“But why no extension to the loan? Why the hell not?” My voice was far too loud for politeness, yet I saw no reason to moderate it. I stood in my office, ledgers and reports strewn out on the mahogany desk. When I slammed my hand down, the pencils scattered and thin-sheeted documents fluttered on to the floor. Some of them were invoices from our suppliers. In fact, many of them were.
“I warned you,” came the quiet voice from behind me, and a hand pressed the shoulder of my velveteen jacket. Valentine, my trusted bookkeeper and friend. His earnest face stared at me now. “Lucas, I showed you the declining commission figures. The Auction House has hosted significantly fewer sales over the last quarter.” He leaned forward, as if to breathe the words into my ear. “But the bank will no longer a
