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Chapter 17: A Private Viewing at Christie’s
Summer’s POV
“If it’s not too much trouble?” I hated how uncertain my voice sounded. “I know you must be hury
His dark eyes held mine for a king moment, and I fought the urge to fidget under that intense gaze. “Not at all, Miss Taylor, It won
His dark eyes studied me with that unsettling intensity I was starting to recognize, “What kind of gift did you have in mind for Mr. Ta
Mr. Taylor?
Maybe a painting, or another suitable collection piert? I kept my voice carefully casual, though my heart was doing odd little flips under his scrutiny “Grandpa George has always loved collecting art. His taste is quite similar to Grandpa Jonathan’s, actually.” There. A subtle hint about their shared interests: That should help kinu chumar.
Hranilor u expression shifted almost imperceptibly. “James.”
intant materialized beside us with that eerily efficient silence I was beginning to associate with him. “Yes, sir?”
“Have Christie’s manager prepare the special collection.”
caught the flash of surprise that crossed James’s face before he could mask it. His eyes darted to mor for just a moment before quickly looking away. I
reil a polite smile, more out of habit than anything else,
Brandon’s brow furrowed slightly – the tiniest movement bat nonetheless maille James straighten his spine and school his features into perfect neutrality,
“Right away, sir.” James’s voice was crisp and professional as he turned to carry out the order.
watched Brandon lean against one of the display cases with casual grace, wondering how he managed to make even that simple action look like something from a luxury advertisement.
“Sir, everything is ready.” James’s voler broke through my thought.
Brandon’s eyes found mine. Please. He gestomed toward a slourway I hadn’t noticed before, his hand coming to hover near the small of my back without quite touching mve.
The private viewing room took my breath away. If the main gallery was impressive, this space was extraordinary, Elegant wood paneling lined the walls, providing a perfect backdrop for custly artwork. The lighting was perfectly calibrated to showcase each piece, creating an atmosphere of hushed reverence.
I was so caught up in examining a particularly striking oil painting that I almost missed the sound of the door closing. When I turned, I realized James and the Christie’s manager had disappeared, leaving me alone with Brandon. The noong suddenly felt much smaller.
“My grandfather has a rate early Monet in his collection,” I said quickly, desperate in fill the loaded silence. Then I made the mistake of meeting Brandon’s gaze. The intensity in those dark eyes made my paise skip, and I quickly looked away, hest creeping up my neck. “Oh… where did James and the manager
LOT‘
See anything you der Hedi
mier my question.
“L… not yet. I’m n not very familiar with flor art.” I hated how brathless i sounded. Perhaps you could walk me through these pirers, Mr. Stark?”
A rate smile tugged at his lips, transforming his usually stern features into something that made my heart do a complicated gymnastics routine in my chest. Gud, he should come with a warning label when he does that
“Mi, Stark?” 1 prompted when he didn’t respond immediately, trying to go how the rooms intimate lighting seemed to soften the sharp angles of his face.
“My pleasure,” The winds rolled off his tongue
velvet, dark and rich with promive. A little passe, then “Let me show you something
aim brushed mine as he gestured to a particularly striking piece, and I had to
Parly With century,” he explained, his deep vuler taking on a scholarly tone that somehow made him even more attractive. “Notice the brushwork heir.” Ilia hid traced the alt just above the convvas, diawing my attention tu subtle details I would have missed.
so the set, ut his hands, I told myself firmly. But it was imposible not la notier have those eingint fingers moved with such prestains, how his whole
Chapter 17. A Private Viewing at Christie’s
“The artist was relatively unknown in his time,” Brandon continued, “but his technique was revolutionary. See how the light falls across the landscape?” He leaned closer. “It creates a depth that was unusual for that period.”
“It’s beautiful,” 1 managed, though I wasn’t entirely sure if I was talking about the painting or the way his eyes lit up with genuine passion as he explained its significance.
Then he surveyed the room slowly, his movements deliberate and graceful. When his gaze settled on something near the far wall, I followed his line of sight to a chess set displayed in an antique case.
The chess set was breathtaking – each piece crafted in pure silver, the workmanship so fine it looked almost alive. A small placard identified it as a 19th- century piece from the British Royal Collection. Just looking at it made my palmis sweat. That’s probably worth more than my entire apartment building
“Does Professor Taylor enjoy chess? Brandon’s question was casual, but something in his tone made me look up sharply.
I couldn’t quite hide my awe at the chess set, but practicality won out. “That’s… that’s far too extravagant, Perhaps we should look at something else?”
His lips curved into that infuriating half–smile that never failed to make my pulse race. Too extravagant for your grandfather? Or for you, Miss Taylor?”
of h
The way he said my name–soft but somehow intense–made me acutely aware Focus, Summer. You’re here to buy a gift, not get lost in Brandon Stark’s eyes. Even if they do look particularly dangerous in this lighting.
alone we were in this beautiful room full of priceless treasures.
moved toward a collection of smaller paintings, putting some much–needed distance between us. “Mr. Stark, I appreciate your help, but I’m looking for something… reasonable.” Something that won’t make me feel like I’m accepting another form of proposal.
“Reasonable.” He repeated the word like he was tasting it, finding It wanting. “An interesting choice of word, Miss Taylor.”
