Mafia Runner

Chapter Eight

8.

I was drooling over the artwork as I jumped from one piece to the next.

Lucian, on the other hand, tried to look interested but he failed miserably as he shuffled obediently behind me. His handsome features were drawn into a dull stare as he tried to interpret one of the art pieces. "You don't like art, do you?" I accused, my eyes narrowing when his lips twitched.

If he didn't like art, which was obvious from his mannerisms, then it proved he had gotten the tickets especially for me. And I honestly didn't know what to think about that.

The underboss shrugged nonchalantly, his eyes half-lidded as he stared at a sculpture. "It's not that I don't like it, it's just that I either find it attractive to look at or too abstract to enjoy. It's different when you know the person who has created the work. Like yours." I remembered he had kept a few pieces of my artwork when he had rescued my leather binder from my father's wrath. "You're just as good as her. I don't know what makes her so superior."

"You flatter me," I muttered dryly, hardly believing him. Turning back to the oil painting, I studied it in quiet admiration. There was nothing abstract about it, just a vivid sunset over a calm lake. A silhouette of a dog was barely distinguishable on the rickety dock. The scenery and the warm colors made it easy for the viewer to feel at peace.

"Do you like the painting?" Lucian inquired, moving away from the sculpture and looming over my shoulder.

"Yeah," I affirmed, giving the painting once last stare before turning to look up at him. "Do you like it? It isn't as abstract as the other pieces here."

His dark eyes scrutinized the image. It was difficult to tell if he liked it or not, then again, he was always hard to read unless he was smirking. "It's nice," he said simply. 'Nice' obviously meant he didn't really care. He turned casually on his heel, glancing around the occupants in the gallery with a critical eye.

The gallery show was located inside an apartment-like building. The grey walls were dull, the wood floor had scratches on it, and there were no windows. One would assume, from our surroundings, the dress code would include blue jeans and sneakers. But all the guests were dressed in black ties or evening gowns. It was proof enough that the artwork inside the shabby building was more superior then the surroundings.

"What are you looking for?" I whispered, wondering if there was a hit man inside. My body angled slightly behind Lucian, thinking I'd rather not make myself an open target.

Lucian threw an amused look over his shoulder at me.

"I'm trying to find the agent who will sell the work."

I blanched and flushed at the same time. I was not flattered, really, I wasn't. "Unfortunately, Donna Cobalt doesn't sell her work to anyone." I'd love to have her work hanging up in my room, but I reluctantly understood that it would never come to pass.

"What kind of artist doesn't sell their work? I'm sure I could persuade her to sell..." Lucian trailed off as he searched the gallery, his dark eyes scrutinizing the guests. "Everyone has a price."

The man was really thinking of buying the painting for me. Although it was a considerate gesture, I had a general idea how driven Lucian got when he wanted something, no matter how difficult it would be to obtain it. And I didn't want to bring the gallery down in gunfire just because Donna Cobalt refused to sell to an underboss.

"Lucian," I started, taking his elbow gently and pulling him toward the exit. "Please don't use your superpowers. I don't need the painting. It was just nice you brought me here."