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His gaze narrows on the painting, a calculating smirk forming on his lips. It doesn't take long for him to realize my intentions – he knows all too well what it means to want to impress someone, especially the woman who walked out on him at the masquerade.
"Ten thousand," I hear Frank call out, his voice dripping with arrogance as he points at the painting we want.
"Eleven thousand," I counter without hesitation, determined not to back down.
"Twelve," he retorts, the smirk on his face growing wider.
"Thirteen," I shoot back, my jaw clenched in frustration. Jasmine places her hand on my arm, concern etched into her features.
"Are you sure about this, Dario? It's just a painting."
"Fourteen thousand," Frank interjects before I can respond.
"Twenty thousand," I declare, silencing the room. The other bidders fall away, leaving Frank and me locked in a battle of wills.
"Twenty-five," he sneers, his eyes filled with malice.
"Thirty," I reply, refusing to be outdone. The stakes are high, but so is my resolve. I won't let Frank stand in my way.
"Fine," Frank grumbles, finally relenting. "It's yours."
"It always was," I say, my tone cold and unyielding. With a nod to the auctioneer, I finalize the purchase. Jasmine looks at me, her eyes filled with gratitude and awe.
"Thank you, Dario," she whispers, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my cheek.
"Anything for you," I assure her, wrapping an arm around her waist as we admire our newly acquired masterpiece together.
"Enjoy your overpriced paint splatters," Frank sneers, his eyes dark with anger as he storms across to us. By my side, I feel Jasmine grow uneasy at our standoff.
"Watch your mouth, Frank," I warn, my voice low and dangerous. In a flash, he's in front of me, his face inches from mine.
"Or what?" he taunts, pushing his chest against mine in a blatant show of aggression. "You'll go crying to this whore right here?" he says, turning to give Jasmine a look over.
The way he calls her a whore makes my blood boil. "How dare you?" I snarl, inching closer and grabbing his collar. "Don't you dare speak about her that way."
"Just remember, before she got away with you that night, I had my hand all over her ass," he spits back at me.
"That is not true," Jasmine adds, calmly.
How can she remain so calm when I'm ready to bash the living daylights out of this guy? If Jasmine won't take offence, I will feel offended for the both of us, I decide.
I refuse to be intimidated, even as the other attendees begin to murmur and back away.
"Is this really how you want to settle things?" I ask, my tone dripping with disdain. He smirks, clearly believing he has the upper hand.
"I wouldn’t have it any other way."
In an instant, our fists collide, striking each other with forceful precision. The sound echoes through the gallery, causing gasps and exclamations from the crowd. We trade blows, each hit fueled by the bitter rivalry between us.
Frank looks like he's losing and he motions at his men to join.
As we fight, I catch sight of Jasmine, shaking her headBut before I can worry about her safety, she throws her arms in the air in a ‘what the heck’ motion, and springs into action.
With grace and fluidity, she engages Frank's men, her movements quick and precise. She flows through the space like water, her Wing Chun skills evident in every strike and block.
"Stay out of my way," I growl at Frank, blocking a punch and landing a solid hit to his jaw. He staggers backward, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.
"Or what? You'll sic your little girlfriend on me?" he taunts, nodding toward Jasmine.
