lers wheeled the golden harp onto the center stage. The instrument gleamed under the
n Paris in 1782 for the Countess de Valois. A masterpiece of classical
diately rais
n to the la
n older art collect
nt two m
aitlin countered wi
arm sharply, her eyes bur
n, do i
is chair. He didn't look at the stage; his
llion d
from one point five million directly to ten mil
h, turning her head to shoo
reath, "He's trying to bait
steady breath. She ra
nt five
tated him. He wanted to see her hands tremble; he wan
reyson barked, rais
used, his gavel h
y million from M
guests began whi
nd? Twenty million f
ng his ex-wi
itlin. She doesn't have
the noise felt distant, like wind
room. The moment she sat down to play a simple Chopin prelude, Greyson had walked in, slammed the fallboard do
ation, all backed by the absol
er paddle on
oint five
his full body toward the crowd, his po
illion d
lent. Even the auctioneer looked
gure for a single classical instrument. It was enoug
excitement, clutching Greyson's arm a
for the crack in her composure, waiting fo
at him across the
The last lingering ember of affection she had eve
r right hand and made a polite, dismiss
paddle face down on the sma
was
son
d himself for an intense, emotional struggle, but Caitl
d his voice, cleari
g once... fifty mil
ad won the bid, but he felt utterly hollow, a
watching crowd, Greyson raised his vo
ed million
seemed to hold its
cialites in the front rows looked uncomfortable. Greyson stood tall, h
d around to sneer at Caitlin, savoring what she bel
d trembled as he rai
s from Mr. Greyson Owen! Go
ed million
It was deep, calm, and carried a heavy authority that
m whipped toward the
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