The man let out a sharp, barking laugh. “A loose setting? Do you honestly think a child in a denim rag knows the first thing about a two-million-dollar masterpiece?” He snapped his fingers aggressively toward the VIP lounge. “Manager! I want this brat removed immediately. And pack up the Celestia. I’m buying it. Right now.”
The heavy mahogany doors at the back of the showroom swung open. Out strode Arthur, the boutique’s notoriously strict director. He took one look at the scene, his face instantly draining of color as he hurried over.
The wealthy man smirked, puffing out his chest. “Finally. Listen here, Arthur, this little girl was smudging the glass and touching—”
Arthur didn’t even acknowledge the man. He stopped a respectful three feet from the girl, strictly ignoring the VIP clients, and offered a crisp, deep bow.
“I am so sorry for the disturbance, Miss Maya,” Arthur said, his voice laced with genuine panic. “Shall I have security escort them out?”
The wealthy man’s jaw practically unhinged. The heavily-jeweled woman beside him gasped, her hand flying to her neck. “Miss… what? Arthur, do you know who we are? I am a Platinum client! I demand to buy that necklace!”
Maya finally turned her full attention to the couple. She reached into her oversized denim jacket, retrieved a custom solid-gold jeweler’s loupe, and tossed it casually in her palm.
“You can’t buy it,” Maya said, a wicked, razor-sharp smile playing on her lips. “The Celestia isn’t for sale. It’s a prototype.”
She tapped the glass directly above the diamonds. “My mother, Aurelia, told me to design the centerpiece for the winter gala. This was my first draft. I came down here to fix that third setting before she grades it.” Maya tilted her head, her brown eyes locking onto his with chilling authority. “And I don’t sell my rough drafts to people with such spectacularly cheap taste.”