Chapter 11
“Would you both care to join me? I’d value your expertise as I browse the collection.” Vincent gestured toward the next gallery
room.
“We’d be honored,” I said, falling into step beside him while Adrian walked on his
other side.
“Tell me more about the Mitchell operations,” Vincent said as we paused before a striking Monet. “Your family has always maintained such… discretion.”
“My grandfather believed in working from the shadows. “The loudest voice isn’t always the strongest,‘ he used to say. We’ve focused on strategic partnerships rather than territorial expansion.”
“Wise man, your grandfather. I had the pleasure of meeting him once, years ago.”
“The Mitchell–Castellano shipping arrangement in ’92?” I raised an eyebrow.
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Vincent’s eyes crinkled. “You know your history.”
“My father made sure I understood every detail of our operations. He believed knowledge was the best inheritance he could give me.”
“Now this piece,” Adrian cut in smoothly, pointing to the Monet, “represents a pivotal moment in impressionism. The technique here completely transformed how light was captured on canvas.”
“Fascinating.” Vincent leaned closer. “And what would you say about its investment potential?”
“Its provenance is impeccable. Given current market trends, I’d expect at least a fifteen percent appreciation annually.”
“You have quite an eye for both aesthetics and economics, Mr. Constantine.”
We moved through the gallery, Adrian offering insights on each masterpiece while I shared carefully chosen details
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about my family’s operations. Vincent seemed to grow more intrigued with each exchange.
“The Mitchells have always understood the value of reliable partners,” I said as we
studied a Degas. “It’s why we’ve maintained such stable relationships with families like yours.”
“Indeed.” Vincent nodded approvingly. “Your father raised you well, my dear.”
Vincent clasped his hands together, his weathered face lighting up. “My dear, I must say this evening has been most illuminating. The Mitchell family’s approach to business is exactly what we need in these changing times.”
He extended his hand to both Adrian and me. “I would be honored to explore a deeper connection with the Mitchell family. Your understanding of both art and business…” He gestured at the paintings around us. “It’s refreshing to find others. who appreciate the finer things in life.”
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“You’re too kind,” I said, accepting his
handshake.
Vincent’s shoulders dropped slightly. “Truth be told, I find myself in a difficult position. Age catches up with us all, and I lack a suitable heir to carry on my legacy. My own children never developed the… necessary appreciation for our way of life.”
“The Mitchell family would be honored to strengthen our ties,” I said, choosing my words carefully.
“Wonderful. I’d love to meet with your family soon, discuss matters more formally. Perhaps over dinner next-”
“That sounds wonderful.” A familiar voice cut through the air like a blade.
My spine stiffened. The champagne in my stomach turned to acid as footsteps echoed across the marble floor behind us.
I didn’t need to turn around. I knew those steps. That voice. But I turned anyway, my fingers curling into fists at my side.
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It was Primo.
He strode toward us with a grin spreading across his face.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed. “And you might be?”
“Primo Chromos.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Asteria’s fiancé.”
My jaw tightened, but I forced my lips into a smile. The word ‘fiancé‘ felt like poison in
my ears.
“Isn’t that right, darling?” Primo’s hand beckoned me to his side.
My feet moved without my permission. Each step felt like walking through cement, but I maintained my composure. His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me close against him. The familiar cologne that I once found intoxicating now made my stomach turn.
“Yes,” I managed, the lie bitter on my tongue.
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“It will be my pleasure to join the dinner with the Mitchell family as well,” Primo said, his grip tightening slightly around my waist. “After all, we’re practically family already.”
I caught Adrian’s gaze for a split second. His face remained impassive, but I recognized the calculated stillness in his stance. He understood as well as I did – any reaction now would destroy everything we’d worked for. The pieces were already in motion, and we couldn’t afford to show our hand.
Vincent glanced between us, curiosity dancing in his eyes. “How wonderful. The more the merrier, as they say.”
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