Page 33 of Wings of Shadow
My heart sinks as I click on the message, my stare quickly scanning the contents. Our latest project, an exclusive art exhibition that we’ve been planning for months, is in jeopardy.
I take a deep breath, trying to quell the rising panic in my chest. This event is a huge opportunity for the gallery, a chance to draw the eyes of the art world and cement our reputation as a premier institution. We simply cannot afford to let it fall through.
Quickly, I compose a response, calling for an emergency meeting with the team. Within minutes, my office is filled with a flurry of activity as my colleagues file in, their faces etched with worry and determination. The air is charged with tension, everyone acutely aware of what’s at stake.
“What’s the latest?” I ask, forcing my voice to remain steady and calm despite the churning in my stomach.
Sophie, my assistant, steps forward. Her usually immaculate appearance is slightly disheveled, reflecting the long hours we’ve all been putting in. She clutches a folder to her chest, knuckles white with tension.
“We’ve been trying to reach our target collector for weeks now,” she says, her voice tight with frustration. “But it’s like he’s a ghost. His people keep stonewalling us at every turn.”
She opens the folder, revealing a dossier with a blurred photograph paperclipped to the top. “He’s known for his incredible collection, perhaps one of the most valuable in Europe. But he’s pathologically confidential about it. No one, and I mean no one, has ever seen it in person.”
Luc, our head of acquisitions, chimes in, his normally jovial face creased with concern. “We’ve tried every avenue we can think of. Formal requests, informal connections, even attempted to arrange ’chance’ meetings at events he was rumored to attend. But it’s like trying to catch smoke with our bare hands.”
“His team is a fortress,” Sophie adds, shaking her head. “We can’t even get past his personal assistant to schedule a simple phone call.”
A headache starts building behind my eyes as I absorb this information. This collector, whoever he is, could make or break our exhibition. And right now, it seems like he’s determined to break it.
“We can’t give up,” I say, my voice carrying a quiet intensity that makes everyone lean in. “I want you to redouble your efforts. Leave no stone unturned, no contact unexplored. Reach out to every connection we have, no matter how tenuous. This exhibition is our chance to put the Galerie Lumière on the map, and I’ll be damned if we let it slip through our fingers because of one reclusive art aficionado.”
“Absolutely!” Luc suddenly exclaims, punching the air with unexpected enthusiasm. The room falls silent, all eyes turning to him in surprise.
Realizing his unusual outburst, Luc clears his throat, a flush creeping up his neck. “Sorry about that,” he mumbles, straightening his tie. “I mean, you can count on us, Clarissa.”
A ripple of laughter breaks through the tension. A smile tugs at my lips, grateful for Luc’s inadvertent lightening of the mood.
Sophie steps forward, her eyes shining with renewed determination. “Luc’s right. We’re all behind you on this, Clarissa. Whatever it takes.”
I look around the room, seeing the same resolve reflected in every face. Despite the enormity of the challenge before us, pride and affection surge for my team. Together, we just might pull this off.
“All right then,” I say, clapping my hands. “Let’s get to work. We have an impossible collector to impress and a gala to save.”
The team nods, their expressions grave but determined. I can see the fire in their eyes, the shared passion for bringing this project to fruition. It’s moments like these that remind me why I love this job, despite the stress and sleepless nights.
“I know we can make this happen,” I say, my gaze sweeping over the room. “Keep me updated on any developments, no matter how small.”
As the meeting wraps up and my colleagues file out of the office, I slump back in my chair. The leather creaks beneath me, a sound that seems to echo the weariness in my bones. Nik trusts me. He believes in my abilities and my vision for the gallery. I can’t let him down.
Just then, my phone buzzes, and I glance down to see my brother’s name flashing on the screen. Despite my exhaustion, warmth and affection wash through me as I answer the call, eager to hear Nik’s voice.
“Hey, Rissy,” he says, his tone warm and familiar. The sound is a balm to my frayed nerves.
“Nik,” I breathe, realizing just how much I’ve missed him. “How’s everything going in Spain?”
I listen as he tells me about the city, about the dragon clans’ eagerness to know him, to learn more of his abilities. I can hear the excitement in his voice, but also a hint of something else. Longing, perhaps?
“But I miss being home,” he admits, his tone softening. “Miss seeing Sam... and uh... the others.”
I can’t help but giggle, grateful as some of the day’s tension melts away. “Oh, I see how it is. You miss Sam and ’the others,’ but what about your favorite little sister?”
Nik’s warm chuckle fills the line. “Favorite little sister? You’re my only little sister.”
“Details, details,” I tease, warming to the task of cheering him up. “I bet you’re living it up in Madrid with your green smoothies and... what’s that weird Brazilian berry you’re obsessed with?”
“Açaí,” Nik reluctantly supplies, and I can all but see him rolling his eyes. “And for your information, I’m no longer in Madrid, but in a smaller town—and finding a good açaí bowl here is harder than negotiating with the Ursa clan.”
“Oh, the tragedy!” I gasp in mock horror. “Shall I organize a care package? ’Emergency Superfoods for the Traveling Wellness Warrior’? Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
