El Coleccionista の小説・ストーリー

Cole said, a hard light dancing into his eyes, he'd always faced this problem, once somebody knows what he is, they just forget who he is. "Noted" "I'm here to make a business deal" Cole said, his fingers rubbing the day old dark stuble on his face. It took every fiber of Amy's effort not to dwell on his lips. She looked straight into his eyes, and made sure hers didn't stray anywhere else. "Business deal?" Amy hoped her voice didn't come out as wobbly as she felt. "I contacted, I mean Mira, that's my secretary's name, contacted any agency, and your name happen to be one of the best Antique sellers who could really find anything in the world" Cole made his statement.

“Final to who?” Marcini hesitated. A mistake. Another soft click echoed as I pulled the hammer back again. His eyes bulged, panic forcing his tongue loose. “Moretti! It was Moretti’s! His collection...cars, prototypes, guns fitted inside. He’s been waiting for months....months!” The name dropped like acid. Dante’s jaw flexed, his teeth grinding audibly. “Carlos Moretti.” Nico gave a low whistle, amusement dripping from him like smoke. “Well, isn’t that poetic. Italy’s golden collector unknowingly being spoon-fed by a Russian dog.”

she typed. “That’s what I’m digging into. But from the surface data—they’re not the type who negotiate over tea. The Ferrantellis have a particular reputation: this family doesn’t acquire art because they love beauty. They collect it because they know exactly how much ransom they can squeeze from previous owners desperate enough to want it back.” Elena weighed that in the stillness of her room. “Send the full file in two days,” she replied. “Already sent it three minutes ago, before you asked. Check your encrypted folder.”

Time: 10 PM Dress code: Formal(Tuxedos only) On the bottom was another P.S. - Come alone, or she dies. The Obsidian Estate. I knew that name. Everyone in the underworld knew that name. It belonged to a man, a faceless crime lord called The collector. No one knew his real name. The government had been trying to catch him for years, but he was like smoke. Always one step ahead. "This is a trap," Levi said unnecessarily. “You and the collector have bad blood after that failed deal so why would you get an invite if it isn't a trap?”

"Of course I am. I spent months on that acquisition." "Then let me make it up to you." He pulled out his phone and showed her several images. "This is the collection I mentioned. Private collector in London, looking to sell quietly. Twelve pieces....three Monets, two Renoirs, a Degas, several others. Similar quality to Rousseau, possibly better provenance." Lyra's breath caught. The pieces were stunning. "Why hasn't this been made public?" "The collector wants discretion. Family situation....divorce, asset division, that sort of thing. He's only showing the collection to a select few galleries." Julian's eyes met hers. "I can get you a viewing. Next week, if you're interested."

No one paid any attention to Sean. The man’s name was Angga. He was a famous antique collector in Bandung, known for owning antiques from many different eras. He usually collected expensive antiques and was also a professional appraiser at Bandung’s auction houses. In the antique world, there was practically no one who didn’t know him. Angga nodded to the crowd, then looked again at the Rolex watch in Sean’s hand. “Young man, could you show me that watch?” Angga asked once more.

"That's actually kind of cool. Terrifying, but cool." "More than just a crime lord," Reign continues, scrolling through the information. "According to Landon's sources, The Collector doesn't just deal in artifacts. They harvest them. They find people with rare abilities or bloodlines and... extract what they want. Sometimes the person survives. Sometimes they don't." My stomach turns. "And they might want the curse fragments."

It was vague enough to be believable, legitimate enough to explain his obvious wealth, and sophisticated enough to appeal to Papa's interests in art and culture. "Interesting field," he'd continued. " Very specialized market. You must have developed quite a network of contacts over the years." "You could say that." His smile was charming, practiced. "The collector community is surprisingly small and well-connected. Word of mouth is everything in our business." The conversation continued in this vein for what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes.

A earner. Lorenzo, inevitably, was the ghost at this new feast. He could not touch the core business, but "culture" bled into his domain of "entertainment." The nightclubs and高端赌场 (high-end casinos) he controlled were natural venues for discreet meetings with collectors, for the display of "acquired" artworks to tempt buyers. Lorenzo had always taken a hefty, unofficial tax for the use of his spaces. A week after the new division's first major sale—a Etruscan bronze hydria to a reclusive Japanese industrialist—Jay received a summons. Not from Rafe, but delivered by one of Lorenzo's sleek, smirking assistants. An invitation to Velvet.

Teresa took two glasses of champagne and walked towards Cole with a smile. "Hello, Mr. Guller." Cole's eyes were always on Helma. When he heard someone speaking, he turned to look at the person indifferently. When he saw that it was Teresa, a trace of disgust flashed in his eyes. "Yes?" Teresa could not hold back the smile on her face. The closer she got to Cole, the more obsessed she was with him. "I'm Teresa. My family owns Reed Group." Cole's expression was unmoved. "I know."