"Are you aware you're a jerk?" Abigail retorted with a fiery glare. "Just because you have money doesn't mean you get to say and do what every you want!."
Drake stood there, dumbfounded by the sudden confrontation. Abigail seemed utterly unfazed by her intrusion into the men's bathroom. He attempted to maintain a modicum of politeness. "Miss," he began, only to be promptly corrected by Abigail.
"Abigail," she clarified sharply.
He stared at her. "Miss Abigail. With all due respect, I don't care about you or your life."
Abigail continued her tirade, her voice rising with indignation. "You'd better start caring because, after this, you'll be begging for my number. I'll be the one leaving with my painting, not your obnoxious self!"
She picked up a stray roll of tissue from the edge of the sink close to her and flung it at him, narrowly missing Drake.
He leaned over to dodge, staring at the crazy woman in bewilderment. What on earth? he thought.
Without hesitation, she grabbed the mop from a nearby corner and dashed out of the restroom. In her wake, she wedged the mop handle between the door handle, effectively locking Drake inside.
"Hey, what are you doing? Let me out!" Drake's voice echoed in exasperation from within the restroom.
Abigail couldn't help but smile mischievously as she seized the opportunity for a spiteful comeback. "With all due respect, I don't care."
"You're going to regret this. I promise you" Drake growled. Abigail ignore him, she was going to do anything to get what she wanted, including playing unfairly if she had to.
Abigail hurried back to her seat at the auction. The room settled into a tense silence. Besides the man she had locked in the restroom and the elderly lady, there were a few workers present. I guess not a lot of people in this area liked art.
The auctioneer entered the room, accompanied by two assistants carrying the precious painting, her ticket to the life she wanted, shrouded in a veil. They placed it prominently at the front and center of the room.
The auction room buzzed with anticipation as the veil was dramatically removed, revealing Adelina Green's fourth masterpiece. Abigail stood there, mesmerized, her eyes fixed on the painting. It was a breathtaking landscape, depicting a lush forest beneath a vibrant blue sky, with shades of green that seemed to dance with life. What struck her most was the artist's use of an unconventional brushstroke style—a blend of tradition in a contemporary setting. Abigail's heart raced as she confirmed that this was indeed the genuine fourth piece she had been searching for.
As the auctioneer's voice filled the room, Abigail's gaze swept across the assembled bidders. To her right sat the bespectacled man, his countenance marked by uncertainty, perhaps contemplating his next move.
Her thoughts briefly turned to the handsome bidder she had locked in the bathroom, the memory of the number he had hastily scribbled on the paper still fresh in her mind. The sum he had written down had seemed almost preposterous, especially for a painting that wasn't the Mona Lisa.
The auctioneer's voice maintained a steady rhythm, leading the room through the sounds and cries of biddings. The elderly lady to Abigail's left raised her paddle, igniting the bidding war. Numbers flew back and forth, climbing rapidly and dizzyingly. Abigail could feel her heart pounding in her chest as the price slowly rose.
Beside her, the man hesitated, his gaze darting nervously between the auctioneer and Abigail. She seized the moment, subtly slipping a folded note onto his lap. His eyes widened as he unfolded it, revealing a figure that left him stunned. Abigail had employed the same tactic Drake had used on her, and it worked like a charm.
Panic washed over the man's face, and he faltered for a moment too long. The auctioneer's gavel resounded through the room, and a profound silence descended.
"Sold!" the auctioneer declared triumphantly, breaking the tension. All eyes turned to Abigail as she raised her paddle with a victorious smile. She had secured the painting, not through a deep wallet, but through clever strategy and nerves of steel.
Beside her, the defeated man slumped in his chair, accepting the bitter taste of defeat. Abigail's unwavering determination had won the day, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of exhilaration. The painting was now hers, and no obstacle had proven impossible.
Someone had finally heard Drakes shouts and had freed him from the restroom. He rushed over to the auction room, adjusting his tie and suit as he ran. He pushed open the door, scanning the room, searching for any sign of that crazy woman, Abigail.
Drake's sharp eyes locked onto Abigail just as she began making her way towards the exit, cradling the prized painting protectively in her arms. Ignoring the curious glances of people who were startled by his appearance.
His voice, oozing with confidence, carried across the room, cutting through the ambient murmurs and whispers. "Leaving so soon, Abigail?"
Startled, Abigail turned to him, "Oh, you've escaped," she quipped, her tone curt and guarded, her grip on the painting tightening involuntarily.
Drake leaned in slightly, his voice taking on a low and conspiratorial tone. "I told you I wanted that painting."
Abigail's brow furrowed as she regarded him with scepticism. "And I told you it's not for sale. Besides, I won it fair and square."
A sly grin played on Drake's lips as he sized her up. "Fair and square? You locked me in the bathroom! I'd say it was more clever and cunning. I must admit, Abigail, you've got quite the knack for outmanoeuvring."
She rolled her eyes, her irritation evident. "Yeah, sure."
Drake casually pulled out his phone, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Give me your number."
Abigail arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Why?"
Drake's playful response came without missing a beat. "Why else? Don't tell me you think I'm in love with you."
Abigail couldn't help but chuckle at his audacity, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're shameless, aren't you? No, you can't have my number. I'm not parting with this painting anytime soon."
With that, Abigail turned on her heel and walked resolutely toward the exit, leaving Drake standing amidst the intrigued onlookers in the room. As she disappeared through the doors, Drake couldn't help but admire her determination. Something that was bound to get her killed