The 10 Steps To A Boy's Heart

Chapter 26

It's hard not to turn around and glare at Zander for completely abandoning me with his intimidating father. But it feels like there are multiple eyes on me so I keep my expression schooled and head held high, even though inside I'm panicking. 

We walk past one of the side doors, the glistening lights above us held together by porcelain cherubs. Once the crowd has thinned, I subtly shrug out of Mr Wyatt's hold, half of me wanting to turn around and run back to the hall. 

There are a few guests sauntering around us and I catch a couple heading towards the small warehouse just beyond the topiary garden. That must be where the auction pieces are being kept. 

"How long have you known my son?" Mr Wyatt asks when we are fairly alone, without any prying eyes or ears nearby. 

"Not too long," I answer, not wanting to divulge in this sudden interrogation. Should have known this was coming. 

He grunts at my response and leads me past two stone gargoyle statues, through the winding cement pathway. Thankfully, the ground is smooth or I would have tripped over in the heels I'm wearing. 

There are a few guests who fall in line behind us. I can hear their chatter close by. It must be why he doesn't say more until we walk into the air conditioned warehouse. I catch paintings perched on every wall and some statues I don't recognise. 

It briefly registers that these priceless art pieces already belong to some of the families donating tonight. Just one painting costs more than my entire house, more than my family's net worth, not that we had much to begin with. 

My father flushed all our savings down the drain with one of his many 'business ideas' that never took off and then he blamed us for not having more to support him. 

We stop in front of the beautiful image of a pond. A small bridge perched over water covered with soft pink lilies. Imagine what one painting like this could do for my family. It could cover my entire tuition without the scholarship, my mother and I could move out, get a place far, far away from my abusive father. 

"It was one of his last paintings. A favoured series." Mr Wyatt murmurs from my side, his gaze fixed on the art piece before us as well. "Do you know much about art?"

Again there's that condescension in his tone that's hard to miss. Like how would someone like me have a taste in the arts of all things. I guess he's right in a way. In my current situation I would never ever think of buying anything like this ever. Artworks like these don't belong to my social strata. 

I don't know why the thought makes me sad. To never be able to picture having anything luxurious in my life when there are people here trading them like cattle. 

"It's a Monet," I say, surprising him. We studied art in school and one of my projects were Claude Monet inspired. His are the only works I ended up liking, which is why I was drawn to this one the moment we walked in. 

"I take it this is yours?" I ask him and his smile is so smug, it makes me regret asking. 

"Yes," He nods but then his gaze turns solemn. "I hunted high and low for this piece. Kept it proudly for years. But our children at the John's Hopkins are more important than any painting in the world. Anything for my county and its people."

Sounds like something the president would say. 

"That's very...honourable," I say and then turn my attention back to the painting because it's honestly better than looking at his face. 

"I invited you tonight for a reason." He then mentions. 

Of course he did. 

"You see, my son is in a very precarious position. He's doing well in football and I want him to graduate with honours in Political Science. It looks to be achievable at the rate he's going. And of course you know the media attention he gets because of me."