Page 13 of His to Possess
"I'm glad I can be here for you," Darrel said softly. "You know I'll always have your back, right?"
I nodded, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "I know. And I'm grateful, truly."
The conversation drifted to lighter topics as we waited for our food. Darrel told me about his latest project at work, and I shared a funny story about a mix-up at the gallery. It was easy and comfortable.
"You know, it's been a while since we've had an assessor as bright and skilled as you," he said at last. I fought the urge to playfully roll my eyes at his words.
"You already know you're dear to my heart. No need to try to weasel your way in with compliments."
Darrel laughed, the melodic sound echoing between the tables. "No. I mean it. I'm not just saying that. But truly, it's been so great to have you around." It was impossible not to smile. As I did, I caught sight of my reflection in the polished silverware. The woman staring back at me looked happy and carefree. But I knew the truth that lurked beneath the surface. And I wondered, not for the first time, how long I could keep up this charade. Would this finally be my way out? Would this pretense that I built up turn into something real?
I tried not to let those panicked thoughts take over again as I redirected my attention to Darrel, shifting in my seat a little bit.
"Honestly, I can't believe the Institute took a chance on me. This truly is my dream job. Everything I could have ever asked for." It was less than I had in Paris, but I was so focused on rebuilding myself that I didn't even want to entertain that thought.
"They'd be crazy not to. They saw a lot of potential in you, rightfully so. You've been an incredible asset to us," Darrel said, seemingly genuinely surprised by my words. I supposed he didn't see me as the risk they considered me. "But tell me, how was that big auction the other night? I heard it was quite the event."
A sudden image of Mr. Compton swamped my thoughts. I couldn't shake the memory of his piercing gaze and the way he commanded the room. With just a few words, he completely threw my world off balance. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about taking his offer, mainly because it would get me closer to the painting, I was so eager to see. Still, the way he looked stayed in my mind, circling around like a storm, and for a second, it made my knees feel weak. I was glad I was already sitting.
What was wrong with me?
I took a sip of wine, gathering my thoughts. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I didn't want to seem overly eager. Even if, truthfully, I was. "It was intense. The competition for some of the pieces was fierce."
Darrel leaned in, intrigued. "Oh? Any interesting characters there?"
I hesitated for a moment, then decided to take the plunge. "Actually, there was one person who stood out. Rex Compton. Do you know anything about him?"
Darrel's eyebrows shot up. "Rex Compton? Oh boy, where do I start?"
"Anywhere," I said, trying to keep my tone casual. Clearly, this was a familiar name to him. I did attempt to search him on the internet, and what I had found so far was interesting, but it was different than hearing about the man from others. "I'm just curious."
Darrel leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile on his face. "Well, Compton is quite the character. He's an avid collector, but very particular. The man's got more money than God and a reputation for always getting what he wants."
I nodded, remembering how effortlessly Compton outbid everyone for that Volkov painting. He didn't even seem to think twice about paying the price for something he wanted. And then there was the watercolor piece. No one else wanted to take the risk, but he did. "I could see that at the auction."
"Oh, I'm sure. But here's where it gets interesting. There are rumors, nothing concrete, mind you, that he's got links to the criminal underground."
My eyes widened. "Really?"
Darrel nodded, lowering his voice. "But here's the thing, there's never been any proof. It seems to be just a rumor. Could be from one of his competitors, who knows? The man's a major benefactor for half the cultural organizations in town. It's like he's playing both sides."
I digested this information, thinking back to the calculated look in Compton's eyes. "What about his personal life?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Darrel chuckled. "Ah, now that's where the real gossip is. He's got quite the reputation as a womanizer. You'll see him at events with a different beauty on his arm each time. But never any real relationships, from what I hear. Just arm candy, you know? Always these stunning, silent types."
I frowned. Something about that description unsettled me, but I supposed that wasn't too surprising. Men who collected artliked it in all forms. Women included. It would've been foolish of me to think that he'd be different. "That's… interesting." My mind raced with memories from that night. Yes, he was filthy rich, but there was also something different about him from all the other men I'd encountered. He looked confident and precise about the way he moved and the way he spoke. Each decision seemed deliberately calculated. "I don't know. He just seemed so… focused. I can't imagine him surrounding himself with vapid arm candy just for show."
Darrel leaned back, considering my words. "Well, you might have a point there. Compton is known for being incredibly shrewd in business. I suppose it makes sense that would carry over into his personal life as well."
"I think there's more to him than meets the eye," I said, almost to myself. "Everything he does seems to have a purpose, even if it's not immediately clear what that is."
Darrel studied me for a moment, a hint of concern in his eyes. "Just be careful, Laurel. Men like Compton are used to getting what they want. And they don't always play fair to get it. I've witnessed it quite a few times."
I forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Don't worry. I'm not planning on getting involved with him in any way. I'm just… intrigued, I suppose. Professionally speaking, of course."
But even as I said the words, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was already caught in his web, whether I liked it or not. The offer to assess his collection loomed in my mind, tempting and terrifying all at once.
"Now, why don't we…"
