Read Online Priceless by Olivia Darling - Free Book Online

said Nat, “there are just a couple of people I should say good night to. Wait for me in the lobby. I’ll be out in less than a minute.”
    In the ladies’ restroom, Carrie grinned at herself in the mirror over the basins. Fifty percent of her thought that this was a stupid idea, but the rest of her was more optimistic. This would be the last chance she would ever have to spend time with Nat Wilde incognito. Her last chance to have a little fun with the man she would be in competition with the following month. And, if she were honest, she was rather enjoying herself.
    Seeing her chance as the blond headed for the ladies’ room, Lizzy crossed the room to catch up with Nat.
    “How’s it going?”
    “A good night, I think,” said Nat. “Busy.”
    “I was wondering whether you wanted to go and get something to eat when this is finished.”
    “Didn’t you get any canapés?” asked Nat.
    “Missed the lot. I was stuck in the corner with Charlie Taylor.” She rolled her eyes. “I thought I might get Chinese when this lot go home. Want to come?”
    “Can’t,” said Nat. “There’s an important client in from the States. I said I’d take her out to dinner.”
    “Oh.” Lizzy tried to hang on to her smile. “The dark-haired one?” she asked, hoping that he would say yes. Shehad seen Nat talking to a dumpy brunette before he’d gotten caught up with the goddess.
    “No. The blond.” He confirmed her worst fears.
    “She’s American?”
    “Yep.” Nat nodded. “She just flew in from New York for the sale. Interested in the blue lady.”
    Lizzy’s heart sank. The blue lady was the most valuable work in the sale. There was no way that Nat could be persuaded not to have dinner with someone who wanted that picture. “Got to keep her in the game. Work, work, work,” he said as he wandered toward the door.
    Lizzy tried hard to hide her disappointment. Though Nat had slipped away with that American woman, the evening was far from over for the rest of his team. There were still a few guests hanging on, drinking the last of the champagne and trying to stretch the reception into a whole night’s worth of entertainment.
    “Good evening, Lizzy.”
    Lizzy put on a smile for the man at her shoulder. “You look very lovely this evening,” said Yasha Suscenko.
    “Thank you,” she replied, though she didn’t feel it. It was as though Nat had taken her sparkle with him when he’d walked through the door. Her dress seemed droopy. Her earrings so obviously worthless.
    “It’s been a busy party,” said Yasha. “So much for the recession.”
    “Yes.” Lizzy nodded. “But then I think that paintings like these always do well in times of recession. People like to put their money into something that has already proved itself over generations. It’s the more contemporary stuff that suffers first.”
    Yasha nodded.
    “But you know that,” said Lizzy, feeling suddenly shy. Her companion was one of London’s most successfuldealers, assembling collections for people who would think nothing of having a Rembrandt hanging in the loo. On their yacht.
    Yasha Suscenko was the owner of the Atalantan Gallery in Mayfair. Born in Moscow, Yasha had left the U.S.S.R. for the United States in the early 1990s, together with his parents. His father was an academic. His mother was an artist. It was she who had encouraged Yasha to make art his passion too. Those early years in the U.S. had been rough. Yasha had barely been able to speak English when he’d entered the American high school system at sixteen, and there had been very little money to spare for extra lessons at home. There was little money to spare for anything. Still, Yasha had graduated and gone on to study art history. He’d worked for several galleries in New York before setting up on his own, working out of his apartment. When the privatization of Russia’s industry had begun in earnest under Putin and the oligarchs had emerged, Yasha had been well positioned to