The preview room lights flickered. Once. Twice.
“Lot 404,” the auctioneer’s voice echoed from the practice podium. “Shall we start the bidding?” carmela clutch case
Lena stepped closer to the display case. The velvet of the Carmela Clutch seemed to shift in the dim light, as if breathing. She pressed her palm against the cool glass. Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed. The preview room lights flickered
She adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses and glanced across the crowded preview room. The usual suspects were here: collectors with magnifying loupes, hedge fund wives pretending to yawn at the estimates, and one very nervous man in a tweed jacket who kept touching his collar. That would be Julian Cross, the so-called “Bag Baron” of Belgravia, a man who’d built a fortune on rare leather goods and, Lena suspected, far shadier transactions. “Lot 404,” the auctioneer’s voice echoed from the