy Gallery. “This could change everything for us. The Big Five’s protection would make Primo think twice about coming after you or my family.”
Adrian adjusted his cuff links, his gray eyes reflecting the sunlight. “And you’re certain they’ll be receptive to an alliance?”
“They respect strength and strategy. My father’s built one of the most successful operations on the east coast.” I turned into the gallery’s private parking. “We just need to make the right impression.”
“I’ll follow your lead.” He stepped out of the car, offering his arm as we approached the
entrance.
The gallery buzzed with New York’s elite – politicians, CEOS, old money families. mingling between priceless paintings and
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sculptures. Adrian paused at each piece, examining brushstrokes and composition with genuine interest.
My breath caught as I scanned the crowd. “There.”
I inclined my head toward an elderly man studying a Rembrandt. His tailored suit. probably cost more than most people’s cars. A polished wooden cane rested against his leg, though I doubted he actually needed it. To most, he looked like just another wealthy art collector.
But I noticed what others missed – the way his security detail blended seamlessly into the crowd. Three by the entrance, two near the windows, another four scattered throughout the room. They looked like normal gallery patrons, but their practiced movements and watchful eyes gave them away to someone who knew what to look for.
“Vincent Castellano,” I whispered. “Head of the Castellano family. One of the most
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powerful men in the country, though most people don’t even know he exists.”
Adrian’s hand tightened slightly on my arm. “How do you want to play this?”
“We need to get his attention without being obvious about it. Make him come to us.”
Adrian squeezed my hand. The sudden warmth of his fingers intertwined with mine sent an unexpected flutter through my chest.
“I’ve got this. Just follow my lead and watch for your moment.” His voice dropped low, meant only for me.
I shot him a skeptical look but let him guide me through the crowd. His thumb traced small circles on my hand as we approached Vincent’s position by the Rembrandt.
Adrian’s entire demeanor shifted. His eyes lit up with genuine excitement as he studied the painting. “Oh, the brushwork here is extraordinary. Look at how the light
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falls across the subject.”
I felt Vincent’s security detail adjust their positions, their attention zeroing in on us. One shifted his weight, hand drifting toward his concealed weapon.
“The symbolism in this piece would make it perfect for the east wing of your family estate.” Adrian’s voice carried just enough to reach Vincent’s ears. “The historical significance alone…”
Vincent’s lips curved into an amused smile. He turned toward us, leaning slightly on his cane. “And what significance would that be, young man?”
Got him.
I kept my expression neutral, but inside I was grinning. Adrian had played it perfectly, appealing to Vincent’s well- known passion for art while piquing his curiosity about potential buyers in his territory.
Adrian’s eyes sparked with genuine
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enthusiasm as he gestured to the painting. “The interplay of light and shadow here speaks to Rembrandt’s mastery of chiaroscuro, but what’s truly fascinating is how this piece was commissioned during the height of Dutch Golden Age trading. The merchant class’s influence is subtly woven throughout, from the subject’s clothing to the imported Turkish carpet in the background.”
Vincent’s eyebrows rose. “Impressive observation. And you are?”
“Adrian Constantine.” Adrian extended his
hand, which Vincent clasped firmly.
“And this lovely young lady?” Vincent’s
shrewd gaze shifted to me.
“Asteria Mitchell, sir.” I bowed my head
respectfully. “It’s an honor to meet one of the Big Five families.”
Vincent’s eyes widened slightly. His
security detail tensed, but he raised his
hand subtly, signaling them to stand down.
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to me.
“So, you’re one of us.” His voice dropped to barely above a whisper.
I nodded. “Yes. The Mitchell family has operated on the east coast for generations.”
“Ah yes, the Mitchells.” Vincent’s expression warmed. “Your organization has quite the art expert as well, if I’m not mistaken.”
“You’re too kind,” Adrian replied smoothly. “It’s simply a pleasure to share insights with Vincent
