“Expensive pieces of art are bought by the rich as an investment. A star auctioneer must be a person the CEO of a hedge fund would find trustworthy at a glance. Someone they could see themselves golfing with on a Sunday.” Henry’s exact words, his excuse for keeping me in a junior position year after year. “Anyway, if he wasn’t an ass, I wouldn’t have started looking at other opportunities.” When I was in a generous mood, I could almost convince myself that Henry Fullerton had done me a favor. “I wouldn’t have started my own business with Diya and Trey.”

Violet’s Valkyrie gaze softened with concern. “Are you sure you want to keep living with them?”

“It’s not a matter of want. It’s a matter of being unable to predict lottery numbers.” I settled into the recliner next to her bed with my bag and teased my laptop from the mess of papers in there. “Believe me, I want to have my own place. And someday soon, I will. And then I’m going to buy Diya and Trey out of the business.”

I wanted to reach a point where I was calling the shots, where I was my own woman, because I wanted to branch out into benefit auctions. I wanted the current business to be strong enough that I could do benefit auctions for free. My dream was to hand a million-dollar check to stroke research one day. I daydreamed about that research helping Violet. I wanted nothing more than to see my grandmother restored to her old self.

Our niche auction house, Ludington’s, handled political fundraisers, focusing exclusively on Hollywood celebrity donors. I didn’t miss stuffy New York estate auctions of boring paintings from dusty financiers whose collections were accumulated strictly as an investment. In LA, we dealt with actors or producers or directors who offered a weekend at their ranch, or art they’d created, or a dress from an Oscar-winning role, down to smaller items like signed scripts. Our auctions were fun. They zinged.

“We’re perfectly positioned to take advantage of Hollywood’s political activism,” I said, straight out of our standard proposal we gave to potential investors. “We’re going to make serious money. Hopefully, soon.”

I shouldn’t have talked about work on my day off. My phone immediately pinged with a text.

Tonight at ten at the hotel?

Violet raised her head from her pillow. “Is that your mother?”

“Mark Selig. Junior congressman. We’re about to sign him as a new client.”

I’m in New York for the day. I texted back. Monday morning at ten at the office?

“Watch out for those.” Violet wiggled her toes. “Men who come to power early tend to develop an awful sense of entitlement.”