Evening came faster than Alex expected. He got into his new suit, checked himself in the mirror one last time, and headed down to the valet.
The truck was waiting where he'd left it. Alex climbed in, turned the key, and the engine roared to life. Still too loud for a Mercedes, but no one else seemed to notice.
**
Alex pulled out into Parisian traffic, navigating through winding streets as June called out directions. The Seine River appeared on his right, its dark water reflecting the city lights. Ahead, nestled between the water and the Eiffel Tower, stood an enormous building lit up against the darkening sky.
"Okay, looks like we're here."
**
Alex slowed down, taking in the sight. The venue was impressive. Towering marble columns lined the entrance, each one decorated with intricate golden details that caught the light. A red carpet stretched from the street to massive golden doors. Through tall arched windows, he could see chandeliers glowing inside, casting warm light across what looked like an already crowded room.
"They sure went all out to make the place look appealing," Alex thought.
The valet area was packed. Alex joined the line of cars waiting to be parked, watching as uniformed attendants moved between vehicles with practiced efficiency. A sleek black Bentley pulled up ahead of him. Then a polished Rolls-Royce. Even a limited edition sports car that looked like it belonged on a racetrack rather than a Paris street.
"Damn, whole place reeks of money."
Alex thought about his boss back in the States and his wife. They were wealthy, sure. But this? This was a different level entirely.
When his turn came at the valet, the attendant reached for his key. Alex pulled back.
"I'll hold onto it. Thanks."
The valet raised an eyebrow but didn't push the matter. Alex pocketed the key and walked toward the entrance.
'I don't know why the system told me to come all the way to Paris for a gala, but my guess is it's not just to enjoy the wine. In case I need a quick exit, I'm keeping the key.'
He joined the flow of guests heading toward the entrance. Everyone around him wore evening wear that probably cost more than his monthly salary. Women in gowns with designer names he wouldn't recognize. Men in tuxedos that fit too perfectly to be off the rack. The vibrant colors, the sparkle of jewelry, the low murmur of sophisticated conversation - it all screamed old money and power.
Alex adjusted his own suit and kept walking, trying to look like he belonged.
Two guards stood at the entrance, both wearing earpieces and stern expressions. One of them held out his hand as Alex approached.
"Invitation, monsieur."
'Shit!'
Panic flashed through Alex for a split second.
**
Alex pulled out his phone, fingers moving quickly. There it was - an email he didn't remember receiving, with a barcode at the bottom.
The guard scanned it with a handheld device. A moment later, he nodded and stepped aside.
"Enjoy your evening, monsieur."
Alex walked through the golden doors and stopped just inside, letting his eyes adjust.
The grand ballroom spread out before him. Glittering chandeliers hung from a ceiling covered in painted frescoes - angels and clouds and dramatic scenes he couldn't quite make out in the dim light. A sweeping staircase on the far side led to an upper level where musicians in formal wear were setting up their instruments. The crowd moved through the space with practiced elegance, conversations flowing like water around islands of laughter.
Alex scanned the room, taking it all in. Tables lined the walls, covered in white cloth and topped with elaborate flower arrangements. Waiters moved between guests with trays of champagne. Near the center, a small group had gathered around what looked like an ice sculpture.
'I'm definitely an imposter here. But I can't show it. Getting caught wouldn't end well.'
He moved into the crowd, keeping his posture straight, his expression neutral.
Near one of the tables, he spotted a group deep in animated conversation. Alex drifted closer, catching fragments of their discussion.
"Did you hear about the latest exhibition at the Louvre?"
"Oh, I wouldn't miss it for the world. The pieces they've curated this time are simply divine."
Alex hesitated for just a moment, then stepped into their circle. "Absolutely! The Louvre's collection is... something else."
The words came out smooth. Natural. Like he'd been discussing art exhibitions his whole life.
The group turned to look at him. For a second, Alex thought they'd see right through him. But then one of the women smiled.
"A fellow art enthusiast. How refreshing."
"Speaking of masterpieces," Alex continued, the words flowing without him really thinking about them, "have you tried the escargot here? It's practically edible art."
One of the men laughed. "I prefer the coq au vin myself. Much more refined, don't you think?"
Alex nodded like he knew exactly what that was. "A classic choice. Can't go wrong with the classics."
He excused himself smoothly and moved away, his heart beating a little faster than normal.
'That was too easy. Way too easy.'
The conversation had just... happened. He'd said the right things, laughed at the right moments, exited at the right time. Like he'd done it a thousand times before.
But he hadn't. Alex had spent most of his adult life avoiding social situations, especially ones with people who made him feel inadequate.
So why had that felt so natural?
He pushed the thought away and looked around the room again.
Near the far wall, he spotted a long table covered in dishes. Small plates, carefully arranged. People were helping themselves, so Alex grabbed a plate and started loading it up with things he couldn't identify but looked expensive.
"I could get used to this lifestyle," he muttered, sampling something that tasted like butter and garlic and money.
As he ate, Alex let his gaze wander across the ballroom. He was looking for... something. The target, presumably. Though he had no idea what that target looked like or how he was supposed to find them.
'June said the auction might be connected. Guess I'll find out soon enough.'
His eyes swept over the crowd methodically. Groups of people clustered together, talking and laughing. A couple dancing near the orchestra, which had started playing something classical. More waiters circulating with champagne.
Then his gaze landed on the bar at the far side of the room.
'All that lying is making me thirsty.'
Alex set his plate down and headed in that direction, weaving through the crowd.
The bar was polished wood, lit from below so it glowed. A bartender in a crisp white jacket was mixing drinks with practiced efficiency. Alex leaned against the counter, grateful for a moment to just stand still.
"What can I get you, monsieur?" the bartender asked.
"Champagne. And tell me, what's everyone talking about tonight?"
Before the bartender could answer, a voice came from Alex's left.
"Haven't you been paying attention? The talk of the town just showed up."
Alex turned.
A woman stood beside him, elegant in a way that seemed effortless. Her dress was simple but clearly expensive - black, form-fitting, with a neckline that suggested without showing. Her dark hair was pulled back, revealing sharp cheekbones and eyes that were currently sizing him up with undisguised interest.
"Make that champagne two glasses," she told the bartender, then looked back at Alex with a slight smile. "I saw you at the valet earlier. You were the one who wouldn't hand over his keys."
'Shit. She noticed.'
Alex kept his expression neutral. "Guilty."
"Interesting choice." She tilted her head slightly. "Most people here trust the valet service. Either you're paranoid, or you're planning a quick exit. Which is it?"
The question was casual, but her eyes were sharp. Calculating.
Alex found himself smirking. "Maybe I just like being prepared. Never know when you'll need to leave in a hurry."
'What am I doing? Why am I saying this?'
But the words kept coming, smooth and confident.
"Besides," he continued, "who says I can't enjoy making an entrance and an exit?"
The woman's smile widened slightly. "A man who likes to be in control. I can respect that." She paused. "Though you don't quite fit in here, do you? There's something... different about you."
Alex's pulse quickened. She was testing him. Seeing if he'd crack.
"Different how?"
"Most of the people here inherited their wealth. Born into it. They move through these events like it's just another Tuesday." Her eyes never left his face. "But you? You're watching everyone a little too carefully. Taking it all in. Like you're trying to memorize it."
For a moment, Alex didn't know what to say. She'd read him perfectly.
Then the bartender returned with their champagne, breaking the tension.
The woman took her glass and raised it slightly. "I'm curious about you, mysterious stranger. That's rare for me."
Alex picked up his own glass. "Alex. And curiosity is dangerous, you know."
"So is boredom." She clinked her glass against his. "Tatiana. But you can call me Dija."
"Dija," Alex repeated. The name sounded expensive. "So what brings someone like you to a gala like this? Besides the champagne."
"Business. Always business." She took a sip, her eyes still on him. "And you? What's your business here, Alex?"
"Would you believe me if I said I'm a philanthropist?"
Tatiana laughed. Actually laughed. "No. But I appreciate the creativity."
Before Alex could respond, a man in a black suit approached them. He leaned close to Tatiana and whispered something Alex couldn't hear.
Her expression changed. Not much, but enough.
"It seems the main event is about to begin," she said, setting down her glass. "I assume you'll be attending?"
"Main event?"
"The auction." Tatiana's smile was knowing. "That's why most people are really here. The gala is just... window dressing."
Another man in a black suit approached Alex. He leaned in and spoke quietly. "Monsieur, the auction is beginning shortly. Please follow me."
Alex glanced at Tatiana. She was already walking away, the first man in the suit following her like a shadow.
'This is it. This is what I'm here for.'
**
Alex followed the second man through the ballroom, away from the music and champagne and false sophistication. They went through a side door he hadn't noticed before, down a corridor lined with more artwork, and finally to another set of doors.
The man opened them and gestured for Alex to enter.
Inside was a smaller room, more intimate. Rows of plush chairs faced a small stage. Maybe fifty people total, all taking their seats.
Alex spotted Tatiana near the front. She glanced back at him and gestured to the empty seat beside her.
'Of course. Why not.'
He made his way down the aisle and sat. The chair was comfortable. Expensive. Everything here was expensive.
"Glad you could make it," Tatiana said quietly. "This is the interesting part."
The lights dimmed. Conversations faded to whispers, then silence.
A spotlight hit the stage.
A man in an immaculate suit stepped into the light, microphone in hand. His smile was wide and practiced.
"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice boomed through the space, "the time has come for the grand auction!"
Alex leaned back in his seat, his heart pounding.
'Here we go.'