Isabella's pov

I frowned slightly, clearing my throat as I spoke, "Attention everybody!"

I had a microphone clipped onto my plaid red and blue shirt, so I didn't need to shout even when there was noise, but I still liked everyone to focus on me. It was one of the essential things I learned while training to be a curator.

I waited a bit as the room got quieter, eyes scanning the crowd of seated individuals. "Ladies and gentlemen, our next item is lot number three: 'The Temptation of Eve,' a rare 16th century etching by Albrecht Dürer," I began, smiling slightly at the interested looks on their faces.

My gaze rested on the man seated in the middle seat in the front row, and for once, I fought nervousness. Adrian Blackwood had a way of doing that to me with his intense stare, and the way he focused on me up on this podium was unnerving.

I forced myself to look away from his stormy grey eyes before fully absorbing them. I could see Tyson wheeling the artwork to the spot beside me where all could see it. I had stared at that painting long enough to memorize everything about it.

When I imagined working for Adrian, I never thought his artwork would be intriguing, but I was wrong. This one was an etching masterpiece, depicting Eve standing before the Tree of Knowledge, her figure sinuous and expressive. The serpent was coiled around the tree trunk, its body rendered in precise, delicate lines.

On the wall behind me, I knew a screen showed brief details of the etchings and their significance, so I didn't need to explain anything. Also, the display would change to show lot information, bidding numbers, and current prices once staking began.

"Bidding will begin at 300,000 dollars," I announced, and immediately murmurs ranked through the crowd.

Yes, it was a high price, but even these people knew it was worth it. If there was anything I learned about art collectors, it was that raising the price adds to the value, and no matter what, somebody would always stake a higher price.

The talking continued, getting even louder as people contemplated the price. I grinned, placing my hands on my hips. I wondered what they'd come up with.

I didn't expect what someone said, though.

"I want to question the authenticity of 'The Temptation of Eve,'" a middle-aged woman said. From her looks, I could tell that she was filthy rich. She had this calm assurance in her eyes, which would make anyone cringe at that claim.

But I wasn't just anyone, and I had done my research. This was not a time to be easily swayed. "Please may I know your name, madam?"

"I'm Mrs. Natasha Petrov," she replied. The room was silent around us as if everyone wanted to know if it was fake. If it were, the whole auction would be ruined, and so would my career.

"Why, Mrs. Petrov, do you make such claim?" I asked.

"The paper quality and etching seem inconsistent with Dürer's style," she replied.

She made a massive claim for someone who could only see the artwork from the clear projection screen. She seemed to be a long-time art collector with a trained eye.

I nodded. "We understand your concerns. Tyson, would you please explain the provenance?" I asked, turning to him.

"Certainly," he said, stepping forward. "We conducted various examinations on the artwork..." He handed a folder to another team member, Russell, our art administrator, standing just below the podium. She passed it across to Mrs. Petrov in record time.

As she examined the documents, Tyson continued, "The watermark matched Dürer's distinctive bishop's mitres design, and the ink analysis reveals a unique blend of iron gall and gum Arabic, as is seen in 16th century printing practice."

"Oh," she said. "It's true then, it's authentic. I apologize for my doubts; your expertise is impressive." She handed the folder back to Russell. "I also want to bid 500,000 dollars for it."

The crowd erupted into applause, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. My price wasn't too high after all.

"I counter that," another man said, rising. "I bid 700,000 dollars."

I smiled. I guess Mrs. Petrov did us some good with her doubts.

The bidding continued until Mrs. Petrov landed at a price of a million dollars, and all the people countering her fell silent. It was too much for the artwork. But of course, I wouldn't say so.

As Tyson wheeled it off the podium, I glanced at Adrian. He had a look of appraisal that made my heart warm and fuzzy. What was going on with me?

"The final item will be auctioned off in five minutes' time," I announced. "Remember, it's the grand finale, an artwork you'd never expect to see. Anticipate."

With that, I went backstage, needing a minute away from the stares of those people.

"Good job out there," Elena said, notepad in hand. She was Adrian's assistant, making me as nervous as he was. There was something in her feline eyes, something that made me feel like prey.

I shook my head; that was crazy thinking. I placed a confident smile on my face instead. "This auction is in safe hands."

"Bet you're glad it's almost over," Kathy came to stand beside me. Now, this was someone I knew and could trust. I cast her a knowing look.

"Can't wait to get something to eat."

"Here it is," Kathy said, lifting off the cloth covering the last artwork. What I was about to say froze in my throat as I stared at it.

"Luna's Requiem," I muttered, suddenly afraid. Adrian's words echoed in my head.

"That's not to be auctioned. Don't ever touch it again."

My heart beat erratically. I had put it aside from the artwork we were working with. What was it doing here now?

"It's show time," Elena's voice broke through my frantic thoughts.

"No," I wanted to say. "There's been a mistake, we need to replace the work." But even I knew it was too late to do that.

I couldn't sell it either; Adrian would not take it lightly with me. He had the power to ruin my career...

Soon enough, I was standing before the crowd again, but my confidence was chipped this time. I knew what to do: an outrageously high price would scare any bidders away. I would deal with the consequences later.

"Finally, the big reveal," I began. "'Luna's Requiem,' an extraordinary 18th century oil painting attributed to the mysterious artist, Alessandro de Rosa."

Tyson unveiled it, and a hush fell upon the room, the artwork's haunting beauty and eerie aura commanding attention. They all looked at it in awe, but one person looked like he was minutes away from tearing me apart.

Then I glanced at him, and the expression was gone, replaced by a controlled look. Damn, Adrian was going to ruin me.

"Bidding will start at 1.5 million dollars," I announced. Some people gasped, others whispered, annoyed. It looked like exploitation, I knew, but at least no one was bidding.

"I am Alex Chen," a man rose. "I offer 1.6 million dollars."

My jaw dropped. Was he crazy? It was just a piece of art; why would he dare bid for it? But of course, I couldn't say so.

"Oh... okay," I hesitated. This was so not happening. I had to get myself together. "Any others?"

To my immense shock, Adrian himself rose. "1.8 million dollars."

Was it that serious that he was willing to bid for his artwork? "Any others?" I asked, unable to stop my voice from shaking now.

"2 million," Mr. Chen said.

"This is illegal!" someone shouted from the crowd, and murmurs of approval followed.

Adrian ignored all that, his fists clenched as he glared at me. "2.3 million."

"2.5 million," Mr. Chen replied.

I shook my head slightly. This was terrible, different from what I planned at all.

"3 million," Adrian said after a short pause.

I gasped, glancing at Mr. Chen. Would he still bid? I sure hoped not; it was getting too much. He flashed me a grin.

"3.5..."

I felt a presence beside me and turned to see Elena standing there. "Adrian orders you take the artwork off stage," she whispered into my ear. "He doesn't wish to sell."

I nodded, resigned. I had to find a way to salvage the situation now.

"The stakes are too high for this artwork; it will be replaced by another."

I caught snippets of disapproval from the people. They were enjoying the bidding, wondering how high each person would bid. Well, too bad for them; my job was at stake now.

"We reconvene in five minutes," I said, and Tyson accompanied me backstage with artwork in hand. I closed the curtain, but not before catching the fiercely determined look on Mr. Chen's face.

"I have a feeling something is terribly wrong," Tyson muttered. I ignored him, running my fingertips across the artwork in wonder. What was so special about it that Adrian wanted to keep it so bad, and Mr. Chen tried to have it?

I felt a ridge on the painting frame and turned on the torchlight in my phone. On a small intricate frame was an inscription:

"In umbra, lux. Familia de Luca."

"No way," I gasped.