by Alison Ryan
“O-of course, Ms. Brentford. Complete dis-discretion.”
“Fabulous,” she replied, the tip of her index finger touching the thin strip of exposed skin between his sleeve and glove. She spun and her red-bottomed heels click-clacked away. “Take your time, Mr. Dixon will assist you with anything you need.”
The butler, Anderson Dixon, stood sentry near the door to observe Damian Pierce as he worked. As Quinn Brentford left the room, a hulking security man silently followed her.
Quinn dialed her phone as she strode down the hallway toward the kitchen.
“I have Damian Pierce here right now going over the Gutenberg,” Quinn said as she walked. “He’ll look at the First Folio and a few of the others while he’s here, too. Saito was here two days ago. Pierce will confirm Saito’s authentication. I’ve leaked word through some backchannels about the auction. If it hasn’t gotten back to the Titans by now, once Pierce signs off on the top drawer stuff, Odin Titan will be salivating. He’ll be in Vienna. I guarantee it.”
4
Piper Titan sat on the floor of Odin and Clara’s Arroyo Place penthouse condominium, watching her daughter, Lea, tossing a ball for Abner II— Clara and Odin’s beagle— to slowly fetch and return.
Lea clapped and giggled each time Abner ambled back over, with his slow, carefree waddle.
“I’m so tempted to just do the C-section,” Clara groaned from the couch. She clutched her pregnant belly and let her head fall back on the cushion. “Two more days of this? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Piper reached over and offered her hand to her sister-in-law. “Believe it or not, you’re going to miss being pregnant.”
Clara gave her a look of disbelieving annoyance.
“Seriously,” Piper continued. “Once I had Lea, I felt so empty inside. Deflated. I mean, having her laying on me, skin to skin, was the best moment of my life. Bar none. But once that moment passed, and I realized there would be no more kicks, that she belonged to Atlas, to you, hell, to the world, it made me a little sad. Before that, she’d been mine. Just mine. Is that selfish? I don’t know. Pregnancy brain is a funny thing.”
Clara took Piper’s hand and squeezed it, considering her words.
“I get it, I think,” Clara replied. “I feel like I’ve been pregnant for about thirty years at this point. I can barely remember what it’s like not to have this beach ball announcing my arrival every time I enter a room. I should expect a major transition.”
Lea started to howl inconsolably when Abner II’s ball rolled into a corner, behind a potted plant, where the beagle couldn’t reach it. Untroubled, he plopped down and began to snore almost instantaneously.
“You have no idea,” Piper said, crawling over to Lea to lift her up and give her a pat on the butt to point her in the direction of the stuck ball. “And you’re having two? I can’t even begin to imagine.”
“I’ve been searching for nannies online,” Clara admitted. “At least for overnight. Don’t judge.”
“Not judging at all,” Piper answered. “Just jealous! The sleep deprivation is the worst. Although with Lea things were so different from I guess what most people would consider normal anyway. Atlas was still recovering from being shot, so we had some help. But a night nanny sounds wonderful.”
“I just have to find one named Helga, who’s built like a fire hydrant and has gray hair,” Clara stated, flatly. “I’m not having some UNLV child development major parading her skinny ass around here.”
“Stop it,” Piper insisted. “First of all, you’re beautiful. Stunning. Second, Odin is completely smitten. You could have the entire UNLV dance team up here in lingerie and Odin wouldn’t notice.”
Clara rolled her eyes and laughed. “Yeah, well, let’s not test that theory, okay?”
“What theory aren’t we testing?” Odin asked, walking into the room. He’d just returned from a business lunch with Atlas and two top Titan Holdings board members.
Clara and Piper made eye contact and stifled giggles. “Your wife wanted to hire a ‘manny’ to help with the babies,” Piper fibbed. “I told her that I thought the guy from Sons of Anarchy, the lead guy with the blonde hair, would be great with kids. Clara wasn’t sure. What do you think?”
Odin sat down next to Clara and kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and both cheeks, saving her sweet mouth for last. Breaking the kiss, he leaned down and put his ear against his wife’s pregnant belly, listening for his twins.
“This is about ‘Helga’ again, isn’t it?” Odin asked.
Clara punched her husband on the shoulder. “Stop it! I know you want some hot little number up here to help with the babies. It’s not happening.”
“Baby,” Odin said, between kissing Clara’s throat and just behind her ears. “You’re the hottest little number I can imagine.”
“There’s nothing little about me,” Clara pouted.
Lea toddled over and hugged Odin’s knee. “Unca O! Unca O!” Lea repeated, smiling triumphantly. He lifted her up over his head and then let her fall quickly almost back to the floor, “saving” her at the last second. She laughed hysterically.
“You’re not supposed to be ‘little’, Clara,” Odin insisted. “You’re carrying twins! Besides, you’ve never been more beautiful. I’m going to miss you looking like this.”
“Pfft,” Clara responded. “I’m a hot mess. I know I am. You don’t have to lie. Have you heard anything more on the books Canaan called about?”
“Yes, actually. Really surprising news,” Odin related, setting Lea down so she could continue her game with Abner II, since the sound of Odin’s voice had woken the dog from his nap.
“There’s a Japanese rare book dealer, Kazushi Saito, whom I’ve dealt with a few times. He buys and sells, does authentications and appraisals. I contacted him to see if he knew anything about a Gutenberg Bible coming up for auction and although it took some arm-twisting, he confirmed the whole thing. He’s seen it,” Odin enthused. “If he says it’s legit, then it’s the real deal.”
“That’s too bad,” the deep voice of Atlas Titan resonated through the condo. “I was hoping it was one of Canaan’s scams.”
Atlas came in behind Odin, leaning his walking stick on the wall near the kitchen. Lea waved, but when Atlas held out his arms for her to hug him, she giggled and climbed back up on Odin’s lap.
“Your daughter has refined, cultured taste,” Odin joked. “She takes after her uncle.”
Atlas sat down on the couch behind his wife, and Piper leaned her head back to share an upside down kiss with her man.
“You’re with me, then,” Clara said, looking at Atlas.
“How’s that?” Atlas asked.
“In hoping the whole ‘Gutenberg Bible’ thing wasn’t authentic,” Clara answered. “He’s so obsessive that I fear he’s going to spend every last cent chasing that thing. We’ll own a priceless rare book, but be living in a tent somewhere.”
“No way,” Odin replied, bouncing Lea on his knee. “I’ll just send you back to work, Dr. O’Grady. I’ll be a stay at home dad. How’s that?”
“I’ll settle for you changing a diaper now and then. Your brother can teach you,” Clara teased.
“If it comes down to changing diapers or teaching your babies to eat solid food, take the diapers,” Atlas advised. “Way less messy and frustrating.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Odin replied. “I hope you’re close to publishing, these babies are going to be here any time now.”
“Publishing?” Piper queried. “As in a book? Atlas?”
“He hasn’t told you?” Odin asked, in mock disbelief.
“He’s full of shit,” Atlas interjected.
“Burping Babies the Navy SEAL Way is the working title, right Atlas?”
Atlas snarled and waved his brother off. Piper and Clara laughed.
“Oh yeah, it’ll be a best-seller. From SEAL to Slobber. Go to Sleep or I’ll Kill You,” Odin recited his own faux titles for a book he and Raven ha
d taken great joy in teasing Atlas over when he once suggested he ought to write one. “There’ll be a chapter about how a C-4 plastic explosive is a perfectly acceptable substitute for Play-Doh and one about giving Mommy a break and drinking the blood of an enemy rather than nursing. It’ll be great. Publishers are lining up!”
The more Odin teased, and the more Piper and Clara laughed, the redder Atlas’s face became.
Abner II came to the rescue, rolling on his back and wiggling across the room, drawing everyone’s attention with her snorts of pleasure.
“Honey, can you get me something cold to drink? I don’t feel so great,” Clara asked.
“Sure thing,” Odin replied. “You look a little pale. Do you want to lay down?”
Odin reached the kitchen and pulled a bottle of spring water from the fridge, but as he walked back across the room to hand it to his wife, she shrieked.
“It’s…oh! I think it’s happening!”
The entire room froze.
“Shit! I mean great! Or, I don’t know what I mean,” Odin stammered.
“Grab her hospital bag, genius,” Atlas commanded, and rose to his feet. “Can we drive you to the hospital, or do you need an ambulance?”
Piper held Clara’s hand and touched her face. “Hey. Look at me. You can do this. It’s hard, I’m not gonna lie. But you’re a rock star. Just think of those two beautiful babies you’ll be holding soon.”
Clara squeezed Piper’s hand and gritted her teeth as a contraction felt like it would tear her in half. “We can drive. But I think we should go soon. Now.”
Atlas helped Clara to her feet as Odin came back in with the bag Clara had packed for her delivery.
“Do you want to take Lea or go with them to the hospital?” Atlas asked. Piper had grown close to Clara, and she wanted to be with her friend, holding her hand and helping Odin coach her through delivering the two newest Titans.
“I’m with Odin and Clara. Lea needs to eat.”
“Alright, alright,” Atlas conceded. “And am I supposed to feed this one, too?” Atlas pointed to Abner II, still giving himself a back massage on the carpet.
“Yeah, food’s in the cabinet next to the fridge. Stay here if you want, or I’ll call Diane, she takes care of Ab whenever we’re out of town, she can handle him.”
“I’ll hang here for a bit. Maybe have some steaks sent up for the three of us. Keep me posted.”
“Steak. Splendid. Are you going to put it in the bender and make a smoothie out of it for her?” An exasperated Piper Titan asked her husband.
“Feeding Babies the SEAL Way,” she joked as she helped Clara out the door while Odin called down to have the car brought around.
“Don’t forget my cigars, bro,” Atlas called to his brother. “They better be Cubans. I can tell the difference.”
5
At 9:37 AM the next morning, after an excruciating fifteen hours in labor, while squeezing the hands of her husband, Odin, and best friend and sister-in-law Piper, Clara Titan gave birth to a healthy six pound, four-ounce baby boy.
After the monumental struggle to push him out, and all the screaming, cursing, and frustration that accompanied his arrival, the baby himself was a beautiful, silent cherub. He had thick dark hair in places, and in other spots, not so much.
“He’s a trendsetter already, baby,” Odin remarked. “Pretty soon, every newborn in town will have that hairstyle. The…I don’t know… ‘Dalmatian’?”
“Shut up, Odin, I just want my baby! I need to hold him,” Clara pleaded.
The room was treated to the pitiful first cry of the new arrival, prompted by the nurse giving him a gentle pat on the rear end.
Odin cut the cord, and the newest Titan was weighed, measured, and checked for birth defects before he was set— naked— on his mother’s chest.
“Oh my God, my baby, he’s so beautiful,” Clara said, wiping away tears.
“Don’t get too attached, your work isn’t finished yet,” the attending physician remarked. “There’s still one more in there waiting to make his or her debut.”
Odin and Clara knew they were having twins, but they’d chosen not to know the genders of their babies.
Clara nodded and handed the baby boy off to Piper, who swaddled him expertly.
Piper sat down in a nearby chair, cooing to the baby while Odin gave Clara a brief pep talk and a kiss on her sweaty forehead.
“If everybody’s ready, let’s continue,” announced the doctor.
Twelve minutes after baby number one’s arrival, the second slipped out as if going down a waterslide at nearby Wave Works.
“Congratulations on your baby… girl!” The doctor announced, after an appropriately pregnant pause.
Odin wiped away a tear and bent to hug Clara as their daughter reacted to her birth very differently than her older brother. She screamed and screeched and wailed until Odin cut the cord.
She was weighed (five pounds, three-ounces), checked, and given to Clara. She didn’t stop howling until she expertly latched onto Mommy’s nipple and received her breakfast.
Her eyes were a dark, bold blue, and the hair atop her head, while not as dark as her brother’s, was full all over. No bald patches. No Dalmatian ‘do.
“So what are their names, now that you know what you have?” Piper asked, still rocking the sweet, gentle bundle while Clara nursed her wild daughter.
Odin, sitting by Clara’s bedside, locked eyes with his wife and nodded his head. She burst into tears and reached an arm to wrap it around Odin, who leaned across the bed and gently caressed his daughter’s head.
“She’s Emmie and he’s Callum,” Clara announced.
“We had two boy names,” Odin explained. “Callum, for Clara’s husband who was killed. I hope between this Callum and me, we can help to fill the hole in Clara’s heart. And Emmie is named after your father-in-law, Piper. Emerson.
“If they would have both been boys, Emerson and Callum. A girl would have always been Emmie, and we weren’t entirely sure about a second girl.”
“Raven’s not going to be happy,” Piper reminded the proud new parents. “She was really campaigning for her name.”
“We thought about that,” Odin said. “That’s why Emmie middle name is ‘Verna’. Raven’s birth name.”
“Doesn’t she hate…” Piper’s voice trailed away.
“Bingo,” Odin said, with a smile.
“I’m so tired, please take your daughter,” Clara asked. “I want my steak now. And then to sleep for twenty-seven hours. Take care of those babies.”
One of the perks of the boutique hospital the Titans chose was a steak dinner for all new moms. For Clara Titan, it would be Wagyu beef.
A nurse in the corner gave Clara a thumbs up and went off to let the kitchen know that room #223 was ready for her Wagyu.
Clara melted when she watched Odin hold Emmie for the first time, cradling her and rocking her gently back and forth, whispering to her.
Piper took a picture of the proud new father sitting in his chair holding two bundles, one pink and one blue, and sent it to everybody she thought would care, captioning it with their names, weights, and times of birth:
Welcome to the world!
Callum Canaan Titan
Born 9:37 AM
6 lbs. 4 oz.
Emmie Verna Titan
Born 9:49 AM
5 lbs. 3 oz.
Congratulatory texts from well-wishers in so many different far-flung places nearly blew up Clara’s phone.
Clara finally got her steak, delicious and well-deserved.
Raven replied with snark at the sight of Emmie’s middle name, as expected. She and Canaan had met in Vienna to prep for the auction two days hence. Canaan was thrilled to have become an uncle again.
Atlas brought Lea over in the afternoon to meet her new cousins, and she was absolutely delighted, although it took some convincing to get her to understand that Callum and Emmie were real, and not baby dolls with which she could play.
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Atlas was not pleased at the lack of Cuban cigars.
Abner II was dejected at having to remain behind, although Diane the dog-sitter came over to hang out with him. He paced the condo nervously, like an anxious new father.
Emerson Titan wept at the news of his grandchildren’s arrival, and he promised to visit them just as soon as he could.
All was well and peaceful in the Titan universe.
But not for long.
6
Armed guards patrolled the perimeter of the castle as Canaan and Duncan’s car came to rest outside next to a Maybach.
The circular driveway in front of the property resembled an exotic car dealership with Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and Maseratis all present alongside Bentleys, Rolls Royces, and the lone red Maybach.
The Porsche Cayenne Turbo S that Odin had arranged for Canaan looked almost pedestrian despite its almost $200,000 price tag.
Security met Canaan as he exited his vehicle, requesting his invitation to the auction and going over both he and Duncan with a metal-detecting wand.
The two men were led inside the house, where they were offered champagne and caviar as they milled about with men and women of all nationalities, wearing suits and gowns from the world’s top designers. Several sheikhs eschewed suits for their traditional Bedouin dress.
The great room emptied out when a man in round glasses and a grey suit invited the bidders to join him in the dining room, which had been converted into a makeshift auction house.
The auction room was ringed by men in dark suits and sunglasses, with plush chairs arranged in a semicircle around a podium and several tables. Off to one side, a row of women sat at open laptops with a bank of telephones at their disposal.
After several hours of watching jewelry and high-end antiques come and go for exorbitant prices, Duncan Gilchrist patted Canaan on the knee. “Here’s the Folio.”
“The next item up for bid is a copy of William Shakespeare’s ‘First Folio’,” announced the auctioneer. “Published in 1623, it contains Mr. Shakespeare’s first thirty-six works. It is complete. A finer copy has not come up for sale in over a century. Forty complete copies are known to exist. Only one other is owned privately. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Bidding will open at €2,000,000.”