Page 294 of Double or Nothing

Come on.

Five twenty-five comes from the telephone.

Harrow offers five fifty.

I wait long enough for several people to turn towards him, then lift my paddle.

Five seventy-five.

Harrow looks around.

He enjoys being seen.

He bids six hundred.

The telephone drops out.

Now it’s Harrow and me.

Not Mercer.

Where the fuck is Mercer?

Bryce catches my eye.

His expression carries the warning. Not over seven.

I bid six twenty-five.

Harrow comes back at six fifty.

His wife whispers to him, but he shakes her off.

Competitive. Irritated. Closer to his edge than he wants the room to know.

I raise my paddle.

Six seven five.

Harrow’s jaw shifts.

The auctioneer turns towards him.

“Seven hundred thousand pounds?”

Harrow hesitates.

His gaze moves to the screen.

This is the first time he has properly looked at the paintings up there.

That tells me everything.

He doesn’t want them, he just wants to defeat me.

The problem is he doesn’t need to.

Seven hundred thousand is where his vanity crashes into the possibility of explaining the purchase tomorrow, and face his wife’s wrath at his recklessness.