Page 62 of Vienna Bargain

She’d showered—the damned collar was still on, as they’d both seemingly forgotten about it, but when she’d come out of the shower, her suitcase had been waiting. She’d been able to put on her own clothes, and do her makeup, though over half of it was missing, probably confiscated back in Vienna.

She’d dressed in a loose black skirt, royal blue boat-neck blouse, and had a Hermes silk scarf wrapped around her neck, obscuring the collar, which she’d twisted so the lock was at the back, hidden under her hair.

Now she and Alexander were enjoying the sunset over Lake Beleu as they waited for the meal.

A small platter of what appeared to be variants of cabbage rolls and polenta cakes was set down in the middle of the table. The woman served them, but when she asked what else she could bring them, Alexander waved her away.

As the patio doors closed behind everyone, he looked up.

“Insurance.”

“Yes. Technically, I’m a consultant, but art insurance, particularly recovery, is what people hire me for.”

“I’ve been trying to understand why you would tell this lie. This particular lie.”

“And it’s so outrageous it must be the truth?” She dipped her cabbage roll into what looked like thin sour cream and took a bite. It was good, if heavy on the meat and lacking in vegetables besides the cabbage itself.

“You broke into my house, risked prison, because you’re an insurance…” He shook his head. “My company handles its own insurance. We insure the packages we deliver.”

“But what about what’s inside the packages?”

“We offer insurance for goods we transport.”

“Up to what dollar limit? A million euro? Two?”

“I don’t know.” He sat back, looking irked.

“I do. Two million euro for individual packages, and the contents must be declared.”

“You are working for someone who insured something that was…lost? You became a submissive. My submissive, to try and locate a missing package.”

“I’m very dedicated to my job,” she said cheerfully.

“But why… But if that was the case why would you…” His not quite stammer was back and she loved that he wasn’t hiding it from her.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at her. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Immensely.”

“Who do you work for?” Alexander asked rather desperately. “Who hires you as a consultant?”

“My biggest client is Beijing Guardian International Auctions.”

Alexander sat up slowly, and she saw the moment that he started to tense as he worked through the possibilities.

China was a massive country with a growing appetite for fine art and collectibles. Several years ago, Beijing Guardian had surpassed the U.S. based Heritage Auctions as one of the largest auction houses in the world, with a reputation that put it on par with more established companies like Sotheby’s and Christie’s.

And like Sotheby’s, Beijing Guardian was a worldwide operation…and more than just an auction house. They offered art and antiquities storage, appraisal, restoration…and insurance.

“You’re searching for a piece of art my company lost…” Alexander frowned at the same time she shook her head.

“No,” Alena clarified. “If that was all that was happening, there would have been no need for them to involve me. I only accept assignments that are challenging. And, quite frankly, lucrative. Lost during transport isn’t a challenge.”

“You are the one they call…”

“…when things go very, very wrong.”

Alexander stared at her.

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