Although James never really warmed up to Jason, the long-standing friendship between their families compelled him to make an effort. So, he forced himself to chat with Jason, keeping up polite small talk while Briony wandered off on her

own.

As the two men talked, Briony lost herself among the stalls. Suddenly, something caught her eye. She crouched down, pointing at a delicate porcelain bowl. "How much for this one?" she asked.

The vendor glanced over. "It's got a chip, so I'll give you a deal-five grand, flat." Without missing a beat, Briony said, "Wrap it up for me."

The vendor stared, wide-eyed. That chipped, unimpressive bowl had been gathering dust in a corner for ages-he'd practically given up hope of ever selling it. In a place crawling with experts, only a real pro would snap it up at asking price, no questions asked.

He hesitated, scratching the back of his head, about to say something. But Briony cut him off, "I'll give you ten. It's the real deal, but it's flawed. If you don't sell it to me, it'll just sit here collecting dust."

He fell silent. She was right. Several collectors had shown interest, but all of them had walked away because restoring it would be a nightmare.

In the end, Briony bought the bowl for ten thousand, just as she wanted.

As she turned away with her purchase, she found herself face-to-face with Jason's mocking gaze.

"Seriously? Only someone with more money than sense would pay that much for a damaged piece."

Standing beside James, Jason slipped into full lecture mode. "Listen, antiques aren't really for women to dabble in. I know you want to impress Mr. Delaney, but don't waste your hard-earned cash on junk just to keep up appearances."

Briony stared at him, speechless. Who was really putting on a show here? The nerve!

She couldn't be bothered to answer and turned instead to James.

lips together, struggling not to burst

"I'm done here. Can

on the shoulder. "Mr. Prescott, I'll catch you later. Enjoy the rest of your

was hoping to show you the

little curious despite himself. "Well, with

his bag.

A porcelain Christ figure?

look, then turned their eyes to Jason's

glances met again, and without a

Mr. Prescott, how much did you pay

"One hundred eighty grand!"

James choked. "How much?!"

Jason repeated, brimming with confidence. "The vendor started at two-fifty, but I bargained him down. Lucky number, you know? That's how you win in the

nod. "That's...

biting her tongue to

he'd burst from holding it in, James hurried through his goodbyes,

the steering wheel, laughing until tears streamed down his face. "Oh my God, what a sucker. I bet that vendor still can't

had two older brothers who actually had

took Jason's antics in stride. She offered a dry assessment: "He may be clueless, but at

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