The painting stirred something in me— a memory of my time in Africa, the weight of motherhood. I loved it.
Victor adjusted his tie. “We'll start the bidding at a hundred thousand dollars.”
I raised my paddle, my heart racing. But apparently, I wasn't the only one who wanted the piece— more than half the hall.
Excluding Alec.
“One hundred and fifty!” I heard myself say.
“Two hundred!” another called.
“Two hundred and fifty!” someone across the room countered. Then another, and another....
“Five hundred,” I said.
“Five hundred and fifty!” came a cool voice from the far right. I looked and saw him— an Asian man with salt-and-pepper hair and a determined expression.
“Six hundred!” I shot.
“Seven hundred,” the man countered.
My pulse throbbed in my ears. Should I stop now?
“Eight hu
