Chapter: 15
"After Saccari�s death, his apprentice sold a dozen of his own paintings under his master�s name. When he was finally caught, he admitted that A Moment�s Pause was Saccari�s final painting, and its value skyrocketed. It was stolen from the Louvre in the thirties, returned in the forties, and stolen again in the fifties. After they recovered it the second time, it was sold to a private collector for three million dollars."
"No kidding?" Dorian was impressed by her knowledge. The bidding had already gone up to $80,000, and it was climbing steadily. "Think it�ll go for six figures?"
"Probably. But here�s the real secret: it�s worthless."
"You said it was Saccari�s last�"
"This one�s a fake. You can tell by the flat texture. Saccari was known for mixing foreign matter into his paints�sand, glass, stones, even hair. The real Moment�s Pause is hanging over a fireplace in Spain, still with the family who purchased it from the Louvre."
"Sold!" the auctioneer said. "Four hundred thousand dollars from bidder seven."
"Wow," Dorian said. "Poor bastard."
"You know what they say about suckers, right?"
Dorian grinned. "Bet bidder seven wishes he was sitting next to you."
"Bidder seven wouldn�t stand a chance with me. He probably doesn�t bite until the fourth date."
Heat flared in her eyes, sending another bolt of desire to his cock. But with a frightening realization, Dorian�s blood went cold.
"The Whitfield painting," he said urgently. "Do you know it?"
"Of course. Are you interested?"
"I am if it�s really the Whitfield."
"Oh, that one�s totally authentic. I was relieved to see it, actually. For years it�s been� unaccounted for." Her face clouded, a tiny wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows, her heart rate spiking ever so slightly. It looked as though she had more to say on the matter, but when Dorian pressed, she waved it off.
"Now that�s an interesting piece," she said instead, drawing his attention to an ancient alabaster bust that just went up for bid. "Also authentic. It�s King Darius the First, carved in the late period Egyptian style. Egypt was part of the Achaemenid Empire by then. The piece was probably commissioned by one of the king�s local wives."
The auctioneer opened the bidding at $8,000. "Eight, to the gentleman in front. Do I hear eight five?"
"Nine," his woman called out. She was all business now, the playfulness gone from her voice.
A third and fourth bidder entered the game, his woman keeping pace through a volley of bids. The price climbed to $55,000 before she finally dropped out. In the end, it sold for $72,000 to the Darkmoon witch.
Dorian wasn�t surprised. Witches often collected antiquities, using them to tap into ancient magic. And at the rates they charged for their services, they could certainly afford the bids.
"I�m sorry, love. I hope you aren�t too disappointed."
"Nah. It�s a great piece, but not a stellar example of late period Egyptian art by any means. Certainly not worth seventy grand."
"Someone disagrees with you."
"What did I tell you about suckers?"
"After all your talk of pretense," Dorian said, nudging her knee with his, "could it be you�re an art snob?" JrNovels.com
"No kidding?" Dorian was impressed by her knowledge. The bidding had already gone up to $80,000, and it was climbing steadily. "Think it�ll go for six figures?"
"Probably. But here�s the real secret: it�s worthless."
"You said it was Saccari�s last�"
"This one�s a fake. You can tell by the flat texture. Saccari was known for mixing foreign matter into his paints�sand, glass, stones, even hair. The real Moment�s Pause is hanging over a fireplace in Spain, still with the family who purchased it from the Louvre."
"Sold!" the auctioneer said. "Four hundred thousand dollars from bidder seven."
"Wow," Dorian said. "Poor bastard."
"You know what they say about suckers, right?"
Dorian grinned. "Bet bidder seven wishes he was sitting next to you."
"Bidder seven wouldn�t stand a chance with me. He probably doesn�t bite until the fourth date."
Heat flared in her eyes, sending another bolt of desire to his cock. But with a frightening realization, Dorian�s blood went cold.
"The Whitfield painting," he said urgently. "Do you know it?"
"Of course. Are you interested?"
"I am if it�s really the Whitfield."
"Oh, that one�s totally authentic. I was relieved to see it, actually. For years it�s been� unaccounted for." Her face clouded, a tiny wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows, her heart rate spiking ever so slightly. It looked as though she had more to say on the matter, but when Dorian pressed, she waved it off.
"Now that�s an interesting piece," she said instead, drawing his attention to an ancient alabaster bust that just went up for bid. "Also authentic. It�s King Darius the First, carved in the late period Egyptian style. Egypt was part of the Achaemenid Empire by then. The piece was probably commissioned by one of the king�s local wives."
The auctioneer opened the bidding at $8,000. "Eight, to the gentleman in front. Do I hear eight five?"
"Nine," his woman called out. She was all business now, the playfulness gone from her voice.
A third and fourth bidder entered the game, his woman keeping pace through a volley of bids. The price climbed to $55,000 before she finally dropped out. In the end, it sold for $72,000 to the Darkmoon witch.
Dorian wasn�t surprised. Witches often collected antiquities, using them to tap into ancient magic. And at the rates they charged for their services, they could certainly afford the bids.
"I�m sorry, love. I hope you aren�t too disappointed."
"Nah. It�s a great piece, but not a stellar example of late period Egyptian art by any means. Certainly not worth seventy grand."
"Someone disagrees with you."
"What did I tell you about suckers?"
"After all your talk of pretense," Dorian said, nudging her knee with his, "could it be you�re an art snob?" JrNovels.com
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