Abigail's eyes remained fixed on her phone, her nerves electrified with anticipation. She had been on the edge of her seat, waiting for a call from an old friend who had promised to bring her news about the elusive collection she had been fervently seeking. Finally, the phone danced to life with its ringtone after dragging on for hours.
A delighted squeal escaped Abigail's lips as she swiftly answered the call. "Hello? Brian?" There was a momentary hush as she hung onto every word Brian had to say. Her expression shifted from anxiety to elation, and she replied with a simple, "Okay," before ending the call.
Her heart raced like a thoroughbred as she processed the revelation—Brian had found it. The fourth piece of Adelina Greens' coveted collection was located, and it was slated to go under the hammer in a mere six hours. Without a second thought, Abigail snatched her coat and made her way to the small shop that held the key to her ardent quest.
The shop, though diminutive in size, gave off an air of meticulous maintenance. Its exterior boasted a bright off-white neon sign, "Marson and Sons," that beckoned curious souls to explore within. Abigail stepped inside, her eyes scanning the interior until they landed on an individual who appeared to serve as the shop's receptionist.
With a sense of urgency, she introduced herself. "Hello, my name is Abigail Miller. I have a keen interest in a specific artwork you have here—piece number four of Adelina Greens' collection. Is it possible for me to take a look at it?"
The man behind the reception desk nonchalantly swept his hands across the keyboard. "Ah, you must be here for the auction," he remarked, his voice carrying a hint of familiarity. "It's scheduled to begin in an hour, madam."
Abigail cast a quick glance at her wristwatch, confirming the time. "It's 2:05," she replied. "Yes, I'm well aware of the impending auction. I'm here for that very reason."
The man behind the reception desk gestured toward the seating area opposite them, offering a place for Abigail to bide her time. A grin played on Abigail's lips as she accepted the offer. "Excellent," she replied with enthusiasm.
As the minutes ticked away, the shop saw a modest influx of people. Most of them, however, came in with different inquiries or made unrelated purchases. With just twenty minutes left until the auction's commencement, the only individuals waiting for the coveted Adelina Greens' collection were Abigail, a young bespectacled man, and an elderly lady.
Abigail remained outwardly confident, her trust in her boss's determination to acquire the painting unshakable. She was willing to dip into her savings to secure it if need be. Her focus was unshakable until the jingling of the shop's doorbell heralded a new arrival.
A strikingly handsome and burly man entered the shop, briefly stealing Abigail's attention. He looked older. Their eyes met for a lingering moment before he turned away to address the receptionist. "Hello, my name is Drake," he announced, his voice resonating with a sense of purpose. "I'm here for the auction of Adelina Greens' collection piece."
In an instant, Abigail's heart plummeted, and the confidence that had sustained her began to waver. She couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated by him—not just due to his impressive stature, but also because his gold watch and expensive suit hinted at substantial financial means. Trouble loomed on the horizon, and she braced herself for the challenge, hoping fervently that Drake might not be as resolute as she was in acquiring the painting.
"Relax," She told herself. The painting was exquisite and it was normal for other people to be interested in it as well.
Drake, though more accustomed to jeans and baggy tops, had dressed impeccably for this occasion. His choice of attire was calculated, designed to intimidate rival bidders and discourage them from competing. He needed to secure that painting, for failing Joe Maklin was a prospect he loathed.
Taking a seat next to Abigail, Drake couldn't help but notice her initial curiosity had transformed into a scowl—her disdain for him apparent. A soft chuckle echoed within his thoughts as he decided to play along. "Are you here for the auction too?" he inquired, attempting to break the ice.
Suddenly feeling confident, Abigail retorted with a sly grin, "Sadly for you, I am."
Drake's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I hope you're not trying to intimidate me with that," he teased.
The cheeky twinkle in Abigail's eye remained. "And what if I am?" she challenged.
A challenge was all Drake needed to fuel his determination. His resolve hardened as he met her gaze head-on. "Now I'm even more determined to take that painting home," he declared with a glint of competitiveness in his eye. The stage was set, and the battle for the coveted artwork was about to unfold.
She couldn't help but snort dismissively. "You won't," Abigail retorted with a tone of absolute certainty.
Drake's laughter rumbled, a mix of amusement and playful challenge. He was having a lot of fun. "Then can I take you?" he quipped, his eyes dancing with mischief.
Abigail's face flushed a deep shade of crimson, a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment swirling within her. She stared at him, her irritation palpable.
Drake chuckled again, undeterred by her evident vexation. "How about your number then?" he suggested, his voice lighthearted.
"The only reason I'd give you my number is if you won and I wanted to make a deal with you," Abigail retorted firmly.
Drake saw an opportunity in her response. He reached for a piece of paper from the coffee table in front of them and extracted a pen from his coat. He began to jot down a figure—a sum of money so substantial that Abigail's eyes widened in disbelief. It seemed implausible, bordering on absurdity. Who could possess such wealth? Was he a drug dealer or something equally sinister?
Abigail was left speechless, her face contorting with disbelief as she stared at the exorbitant amount he had written. She felt a sense of humiliation and anger welling up within her.
Taking advantage of her silence, Drake continued with a sly grin. "I'll take your silence as a 'no,' then. So why don't you give me your number now? I have a feeling I won't be needing the painting very soon anyway. We can discuss a price." With a deep chuckle, he stood up and approached a nearby employee to inquire about the location of the restroom.
Abigail seethed with anger and frustration. What did he mean he wouldn't be needing the painting again? Who would purchase an expensive artwork only to dispose of it? Was he some kind of eccentric collector? She frantically scanned the room for him before remembering he had left to use the restroom. She had no intention of waiting. She needed to confront him and give him a piece of her mind.
In the bathroom, Drake stood before the mirror, his phone in hand. He dialled Ryan's number, speaking in hushed tones. "Hey, yeah, I'm at the auction. It's sparsely attended, so I don't think we'll have a problem... Yes, I know, I'll make sure the frame is intact." Just as he was about to continue, the creaking sound of the restroom's iron door opening startled him.
"I've got to go, Ryan. I'll update you later on," Drake hurriedly concluded the call, trying to act nonchalant as he turned to face the sink.
However, his attempt at composure was shattered by the sudden, high-pitched voice that rang out within the men's restroom. "You!" Abigail exclaimed. Her face was red with anger
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you aware this is the men's room?"