El Coleccionista Novels & Stories

Both men turned to look at me. “Bianchi is a collector,” I continued, my mind piecing together the fragments I had gleaned from the ledgers and my father’s notes. “He doesn't just collect art; he collects power, influence, secrets. He surrounds himself with beautiful, expensive, and rare things because it reinforces his status. His strength is not just in his soldiers, but in his reputation.” “What are you suggesting, Isabella?” Alessandro asked, his golden eyes sharp and focused on me.

"Sounds like exactly the kind of thing you’d enjoy tearing apart." "I don’t enjoy it," he said, his voice softening, "but I do enjoy having you here." The words slipped out so easily that Ivy shot him a sharp look. "Don’t joke." Josh only smiled, as if her reaction was all part of some calculated move. "You should know—artists and collectors aren’t the only ones in the game. A lot of big companies are involved too. Including a few with ties to… the people we’ve been watching." "Clara Jung and Rico?"

"Uncovering the old bones of the house. You’d be surprised what people try to hide behind a bit of plaster and gold leaf." Dante’s grip on her waist tightened, a silent warning. But Ivy didn't flinch. She leaned into him, looking for all the world like a devoted lover. "Mr. Moretti has a very specific vision for the collection," she continued, her eyes meeting those of a rival developer. "He’s a curator of... rare things." "And you are the rarest of all, Miss St. Claire," the developer said, his eyes lingering on the ruby collar. "Though I must say, the Moretti brand is quite... distinctive."

Elara studied an abstract canvas. ​"I acquire it." Alexander kept his gaze on the painting. "You cannot collect assets without understanding what they are about." ​"What do you collect?" ​"Abstract." He adjusted his cuffs. "Rothko. Pollock. De Kooning. I prefer artists who broke rules to construct something unprecedented." ​They stood near the center of the gallery when a familiar voice cut through the hum of the crowd. ​Marcus and Isabella. ​Elara’s stomach dropped. The Sterling empire required networking. They attended every high-level event to maintain their social positioning and display their stolen success.

Elena's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out. Unknown number. I saw your new work online. The "Horizons" series. It's extraordinary. I'm not a threat. I'm a collector. I'd like to buy the whole series. Call me when you're ready. Elena stared at the screen. Then she smiled. She turned off the phone, put it back in her pocket. "Who was it?" Alexander asked. "Someone who wants to buy my paintings." He glanced at her. "Good news?"

He stepped aside, holding the door just wide enough for her to enter. The air inside was cooler, faintly scented with sandalwood. The gallery wasn’t cluttered with glass cases like most — instead, each item had its own pedestal under a single focused light. Some displays were empty but for a small plaque, as if the pieces they described were too valuable to be shown at all. Lucien Kael — she knew his name, though they had never met. In her circles, he was known as a dangerous kind of collector. Not just because he dealt in objects with price tags that would bankrupt nations, but because rumors said he had his own way of “keeping” things.

The voice from the other end was tinged with mockery, "Do you think I am that great to put a tail on The Alexander Volkonsky if that's who-" "Mark, please," Jeremy let out a deep breath. "Just check what he does in this area." Now Mark got serious since Jeremy pleaded. Jeremy carefully explained the uneasiness he felt. "That's it? Alexander Volkonsky is an avid collector of glassware, especially engraved and etched ones. He probably got impressed with the bowl and took it with him. There shouldn't be more to it. And expect a handsome payment. He doesn't just take stuff. He pays. He is one of the good ones," Matt explained.

"This is definitely another Blood Phoenix Miracle. In both the collector's and antique markets, this agate would easily fetch over 100 million!" The crowd, which had been cheering for Aspen moments ago, fell dead silent at Elsie's announcement. Then, the room erupted with wild discussions and incredulous shouts. "The Blood Phoenix Miracle? I'm Harrison Blake, a private collector, and I'm offering 200 million!" one voice called out. Another bid came from Blumedale Antiquities. "300 million, Mr. Lloyd, and we'll make you our Vice Chairman!" The scene became chaotic as countless collectors, experts, and enthusiasts rushed toward Andrew. Even elderly connoisseurs were pushing through the crowd w

I asked, keeping my eyes glued to the friendly expression on his face. The members of the Iridescence Pack were in on the game, and each played their own roles. It was common knowledge that the members of the pack gave nothing away, and never offered additional help beyond what they could already provide. There would be no cheating, no begging for help or a free ride. The golden etching on the box shimmered, as though it were winking at me. "Hm, I'm not sure." The shop keeper shrugged, giving me an honest yet sheepish grin. "My husband is the collector. Finds all of the stuff in this shop. I just clean em' up a bit. I even make some of the pieces!"

His large toothy grin caught her attention and her eyes trailed over his handsome features. “Excuse me, do I know you?” The man’s smile faltered for a millisecond and his gaze turned apologetic. “Forgive me for being so impolite. I’m an Andrès. An art collector and I work with Cressida Benoit. Intrigued, Elsida arched an eyebrow, “Well you already know me.” Andrès laughed huskily, “Fortunately I do.” “So you‘re an art collector, what kind of art do you hoard?” She asked grateful for the distraction.