Page 76 of Third Time is the Charm (Passion and Perseverance #3)

The sound of the mallet cracking down halted Tristan dead in his tracks.

It was over. Just like when he had lost her the first time, the feeling of helplessness began to suffocate him.

The drawing wasn’t the only thing that he had of her, but it was certainly the most valuable, the most meaningful to him, and out of anger and spite, Pierce had switched it for the piece that was supposed to be auctioned off today. All to level the playing field.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he quickly spun around coming face-to-face with Sloane. “What happened?”

“Pierce happened. That sonofabitch switched my mother’s portrait in for the piece I wanted to be auctioned today,” Tristan spat, his jaw clenching forcefully.

“Why would he do that?”

“Because I told him that I was going to submit it to this stupid fucking competition that he wants us to do and I told him that, with it, there was no way I could lose.”

“So, he did this just to win?” Sloane asked in disbelief.

“I also might have told him that he could never win because he has no idea what love is…” Tristan trailed off, frustrated at having to admit his role in what had just transpired.

“Shit…” Sloane responded, “let me talk to him.”

“Yeah, whatever. I don’t even give a damn about him right now. I need to find Morgan to find out who the fuck won my drawing and tell him that there’s been a mistake.”

“I’m sure whoever won it will be fine taking the other work,” Sloane tried to calmly reassure him. Tristan just acknowledged his friend with a barely perceptible nod before turning and stalking towards Morgan who was standing off behind the stage.

“Woah, buddy, what happened?” Morgan asked as Tristan approached him, seeing the anger written all over his face.

“Who won the drawing of my mom?” Tristan demanded, not even bothering to answer Morgan’s question.

“Ahh, shit. I should have known Pierce was up to no good. Dammit ,” Morgan replied in frustration. “I don’t know why I trust that ass sometimes.”

“Because he’s a friend, that’s why; he might be a terrible one at the moment, but it’s who he is.

I just need you to point me in the direction of the guy who purchased my drawing.

” Even though Tristan was pissed off as fuck at Pierce, he knew that Pierce had only done this in a darkly entertaining form of retaliation, under the complete assumption that whomever won the piece would be more than understanding enough to switch it with the one that was supposed to be auctioned.

“Yeah, of course. Do you want me to talk to him? Seemed like a nice enough guy. I can explain that there was a mistake,” Morgan kindly offered.

“No. In the off-chance that he decides to be a pain in the ass, I want him to know who I am, and why it’s important to me,” Tristan answered impatiently.

“Alright, well his name is Jack Carter and, let’s see…

” Morgan trailed off as he scanned the crowd just in front of the stage to try and spot their target.

“Alright, there he is,” Morgan nodded towards an older gentleman, garbed in a very expensive suit watching the auctioneer finish up the bidding on the last piece.

“Thanks.” Tristan barely got the word out before he was off again, heading towards the man who had just mistakenly won one of the most important things in his life.

Tristan took a good look at the man who was now the proud owner of his mom’s portrait. Jack Carter. This better be as easy to get back as Pierce was expecting it to be, otherwise he really might have to murder the bastard.

“Excuse me, sir, are you Mr. Carter?” Tristan addressed the older gentleman cordially, with his most people-pleasing smile.

“Yes, yes I am. Who is asking?” the gentleman responded, his eyebrows raising in question.

“I’m with the Gentleman’s Guild, if I could speak to you in private for a moment about the painting that you have just won,” Tristan explained as he motioned towards the gallery exit, where this conversation could take place.

Mr. Carter nodded, looking intrigued, yet pleased to be speaking with someone from the Guild; he followed Tristan through the crowd and out of the gallery where they could speak privately.

“Mr. Carter, I do apologize for any inconvenience, but it seems that there’s been a misunderstanding about the drawing that you just won,” Tristan began his explanation, watching the other man’s face alight with surprise.

“In fact, that piece was not the one that was supposed to be up for auction tonight. There was a miscommunication and there is actually another drawing should that should have been auctioned in its place.”

“I see…” Mr. Carter responded, waiting for Tristan to continue.

“If you would like, I can escort you to the back and show you the other piece that you have actually won,” Tristan offered.

“I see, except I like the drawing that I won; it’s the one that I bid on and I’m not willing to exchange it. I’m sorry about the mishap, but I don’t quite see how it’s my problem.”

You fucker.

Of course, he wasn’t going to make this easy. Fine, Tristan thought, at this point he didn’t care what it took, he was going to get that drawing back.

“I understand. I’m willing to return your money to you, so that you can take home the intended piece at no cost to yourself.”

Money always worked.

“Who are you? I’m sorry, the only contact I know representing the Guild is Morgan Lane. Do you even have the authority to offer something like that?” Mr. Carter responded, suddenly concerned that someone was trying to swindle him out of his prize.

“Believe me, sir, I have every authority,” Tristan said firmly, his facial expression leaving no doubt as to his ability to make this decision.

“I’m sorry, it’s not about the money though. I want this drawing,” Mr. Carter insisted.

“I see,” Tristan replied, coldly.

Looks like we will have to move on to Plan B.

“Well, I’m going to have to talk to the auction company then and see what can be done because unfortunately, I can’t let you leave with that drawing,” Tristan continued, coldly, giving the stubborn man a curt nod before turning back towards the gallery.

“Young man…” Mr. Carter called after him, “one moment.”

Tristan didn’t even bother to respond to him, he just turned and raised an eyebrow, waiting for whatever Jack Carter was about to say next.

“I would be willing to consider giving back the drawing,” he began.

“What do you want?” Tristan interjected bluntly, knowing where this conversation was headed.

“I would be willing to consider it, if I could speak to the artist who drew it for a moment.” Tristan was taken aback for a moment; he was expecting a request for money or for some sort of compensation. Not that this was any better; no one knew their identities, especially not their patrons.

God, because of course he’d just been yelling at Pierce about this, and now, here he was, the one about to break the Guild’s cardinal rule of secrecy.

Then again, what choice did he have? He needed to get this drawing back and if that meant revealing who he was to some fan who would do God-knows-what with the information, then that is what he would do.

“Fine,” Tristan clipped out.

“Wonderful!” the man exclaimed, his whole demeanor changing. “When can I meet him?”

“Right now,” Tristan answered, running his fingers through his hair, completely destroying its styled appearance.

“I don’t understand,” the man replied, perplexed, looking around the hall.

“Mr. Carter,” Tristan began, his voice as cold as ice, “My name is Tristan Black, or as some in this circle prefer to call me, Titian. I am the one who created the drawing that you won and I am the one asking for it back.”

Jack Carter just stared at him for a moment, in complete shock at that turn of events.

“Mr. Black… Titian… it’s a great pleasure to meet you,” he finally responded, extending his hand in greeting.

“This piece… it’s not typical of what I’ve seen of your work in the past few years, but as soon as I saw it tonight…

it’s just so moving. The love and happiness that you’ve managed to capture and portray is just astounding. Truly moving.”

Tristan refused to take his hand or acknowledge the praise of his work. Even though he was the one asking for something, he’d already gone above and beyond all of the rules that were carefully crafted and put into place, all at this man’s request; he would do no more.

“I apologize. Thank you for revealing yourself to speak to me. I was hoping that by purchasing this drawing I would have the opportunity at some point to make my request to speak to the artist, I just didn’t expect that it would happen so soon or in this manner.

I’ve never bid on one before so I wasn’t sure how this all worked. ”

“Mr. Carter, I don’t mean to be rude, so let me explain something to you. That drawing that you have is of my late mother. I need it back. ”

“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry about that. Well…ahh… the reason that I wanted to speak with you is because I have a request,” the old man forged on.

“I’m going to have to stop you right there.

In seven years, I’ve never revealed who I am to any patron, so I hope you appreciate the confidence that I’ve just given you in order to get my mother’s portrait returned to me.

I have broken a code, but I will do no more.

The Guild has not nor will it ever take individual requests for work.

We have a mission, a purpose, and that is not a part of it. ”

“I see, of course. I completely understand, but if you would just hear me out –”

“No, I’ve heard enough,” Tristan responded harshly, the enormity of his recent actions really starting to sink in and the resulting anger seeped out of him.

“You said that if I agreed to speak with you, you would return my drawing. I have done so. Now, it’s your turn to hold up your end of the bargain. ”