The next day at work, strong selling continues to drive the prices lower. This time however, it was finally prime to be greedy. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?", I beamed at John.

"I'm way past the thinking stage, ready to smash the buy button", he replied, returning a huge grin of his own.

"Alright boys, shopping spree time", I exclaimed ecstatically, clapping my hands together. The past few days have been painful doing nothing. Now it's the moment to recuperate all our lost profits.

There wasn't enough time for me to head back during lunch for the appointment with Anika, the art curator. Instead, I got Frank's assistance to show her the paintings. Everything went smoothly and to my pleasant surprise, Anika gave the approval.

"I like it. It has a unique standalone style. Even though it isn't exactly fine art level, that can be overlooked by the emotions captured on the canvas. Expressionism art has a way of enrapturing the audiences imaginations of the artist's thought process", comments Anika over the phone.

An art consignment agreement was emailed to me and I forwarded it to my lawyer to run through it. Once the greenlight was given, I signed and emailed it back to Anika. She chose one piece, my favorite one, to make it's foray into the art world.

Work was productive today, we had tons of catching up to do, post the 3 consecutive days of massive sell off. Frank picks me up from work and asks if he could take a leave of abscence for two days as his wife is going into labour. I wished him all the best and told him to take all the time he needs.

I dragged myself to begin packing for Dubai. Halfway through, Anika calls asking for an estimated time of arrival for the art piece chosen for the auction show.

My mind went blank, unable to recall any instructions to do so. Apparently, she has sent a message to deliver it before the gallery closes at 7pm today. Shoot. She was right, I was too caught up in the buying frenzy to notice.

"I'm sorry, I'll send it over shortly", I replied hanging up the phone. Then I realised I have a problem, the painting isn't going to fit well in my 2 seater and I didn't have bubble wrap to protect it.

My phone rings again, probably Anika, since time was running short as it was already 6.30pm.

"Yes, I'm coming in a few minutes", I answered hurriedly.

"I must be pretty good to make you come through a phone call", chuckles Nate.

"Ah, it's you. I don't have time for this now. What do you want? ".

"You didn't return my call. Empowering, isn't it? Having me to submit to you first", he drawls over the phone, "What are you doing?".

"Battling a time crisis", I replied flatly.

"You sound like you've got your panties twisted in a knot. I can help you remove them", he says in a suggestive tone.

"Hold on a second. You are right, you can help me".

"Mmm, Are you wearing your lace thongs?", he answers deviously.

"I'm not talking dirty, idiot. Where are you now and what are you doing?", I asked urgently.

"I'm near your house and thinking about tearing off your panties".

"Great. I mean, the near my house part. Are you in your limo today? ", I asked impatiently, glancing at the ticking clock.

"Yes, if you like we can do it in the backseat. Not our first time", he says lustfully.

"I need you to grab tons of bubble wrap and foam to my house. Like, immediately", I instructed.

"Whoa, what kind of new fetish is this?", replies Nate sounding amused.

"I don't have time to explain Nate, its urgent. Please?".

"Ok fine. Just so you know, all this talk is turning me on", he chuckles before hanging up the phone.

I started by laying the art piece on the floor. He arrives at my doorstep in 15 minutes with bags filled with bubble wrap and card box with foam boards.

I grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him in, "You have no idea, how happy am I to see you right now".

"Eager one aren't you", he grins broadly.

"No time for bantering, I need your help to wrap this up now, load it into your limo and drop me at a gallery", I motioned for him to get to work.

"What's all these for?", he asks curiously.

"I'll explain in the car", I replied, taking the bubble wrap out.

"I thought we were going to have kinky sex with the stuff you asked me to buy", he feigned disappointment.

I shot him a threatening glare and hand him a pair of scissors and tape. Nate was compliant thereafter. We finish wrapping quickly and proceed to bring the painting down. He looked over, watching me carry the large canvas in my heels.

He sighed and carried it instead, "You and your high heels", he says while shaking his head.

I grinned, "Thanks Nate". He places the canvas carefully in the limo and we climb into the backseat.

"Care to tell me what this is about now? ", his hand gesturing to the wrapped up canvas.

"Its for an art auction tomorrow. I think that's the gallery, can you get your driver to pull over? ".

"Tony, stop the car", he instructs.

I open the door and step out in a hurry, Anika was already waiting at the entrance, tapping the sole of her heels impatiently on the pavement. 

"I'm sorry, I took longer than expected", I apologized profusely. The art piece was brought inside and I could finally catch a breather.
"Thanks Nate. You've been helpful", I thanked him sincerely.

"I have ideas in mind, on how you can express your gratitude", he answers slyly.

"Can you stop sexualizing everything?", I pursed my lips in annoyance.

"You're the one with the dirty mind. I don't recall inciting sex in my last sentence", he replies innocently. "Tell you what, you can buy me a drink. How about that?".

"Deal. Not today though, I've got packing to do", I replied.

"Where are you going?", he asked curiously.

"Dubai".

"When and for how long? ", he continues his interrogation.

"Leaving on Saturday back next Wednesday".

"I'll have a quick drink in your place and you can pack", he answers. Noticing the wary expression on my face, he says, "I won't get in your way, I promise. Besides, what can you do if I follow you up anyway".

"I can dial 911", I replied drily.

"You wouldn't. Get in. You've got packing to do", he orders, motioning me to get into the car.

Back in my apartment, I opened a bottle of whiskey and poured us our drink.

"Since when did you collect art? I don't remember seeing that painting when I used to stay over", Nate asked.

"I don't. It was painted recently".

A smug look appears on his face as he replies, "So you painted it after we ended. It looks doleful. Were you that in love with me? ".

"Don't flatter yourself", I scoffed, taking a swig of my whiskey. As if I'll ever admit. Over my dead body. "Enough about me, what happened to you and Izabela anyway? ".

"You're going to give me shit about the reason".

"Try me".

"She wanted more than I can give", he replied, shrugging his shoulders casually.

"You and your commitment issues", I smirked.

"What can I say? I'm a man in demand", he shrugs, as if stating the obvious.

I choked on my drink, "You are not in demand. You are sleazy and persistent. For strange reasons that defy logic, that persona works for you".

Nate laughs heartily, "I can't deny that".

I unzipped my luggage bag and resumed my packing. He picks up the wedding invitation card on my jewellery display case and opens it.

"Who are you going to the wedding with? Is Jake going?", he asks, placing the card down and watches me pack.

"Yes", I replied, choosing between a few dresses.

"Is this why you're packing Agent Provocateur?", he says, narrowing his eyes whilst dangling a lace bra, "Are these new? I haven't seen them before".

"Yes, in case you've forgotten, you ripped off quite a few items", I replied wryly.

He smiled, "I remember, of course I do. If you put these on now I can tear them to pieces all over again".

"No thanks", I snatched them away from him and put them back to safety in the luggage, where they belong.

"On a serious note, are you going to sleep with him?", he asks in a solemn tone.

"Last I remember, I have zero obligations to answer you anything. Infact, I plead the 5th. The right to remain silent", I quipped.

"For closure sake, why don't we do it one last time. Let me refresh your memory and you might not even want Jake anymore", he replies mischievously.

I laughed, "Nice try Nate, you're delusional. Maybe you just can't accept the fact that I'm no longer under your spell. Your need for control and to possess is confusing you. You treat women like property".

"I've been nothing but romantic to you recently. The flowers, your bubble wrap crisis. Especially the flowers, it was out of my comfort zone and you know that", he replied with a proud grin.

I laughed, "That's considered romantic? ".

"For a man of my standards, yes", he replies pointedly.

My lips curved upwards slightly. There may be some truth to that, I could not deny.

"We are in a good place now, as friends. With no benefits. My emotional state is peaceful. You are a man who needs control, and so do I. I lost that control when I was with you. And I don't want to be that girl again", I replied firmly.

"I thought you liked me taking control. You definitely had no qualms about it in bed".

"I meant emotionally, idiot", I sighed exasperated.

"I can't help it, if you were madly in love with me", he grins triumphantly.

"Ah, but I no longer feel the same for you. Je ne suis plus amoureux de toi (I'm no longer in love with you)", I replied immediately. Finally, the French phrases that I've learnt were coming in handy.

He chuckled, raising an eyebrow, "Since when do you speak French".

"Trust me, you wouldn't want to know", I replied flatly, folding a few dresses neatly into the luggage.

"I'm glad we can open up about the past", he says, pouring himself another drink.

"Me too. It feels lighter honestly", I agreed.

"Maybe we started off the wrong foot, too many games in the beginning", Nate continues. "Why don't we try again, you cant deny that there is still something lingering around", he says looking at me.

"I can't. I'm not fit for this "no strings attached" thing", I replied pointedly. As if getting my heart burnt once wasn't enough.

"What if it's different this time? Maybe I want a commitment".

I laughed, "Please, I know you better. Besides, I'm already over you. Anyway, I have to carry on with my packing. You know how slow I can be when it comes to this".

"What time are you leaving on Saturday? ".

"Late afternoon", I replied, walking him to the door.

"Alright. So can we at least hug goodbye since you'll be gone for the whole week", he asks, in that suspicious innocent tone of voice.

"No ass grabbing this time", I warned.

"Promise", Nate replies, grabbing hold of my waist and draws me close for a fierce hug. "Damn I miss your tiny waist. Bet you miss my shoulders", he smirked.

"Shut up. Now go", I laughed, smacking his shoulder.

"Bye lover", he says, not before groping my bottom.

"Hey! You promised not to", I exclaimed.

"I broke it. So what? ", he laughed and then he left. I closed the door shut and caught a reflection of myself with my lips curving upwards in what appears to be a smile. Bringing my fingers to the sides of my lips, I pulled it downwards, erasing the unwanted smile.

I continued my packing till late at night. The trip to Dubai is precisely what I need, a detox from Nate.

I went to work early on Friday. There was ground to cover before leaving to Dubai. Markets were recovering and I had plenty of buying to do.

By afternoon, the markets continued it's steady rise and our portfolios were recovering from the stocks that we snapped up on a bargain.

Thomas sinks into his chair in relief and John is visibly pumped up from the rebound.

"Can you smeellllll what the bull is cooking?", roars John in his sub par The Rock persona.

I erupt into laughter. This is the beauty of the markets, one day it's the apocalypse and the next day you're on top of the world.

"To be honest, I'm reluctant to go away now. The bull is revving up it's engine", I admitted, staring at the screen longingly.

"Me too", agrees John.

"You guys are being workaholics. The markets will be here when both of you are back. I'll man the desk. Go forth with a peace of mind", says Thomas, thumping his chest proudly.

"Thanks Thomas. Anything we can get you from Dubai?", asks John.

"Don't bother, he'll ask for an exotic belly dancer", I smirked.

"Brooke knows me best", Thomas grins, winking at me.

Market closed on a strong note, the perfect ending to celebrate the weekend. I called Brandon in to delegate specific tasks to him during my absence.

"Aye boss. I'll update you hourly when you're gone", Brandon smiles reassuringly.

"Thanks Brandon. You're the best", I replied, ruffling his hair.

Jake calls while I was on the way back, "Ready for your first art auction?", he greets merrily.

"Nervous. What if no one bids for it? ", I laughed.

"I won't let that happen. Trust me. I'll be there slightly late, wrapping up a meeting. I'll see you there", he replies in a soothing voice.

I arrived at the gallery around 7pm. Technically I wasn't required to attend, however I wanted to check out the other artworks for sale.

There was a cocktail party at the reception area, hence I grabbed a drink before the auction begins. I was surprised to see John mingling with two strangers.

"What are you doing here? ", I asked, tapping lightly on his shoulders. John excused himself and replied with a sheepish grin, "Sarah asked me to come and help with the bids, to prevent any potential flop. Jake informed Sarah about the event. She's unable to make it due to her grandfather's 90th birthday".

I chuckled fondly at Sarah's typical gesture, at the image of her handing John the instructions.

"Thanks for playing along to her requests, though I'd really like to see if there are any genuine interests not inflated friendly bids. I’m really touched though, I know she has my best interest at heart", I smiled.

John hesitates for awhile and finally complies. I knew he would understand. As we were about to be ushered into the main hall, Jake arrives with Helena beside him. His face lights up as he walks towards me.

"You're looking at the next Van Gogh", Jake mentions to Helena with a grin. She offers a weak smile and says nothing.

"Stop. You're exaggerating", I laughed.

"Let's enter", he says. We sat behind, with Jake in the middle. I made him promise not to pity bid when it came to my turn.

The auction begins with a stunning hyper realism piece of painting. The details were precise and the brush strokes were extremely fine. It was an artwork depicting the Manhattan skyline from Queens including the whole 59th street bridge at sunset. It resembled a photograph with all the intricate details embedded.

The bid starts at 20 thousand, bidding paddles were raised almost immediately.

"40 thousand going once, 42 thousand to the gentleman in front", goes the auctioneer in an upbeat voice

I found myself raising my hand, "44 thousand", I offered.

"44 thousand to the lady at the back, 46 thousand anyone? ".

Another person raised the paddle for 46 thousand. I offered 48 thousand but the crowd wasn’t going to give it to me easily.

Jake looked amused at my frustration as the bidding war went to 78 thousand. He leans over, about to whisper something before I stop him from distracting me.

At this point, I wasn't sure if I am madly in love with the painting or I plainly wanted to win.

"82 thousand", I shot my hand up as a counter offer.

"82 thousand. Going once going twice. Sold", announces the auctioneer.

A rush of triumph engulfed me. It’ll fit gorgeously in the living room.

"You hate to lose, don't you? Are you here to buy or to sell art? ", whispers Jake chuckling softly.

"Guilty as charged", I grinned, "I hate to lose. Can't help it, that piece will be perfect on top of the fireplace".

"It's a good one. You have a keen eye", he smiles in agreement.

I bidded for another piece by the same artist, as a gift to Sarah for her new weekend pad with John.

Mine was the final piece, since I was slotted in at the last minute. It was a huge contrast compared to the previous themes for sale. The bidding starts at one of the lowest bid, presumably from my lack of experience or zero track record. I didn't mind, it was never about the money anyway. I was planning to donate all the proceeds.

Regardless, I didn't want it to be a zero bid disaster either. The room was silent for a few seconds and the feeling of dread was creeping up on me.

6 thousand and the first paddle shot up.

"6 thousand. Anymore bids? 7 thousand to the lady in red", goes the auctioneer.

Soon the prices were bidding at 20 thousand, it was between the lady in red and another young man.

"28 thousand", it was the lady in red bidding.

"30 thousand", the young man counters. Jake was about to raise his paddle when I stopped him. He chuckles and whispers, "Why won't you let me bid for it? ".

"Because it's biased", I replied softly in anticipation for the final bid.

The price continues to edge up to 45 thousand. The young man raised to 50k. I was getting curious to know who he was.

"50 thousand going once , going twice. Sold", and it ended.

I was relieved that it was over and delighted that there was someone out there that appreciated my work.

"Congratulations", says Jake, giving me a hug.

"Thanks for the experience", I replied, thrilled at having my first piece of artwork sold.

We proceed outside and I authorized the payment for my purchases. Before leaving, I excused myself to the ladies.

Helena trails behind me, locking the door as she enters, isolating us alone in the washroom. Her eyes were glowing with malevolence, as she walks towards me.

If Helena's intention was to start a catfight, she might want to think twice. Instead, she glides past me and leaned over to the mirror, reapplying her already perfect lipstick

Smoothening the imaginary creases on her dress, she says in disdain, "Guys like Jake don’t belong to girls like you. Half breed immigrants, country bumpkins", waving her lipstick like an evil glowing wand as if to make a statement.

"Guys like him belong to me. A woman of class. Now you may think that you've scored the boyfriend lottery. I don’t blame you, a few million dollars, what more billions, can drop plenty of skirts. Let me save you from an inevitable heartbreak. Here is a blank bankers cheque for 500 thousand. All you have to do is take it, leave him alone and cash it out. I’m sure half a million will do wonders for you. Maybe you can even finally afford your own place in Brownsville, Brooklyn", she sneers, dangling the cheque in front of me.

I was at loss for words, mainly because her offer was ludicrous beyond belief.

Helena notices my silence, mistaking it for awe, "I understand, this is probably the closest you’ve ever been to this type of money", she smile emphatically.

Then I couldn't anymore. Good bye Audrey Hepburn. I burst out laughing.

"Half breed country bumpkin?