DC greeted us with a bracing chill that had my teeth chattering behind the collar of my London Fog. After stepping off the helipad, Vincent and I dashed into the stairwell and made our way to the car waiting to take us to the restaurant he'd reserved for our pre-auction meal. With any luck, the nausea from the helicopter ride would subside before we arrived.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as we snuggled in the backseat of the Mercedes E class. "Is your wound giving you any pain? And be honest with me."

"It twinges when I move wrong, but it's not sore. I know the signs of infection, Vincent. I'm good." I kissed him then made a show of straightening his lapel pin, which had been appearing on his suits recently. I'd snagged it from a secret vault beneath Trinity Church. Not because I'm a klepto, but because it looked exactly like a pin his father wore. "I'm glad you decided to wear this tonight. It's a one-of-a-kind. Just like you."

He dipped behind my ear to give me a kiss, offering a whiff of his gollum scent. "I love you more than breathing."

"I know." I walked my fingers across his crotch, feeling him strengthen. "But I prefer my gollums breathing."

Vincent's eyebrows rose. "Oh? Have you had many gollums to make that comparison?"

"Only a few...but you're my favorite."

My bad joke had his irises flaring. "Reese, you cut me to the bone."

"And you worry too much. You are my first and only love."

He offered a coy smile, which told me he was appeased. Fortunately, my nausea abated as we made the journey to Zatinya, the restaurant we had deemed our favorite in DC, and when we arrived, the wait staff attended to us like fans. One guy asked to have his picture taken with Vincent, and I thought he was going to swoon. I knew just how the guy felt.

Both sated from our amazing meals, followed by a short make-out session in the backseat of the Mercedes, we arrived at the auction house. The place was packed, but it wasn't long before I recognized a familiar face. Dad was toting a stein filled with chocolate-colored brew topped with thick foam when he found us.

"Can I interest you in a beer, Vincent?" he said, lifting his mug. "They have Guinness."

"Any local brews?" Vincent asked.

"I'm sure they've got something local. How are you, baby girl?" Dad leaned in to kiss my cheek, giving me a snootful of his beer breath. "You look beautiful."

I glanced down at the maxi dress I'd chosen for the event. It was the only warm item I owned that fit the occasion while giving my bandaged belly breathing room. "Thanks. It's an oldie but a goodie. Where's Mom?"

"She's in the back orchestrating when each piece will make its debut. I'm afraid you may not see her until the end."

"I hope she isn't stressing out too much."

"You know she is. There's no other way to be your mom."

A woman, dressed to impress, reminded everyone that the auction would start promptly. So, Dad led us to a pair of seats Mom had reserved for me and Vincent, third row back on the aisle, where we could see the pieces as they were carried in. Vincent kept an eye on the people as they entered the room, and when I heard him groan, I turned to see what had caused it.

I knew right away which attendee had Vincent huffing and puffing when I spied a man with shoulder-length brown hair and round glasses with pink lenses. Fredrick was a demon who lived in a hive outside of Providence, where I spent roughly twenty-four hours before Fredrik helped negotiate my release. The glasses meant he was a close relative to the queen, or maybe they were just for show. Auctions tended to bring out the eccentricities in people. "I wonder what brought Fredrik here," I said.

"Probably the same reason we're here." Vincent continued to stare until Fredrik saw him, and while his glasses hid the expression in his eyes, I could tell by the way his mouth popped unbidden that he was surprised to see us.

"Well, if that's the case, then your mom was right about the cube being a supernatural object. I just hope Charleton isn't right about it carrying a curse."

"Only for demons...which makes me wonder what he wants it for."

"Maybe he wants to destroy it."

Vincent snorted. "Then I wish him luck. Curses are harder to remove than they are to cast."

Fredrik took a seat across the room, forcing Vincent to glance over his shoulder to see him, which he did a lot as the room filled up. When every space had been taken, a rotund auctioneer stepped up to the podium and told everyone to prepare to be amazed, as if we had all come to see the circus. I recognized the guy from other auctions and remembered how animated he got when he chanted. This was going to be fun.

The first piece on the block was an Ansel Adams photograph taken of Siesta Lake in Yosemite. I knew the image well, and the fact that my mom hadn't mentioned it meant she wanted it to be a surprise.

"Holy crap." The sentiment was out of my mouth before I remembered where I was, and I received a few pointed looks from the wealthy participants.

Fuck 'em.

Vincent smiled at my barbaric faux pas, patting my hand in a consoling gesture as the auctioneer started the bidding at eight thousand five hundred dollars. The mood quickly shifted as paddles rose like a whack-a-mole at a carnival. If I had that kind of money laying around, I would have jumped in, but it was nice to see so many appreciators of the great artist battle for their prize. Within seconds, the bid was at twenty-five thousand, and the barker waited, getting ready to call it when Vincent's paddle shot up.

"Vincent, what are you doing?" I whispered.

"Buying you a present."

I was about to argue, but I remembered who I was married to and thought better of it. Heads turned as Vincent made his bid, and not a single paddle challenged him as the barker called out, "Sold! To guest number twelve, who I suspect just made his wife very happy."

Polite chuckles followed the man's joke as the next item was carried in, while I was busy staring at my original Ansel Adams being taken off the floor. Would Mom know it was Vincent who bought it? Had they been in cahoots?

With the auctioneer barreling through another cadence of chants, I couldn't give Vincent a proper thank you, so I kissed his cheek and left it at that. He would get his thank you later at the penthouse. We watched politely as several more items came up for bid. Most of them were interesting, but nothing I would pay money for, and after a seventeenth-century claw-foot tub was carted away, the Pharaoh's Cube came out.

The barker described the piece as an Egyptian artifact excavated from a cave in the late eighteenth century, only to go missing for another two centuries then turn up again in a dead paleontologist's private collection. He opened the bidding at forty-five thousand.

I wasn't surprised that Vincent kept his paddle on his lap. He would wait to see where the bidding went, and Fredrik didn't even flinch when I turned to look at him. It was a woman wearing a tasteless fur-trimmed hat who raised her paddle first, triggering the barker. He flew into the next chorus of his montage, and three more paddles joined the race. A man with a big nose and a bald head, upped the bid by ten thousand, his strange square sunglasses hiding his expression. Like I'd said, eccentric.

When the auctioneer showed signs of slowing, Fredrik finally jumped in, and the fur-lined woman immediately countered. The barker got excited again, and he drew attention to Fredrik by thanking the gentleman in the rose-colored glasses. The woman didn't seem happy as she claimed the next bid, glaring straight ahead and looking as if she was imagining Fredrik's head exploding. When Fredrik took the bid higher, I thought the woman's head might explode. She gritted her teeth as she lifted her paddle, and the barker actually whooped.

"Ninety thousand! Do I hear ninety-one?"

Fredrik's paddle went up, although he looked like he wanted to hurl. How much money did Hadria give him for this piece? Did he have a limit? The woman sitting under the fur hat submitted, setting her paddle in her lap with silent resignation, and Fredrik finally looked over at Vincent, waiting for him to make his move. As soon as the barker called for more bids, Vincent lifted his paddle. This had the barker smacking his leg and whooping again.

"Ninety-two for this rare artifact found in the wilds of Egypt! What a prize! Can I get ninety-three?"

Fredrik raised his paddle, although I think he was only doing it to save face because he didn't look sure about it at all, and when Vincent quickly countered with ninety-four, Fredrik's face lost most of its color as he sat unmoving in his chair. The auctioneer glanced between the two bidders as he dragged out the ending, and a hushed reverence fell over the room.

Then the bald man's paddle suddenly went up as he raised the bid to one-hundred thousand. The auctioneer actually jumped behind the podium, and his boots hit the stage with a boom. "Now there's a man who knows what he wants! Anyone willing to challenge this fellow?"

Vincent finally turned to look at the bald man with the square sunglasses. I wanted to ask if he knew the man, but I didn't dare interrupt the intense moment. The auctioneer began the final count, holding the audience spellbound, and Vincent grudgingly raised the bid.

Now, it was the bald man's turn to look, and when he caught Vincent's narrowed gaze, rather than scowl at his opponent, he actually smiled. In fact, if the dark lenses hadn't been covering his eyes, I would have bet he even winked. I watched him carefully, waiting for him to raise the bid, praying he wouldn't, and my stomach stayed tied in knots as the auctioneer started his countdown again, all while the bald man smiled.

"Sold! To the gentleman holding paddle twelve," the auctioneer said finally. "I'm sure you will be pleased with your purchase, sir."

With the tension broken, the auction continued pleasantly, and when the last piece was claimed, I felt like I had run a marathon. I was also sweating under the thick tights I'd worn. Vincent led me to the refreshment table, ordering a scotch for himself and an ice water for me, which was just what I needed.

"That was quite a show you put on in there, Vincent," Dad said as he joined us to share another pint of Guinness. "I didn't realize you were so fond of ancient Egyptian artifacts."

"Specific artifacts. The puzzle cube intrigued me. I plan to take it home and solve it."

"Best of luck to you." Dad toasted Vincent with his beer just as Fredrik walked up and tapped Vincent on the shoulder.

"Congratulations on your purchase," he said blandly, although I could tell he was holding back more attitude. "Let me know when you're ready to be rid of it. Oh, and I suggest you keep it in the box." Fredrik's gaze flicked to me before he stalked away, giving Vincent no time to respond.

"Sore loser, I guess," Vincent said as he took a casual swig from his mug.

"I thought that man who bid one-hundred thousand would have come by to congratulate you," I said. "But I haven't seen him since the auction ended. After offering that much money, I was expecting him to fight you tooth and nail for it. Do you know him?"

"I'm familiar with him, although I was surprised to see him here. He has a reputation for being a recluse." Vincent set down his empty glass and took my hand. "Come, wife. I want you to see your gift before it's shipped."

We all made our way to the back of the auction house, where we found Mom standing amid a swarm of people. When she saw us, she waved as she extracted herself from the bodies to hurry over.

"Wasn't that spectacular!" she said, pulling me in for a tight hug. I did everything in my power not to grimace when pain radiated from my belly wound. "Of course, it was chaos back here, but you would never know it, huh? And how about Jim? Isn't he a fabulous barker?"

"He was the best part," I said. "Next to having an original Ansel Adams photograph added to my collection."

Mom's eyes went wide. "Number twelve! That was you?" She gushed as she relished a hug on Vincent. "What a wonderful wedding gift. Of course, besides each other. Are you two staying in town tonight? There's an after-party at Chandler's. Senator Baldwin is planning to attend. I'm sure you saw him in the bidding room."

"I think Reese wanted to return home tonight," Vincent said, having already insisted I not overextend myself after my battle with the kitchen knife. "She starts her new job Monday and there was some talk about shopping for clothes."

"You can do that here." Mom was interrupted by a petite woman wearing an oversized sweater and a concerned expression. "I gotta run. You two think about staying. We've got plenty of room at the Kentwell estate. Feel free to pick-up your purchases. Just look for a tall, well-groomed man with a nametag that says Morris. He can arrange shipping as well."

"I know where to find Morris," Dad said. "Follow me."

As soon as we started our journey across the crowded floor, I became aware that my physical state was deteriorating. I felt wet under my armpits, and my feet were sweating inside my boots. Why had I worn this damn maxi monstrosity? It was like carrying an entire bolt of fabric around my waist.

We arrived at the table where Morris stood with a clipboard, helping a man wrap up his purchase. Vincent excused himself to a long table where items were arranged in neat rows, each one bearing numbered tags. Among them,  the pharaoh's cube sat on top of an ornately-carved wooden box. Was that the box Fredrik mentioned? According to the description I'd read online, the dead paleontologist had made it specifically to house the artifact, although I couldn't understand why he'd want to keep it hidden. The cube itself was a beautiful piece of art.

My face flushed as a wave of heat swept through my body, and I blinked a few times, making an unconscious grab for my dad's arm to steady myself.

"What's wrong, Reese? Are you ill?" He forced me to hold his gaze, and I smiled weakly as I considered peeling off my clothes and jumping in the snow.

"I'm just a little warm. Does it feel warm to you?"

"It's probably because of all the people back here. Do you need some fresh air? We can let Vincent handle his purchases."

"No. I want to stay with him. I'll be fine. I just wish I hadn't worn these tights."

"Take them off if they're bothering you. Your dress is long enough to keep your legs warm."

As soon as Dad gave me the green light, I looked around for a bathroom, but another heat wave hit, blooming outward from my belly and shooting down my legs. This was no ordinary infection fever. 

"Reese!" Dad grabbed my hand as I stumbled in place, and his unnecessary shout alerted Vincent, who swung around and made it back to us in three easy strides.

"What happened, baby?" he said as his arm came around me. "Christ. You're burning up." He pressed his palm to my forehead, but I barely felt it.

"I just need to get out of these legs... Leggings... These tights."

Vincent scowled at me. "I thought something felt off. How long have you been feverish?"

"I don't know. It got worse when we came back here. It's warm, don't you think?"

"I need to get you out of here." Without so much as a heads-up, he scooped me and my flowy maxi dress into his arms, speaking over my head to my dad. "Call an ambulance."

Thanks to my overprotective mate, an ambulance arrived in front of the auction house, and I was ferried off to a frenzy of camera flashes and inquiries about my emergency. Most of it I heard as waves of non-distinct voices, with Vincent's being the loudest and most demanding. He informed the paramedic to start the IV in my left arm so any bruising would not impact my dominant arm, which the paramedic probably already knew.

By the time we arrived at the hospital, delirium had set-in, and I was vaguely aware of being asked questions, although one question in particular brought back some clarity.

"Do you think you might be pregnant?" I heard the nurse ask. And I wanted to answer her, I really did, but I couldn't speak the word. Thankfully, Vincent answered for me.

"Yes, but we haven't confirmed it."

"Mrs. Valentino. I'm going to need a urine sample from you. Can you do that for me?"

Sit upright and pee in a cup? Not a chance, lady. "I don't think so."

"No problem. We'll do a blood draw. I need her out of those clothes. Just her bra and underwear." The nurse gave her command to someone standing nearby. It might have been Vincent. I hoped it was Vincent.

"Stay with me, baby." Vincent's voice cut through a loud buzz that had started up inside my ears, and I felt his hand on my cheek. It was cool, and I wanted him to press both hands to my face to take away this intense burning. "Talk to me, Reese. Tell me where you want to hang your new photograph."

My new photograph? Did I take a picture of something? Was it a nude photo of Vincent? Now there was something to hang. Someone chuckled, and I recognized the voice. It was me. I had laughed at my own joke. How sad.

"What's so funny?" Vincent asked as I felt a sudden rush of cool air on my legs. Had someone finally removed those damn tights?

"I'm just picturing you naked," I said.

"And it made you laugh? I don't know how to interpret that, but I'll blame it on the fever."

The nurse came back and there was a muffled conversation that I kind of ignored while she played with the IV in my arm. I was stripped of the rest of my clothing and someone with powerful muscles lifted me up and walked me somewhere. The next thing I knew, I was being lowered into a bathtub, and my body seized when the cold water stung my skin.

"That's cold!"

"You just think it's cold," said the nurse. "It's actually lukewarm. We have to bring your fever down gradually."

Vincent's head appeared in my vision. He looked worried, and it made me feel terrible. "I'm sorry, Vincent. Please, don't worry about us. We'll be fine."

"Us? What do you mean by 'us'? Do you mean you and me?"

What did I mean? Why did I say us? "I meant 'me'. Don't worry about me."

Vincent stared at me for a long time. I knew this because he was still doing it when the nurse reappeared. She wore a funny look, and I couldn't tell whether she was happy or sad.

"The results came back from the pregnancy test," she said as her face swirled in and out of view, and damned if I didn't pass out before she could finish.