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“Business parters,” he says, and then, murmured beneath his breath, “and friends.”
I smooth a hand over the dark green silk of my dress. “That’s exciting.”
Anthony has time to shoot a dry look my way before his business partners are upon us.
“Have you seen what’s on offer?” the auburn-haired one says by way of introduction, an arm against the bar. The quick smile on his face makes up for a crooked nose… had it been broken once? “What the hell am I supposed to bid on here? A sixteenth-century French futon?”
“It would liven up your bachelor pad,” the dark-haired one says. His eyes find mine and I can tell he clocks how close Anthony and I are standing.
“Yes, but a futon?”
I clear my throat. “There’s a lovely set of china,” I say. “With a pheasant pattern.”
Anthony snorts at my side, reaching for his glass of brandy. The crystal hides the twitch of his lips.
“China,” the auburn-haired one repeats. “Victor has lost his mind about this whole thing.”
“I’m guessing he has no idea what’s actually being auctioned here tonight. Anthony, why don’t you introduce us to your date?”
He puts down his drink. “Gentlemen, this is Summer Davis. Summer, this is Carter and Tristan. We work together at Acture Capital.”
I shake their hands. Neither of them tries to hide the looks they shoot Anthony. Is it surprise? Shock? Regardless, I give them my widest smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” I say. “I’ve heard a lot about the work Acture Capital does.”
“A china expert and a venture capitalist fan?” Carter asks. “Anthony, where did you meet this woman, and can you point me in the same direction?”
“Much like a sixteenth-century French futon,” Anthony says, “Summer is one of a kind.”
I have to smile at that. He’d sidestepped the issue of me working at Opate, hiding it in the guise of a compliment.
“But unlike a sixteenth-century futon, I’m not usually sold at auction,” I add.
All three of them chuckle. “What a shame,” Carter says, putting down his glass. “Should we… oh. It’s showtime.”
A hush settles over the gathered guests as the MC takes the stage, tapping the mic a few times. He introduces the CEO of Exciteur to polite applause and a tall, dark blond man strides across the stage. The illusive fourth partner of Acture Capital. A glance at the brochure gives me his name.
Victor St. Clair.
“Let’s have a seat,” Anthony murmurs by my side. A moment later a large hand rests on the small of my back.
We find seats at the back of the room. His business partners sit two rows ahead, giving us privacy. I wonder if we should have made it clear that it’s not like that between Anthony and me.
The bidding kicks off with an abstract painting no bigger than my hand, by renowned-artist-I’ve-never-heard-of and at a price-too-high-to-comprehend. I sit in awed silence as items and trips are auctioned off at hair-raising prices.
Anthony doesn’t bid on a single one of them.
I lean toward him. His aftershave is pleasant, a hint of pine and musk. “Which one are you waiting for?”
He’s close enough that I can follow the raised arch of his eyebrow. “I’m going to get you your china, of course.”
I grin at the obvious joke. His gaze drops to my lips for a second before returning toward the stage.
“Now time for item number fourteen…” the auctioneer says. “A twenty-four-karat diamond watch from Cartier in the classic Panthéredesign.”
Anthony raises his hand.
I look at him, but he keeps his eyes on the rapidly speaking auctioneer. Two others bid as well, but Anthony’s arm rises another time. Then a third.
