Chapter 18: Walking Into His Trap
Summer’s POV
I followed him around the room, listening as he explained the significance of various artworks. His knowledge was impressive, but what caught me off guard was his obvious passion for the subject. This wasn’t the cool, calculating CEO of Stark Group – this was someone who genuinely loved art and its history. “You know so much about all of this,” 1 remarked as he finished explaining the historical context of a particularly valuable sculpture.
“Art tells us about more than just beauty,” he replied, his voice taking on that velvet–soft quality that made my skin prickle. “It tells us about desire, obsession, the lengths people will go to possess something they consider precious.”
Why do I feel like we’re not just talking about art anymore? That’s quite philosophicall, Mr. Stark,”
Brandon’s eyes held that dangerous glint 1 was starting to recognize all too well as he swept his hand across the private viewing room. “So, that piece? Or perhaps the Royal Collection chess set? I think they are both quite good.”
We were standing close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “Your grandfather would appreciate the historical significance of that piece,” he said softly. But this piece has another interesting feature.”
“Oh My voice came out embarrassingly breathy.
Brandon’s lips curved into that dangerous half–smile. “The artist painted it for the woman he loved. It’s said he spent months perfecting every detail, wanting to capture the exact way light fell across the hills near her home.”
The intensity in his dark eyes made my pulse race. “That’s… quite romantic,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Indeed.” His eyes never left mine. “So, do you think that is a reasonable gift? No?”
I shook my head. “Mr. Stark, 1
“Theres more to see,” he
e cut me off smoothly, already moving toward another display. Okay, he must have known that I simply cannot afford them
His gaze traveled around the room before suddenly stopping. “Perhaps this would be more suitable.”
I followed him to a display case, curious despite my better judgment. Inside sat what appeared to be a relatively simple fountain pen. The design was classic and elegant – exactly the kind of thing Grandpa George would appreciate. He’d always loved writing with fountain pens, claiming they gave his thoughts the proper weight on paper.
Finally, something that doesn’t look like it costs more than my apartment. I studied the pen more closely, admiring how the light caught its understated gold accents. The craftsmanship was clearly exceptional, but in a way that spoke of quality rather than ostentation
“This one,” I said firmly. “It’s perfect for Grandpa.”
“Have it wrapped for Miss Taylor.” Brandon’s deep voice carried that note of absolute authority that seemed to make everyone around him snap to attention.
The manager hesitated. This… um…”.
“Is there a problem?” I asked, my stomach sinking. Please don’t let it be astronomically expensive. I’ve already blown through so much of my savings moving out of the family mansion.
“No, no!” The manager’s sinile looked slightly strained as his eyes darted between Brandon and me, “If Miss Taylor likes it, I’ll have it wrapped right away
I watched the staff handle the pen with almost reverent care, which did nothing to case my growing suspicion about its true value. It’s fine. I’m an Executive Director at Fortune Corp. I can handle this. Even if I had to cat instant ramen for a month, Grandpa was worth it.
A familiar anxiety gnawed at my stomach the same feeling I’d had when signing the lease for my new apartment. Every major purchase now came with a mental calculation of how many extra hours I’d need to work, bow many luxuries I’d need to cut back on. Gone were the days when I could swipe the Taylor family credit card. But isnt this better? No strings attached, no obligations, no having to smile and nod while Victorin gets everything handed to her on a silver Platter
“Manager,” I squared my shoulders, “how much is
is the pen?”
“Let James handle the payment details Brandon’s tone brooked no argument.
Walking Inta
My protests died in my throat as he turned those lack eyes nii
“Miss Taylor, after all my assistance today, perhaps you d like to show your appreciation?”
it crept up my neck, Was this his plan all along?” I could treat. Mr. Stark to dinner?”
The smile that curved his lips made my heart, de a complicated gymnasties routine. Td be delighted to accept Miss Taylor’s invitation.”
“That Mr. Stark, I haven’t paid yet!” I protested weakly as he guided me toward the exit.
James materialized beside us with his usual cette efficiency. “Miss Taylor, please go ahead with Mr. Stark. I’ll handle everything here and arrange delivery of you gif. You can pay the bill later. It’s all right.”
As Brandon led me out of Christie’s, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just walked into an expertly laid trap. Everything had happened so smoothly, like pinces moving across a chessland according to some master plan.
Brandon’s hand at my elbow guided me through Christie’s elegant doors and into the cool evening air. My mind was spinning with questions and suspicions, but something told me I wouldn’t get striglu amwers even if 1 asked.
He stopped so suddenly I nearly ran into his hack. “What are you thinking?”
I stumbled slightly, catching myself just before colliding with his impossibly expensive suit. “… where would Mr. Stark like to have dinner?
dark eyes studied
face with that intensity that never failed to make my pulse race.
Something about his expression made me wonder if I’d just agreed
to much more than a simple thank–you dinner,
What bene potten myself auta?
