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“Of course, I don’t mind. Once you’re cleared for the VIP event, you’ll get a package with all the information for each auction item, including validation and authentication.” Her phone buzzes with a text and she reads it before glancing at me. “I’m going to handle a little problem while you fill out your paperwork.”
“Of course,” I say, and grab the folder as well as the pen she’s set next to it.
The paperwork is fairly basic, but I’m giving her permission to run my security check. Which is fine, I remind myself. My mother made sure my father’s name doesn’t pull up on any of my paperwork. I fill out the documents, I’m just finishing when my cellphone rings with an unknown number.
Nervous every call is about Gio, and not in a good way, my adrenaline spikes and I answer tentatively. “This is Aria.”
“Aria, this is Alexander.” Even his voice radiates arrogance. “You want to talk wine, I hear?”
“I do,” I say, and as much as I hate to invite his flirtations, I know this needs to happen in person. “Can we meet?”
“I tried to make sure I saw you again last night, but you blew me off.”
“And yet here we are talking.”
“Can you meet me at Jerry’s bakery in Tribeca in an hour? If I can’t win you over, their cookies will.”
Tribeca, home of the rich and famous like Kace, but that area is busy and a bakery feels simple and friendly. “I’ll be there.”
We say a quick goodbye and disconnect just as Crystal returns. “All set?” she asks, walking toward me.
I stand and turn to face her. “I am,” I say, “and thanks to you, Alexander called. I’m going to meet him.” I hand her the file filled with my paperwork. “You don’t happen to know of any other rare wines you might have coming up?”
“I do believe we’ll have one or two ready to be auctioned off in a few weeks. I’ll see what I can find out about them and let you know when I call to officially invite you to the VIP event.”
“Thank you so much, Crystal,” I say, and I’m probably saying thank you too much, but it’s out, it’s done. I just can’t stop myself. I’m very polite, as Kace had readily pointed out. And he’s not wrong. I say thank you. I say please. Please. That word reminds me of Kace all over again. Please has appropriate uses, he’d said, and just thinking about the raspy, sultry tone of his voice has me swallowing hard.
“We should have lunch,” Crystal suggests, drawing me out of my reverie. “It seems we live in a similar world. Maybe we can help each other out here or there.”
Friends are not a good idea, not in my world, but there’s something about Crystal that is hard to resist. She’s also a great connection to help our business. “I’d love that.”
“Terrific. I’ll call you Monday and we’ll work out all the details for the event and lunch.”
“Perfect. Now, I’m going to go wrestle for that wine.”
She laughs. “Good luck.”
I turn and then hesitate, rotating to face her again. “Is there a Sofia who works here or that you know?”
Her brows furrow. “No. That name is remotely familiar, but no bells are ringing. Why?”
“My brother’s traveling, but he’d gotten a tip from her about the violin. I just wanted to thank her. I thought he said she worked here, but I must have misunderstood. Anyway. Thank you again.”
A few minutes later, I exit to the street, and disappointment jabs at me. No one knows Sofia but Gio. And now he’s missing. What if Sofia isn’t even her real name?
I need to hire a PI and that means I need to buy this wine off Alexander.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jerry’s Bakery is smack in the most elite part of the rich and famous strip of Tribeca and near the Hudson River. After a packed subway ride, I arrive at the cute little spot, easy to identify by way of its baby blue wooden sign and two matching wooden benches out front. A line of people has formed and extends past the double open doors. I step past the crowd and enter the bakery, walking around the register. The scent of sweet treats is deliciously tempting, while the seating area I bring into view is a cute rainbow of colored wooden tables and chairs.
“Aria.”
I glance to my right and toward the back of the seating area to find Alexander standing just behind an order pick-up counter, motioning for me to join him. To my surprise, he’s not perfectly pressed and in a suit today. In fact, not only is he wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but as I close the space between us, I find his thick dark hair in wavy disarray. Somehow it all makes him a little more human and likable. Even more so when I stop in front of him and he announces, “I bought some cookies and a coffee for you, to spare you the line.”
