Page 19 of A Life Imagined
“You’re an interesting one.”She captured his wrist and pulled back his fingers to peer into his palm.“Two large islands on your lifeline.Things have not been easy,” she murmured.“But your heart line runs deep.”Rayan jerked his hand away, and the woman let out a cackle.“That one’s for free.”
He backed away and followed Elise down the stairs to the street.Mathias was ahead of them, already at the car.
“Did she tell you something?”Elise asked, glancing back up the steps.“She was scary accurate.”
“No,” Rayan said, unnerved by the eerie encounter.“She just wanted money.”
Chapter Seven
When Mathias arrived at the warehouse the following morning, a woman was seated in the chair across from his desk, talking to Elise.He stopped outside the door to the office and studied her through the glass panel.Elise caught his eye and excused herself.
She slipped out of the office and closed the door behind her, speaking to him in a low whisper.“She showed up a few minutes ago and asked to speak with you.I wasn’t sure when you’d be in.”
“I’m never in before ten,” Mathias said, shrugging off his coat and draping it over his arm.
“I know, but she insisted on waiting.She seems important.This could be a big commission.”Elise adjusted her glasses, unable to hide her excitement.“She mentioned she was interested in Asian antiquities.”
Mathias narrowed his eyes.“Did she?”He reached into his pocket, pulled out several bills, and handed them to his appraiser.“Why don’t you head across the road and get us some coffee?”
Once Elise had left, he stepped into the office, and the woman turned to look at him curiously.“Monsieur Beauvais?”
There was no getting around it—she was beautiful.Her angled features and sinewy limbs looked like they belonged on the pages of a fashion magazine.She wore a tight-fitting black dress and Louboutin pumps that she tucked demurely to one side of her chair.Her blond hair was styled to frame her perfectly made-up face, accentuated by large green eyes and too-plump lips, hinting at money meticulously spent.She exuded an opulent glamour, and by the time she lifted her manicured hand to shake his, Mathias had seen right through her.
“That would be me.”He released her hand and moved to hang his coat on one of the hooks along the back wall.
“I hope you don’t mind if we continue in English.My French is not very good, I’m afraid.”
Mathias took a seat at his desk.“I’m sure I can manage,” he replied, switching to English.
The woman’s lips tweaked into a smile.“Impressive.I don’t detect an accent.”
The same couldn’t be said for her.By the sound of it, Mathias guessed she was from the Balkans—maybe Bosnia or Bulgaria, but his money was on Albania.
“Have you spent time abroad?”she asked.
“Some.”
The smile widened.“You’re not what I was expecting, Mr.Beauvais.”
“What were you expecting?”
The woman recrossed her legs, and the hem of her dress slid higher up her smooth thigh.She made no move to adjust it.“An old man with a bow tie who likes to collect junk.You, on the other hand, are quite a treat.”
Their eyes locked, and it was written all over her face—so overt it was almost cheap, despite her polished appearance.
“My associate tells me you’re looking for Asian antiquities,” Mathias said flatly.
“Apologies—how rude of me.My name is Marsela Asllani, and I represent a small group of investors looking to purchase high-value oriental art.They have a particular interest in Javanese Buddhist idols.”
“What a coincidence,” he remarked.“We just received a shipment of earthenware figures from Indonesia.”
“I’d love to see them.”
“Unfortunately, they were damaged in transit.Shipping companies aren’t what they used to be.We’re in the process of lodging an insurance claim so we’re not left entirely out of pocket.”
“That is unfortunate.”The lightness of the woman’s tone had disappeared.
“I’m on good terms with the dealer.If your group is interested in something similar, we can source it directly.”
