THE MAFIA QUEEN'S FATED MATE

CHAPTER FIVE: THE BID

ELYSE NYX BELHAM

Elyse twisted the diamond cuffs around her wrists, as her car came to a slow halt before the entrance of Gilded Rose.

“We are here, Madam,” her driver, Carlos said. She took a deep breath as her female body guard approached the door, then pulled it open.

She stepped out, into the night's cool air. Several cars lined beside hers, and she could see people stepping out. The Nokken had created a lot of buzz, and people—people of affluence—were answering.

She didn't know why everyone wanted this gem, but she knew she wouldn't be leaving until she had it, and then, she'd get all the answers to the numerous questions she had about its existence.

Like, why she kept on having visions of it.

She strode into the luxurious venue. The air in the hall was thick with smell of expensive perfume, and clashing egos. Velvet curtains hung from the windows, chandeliers littered the roof like stars, highlighting the sheen of the expertly polished marble floor. Conversations hummed in near audible whispers, perfected by the clinking of glasses, and ever attentive attendees.

“Oh, I heard it's quite resplendent. Isn't it ironic how something said to bring so much evil, could equally bring immeasurable wealth?” she overheard a man say.

“Oh, I'm just here to behold the gem. I've got my eyes on the most striking painting from Ruge Defur. The fall. It's expected to fetch well north of two million dollars, and I intend to purchase it.” another had said.

Uninterested in starting any conversation, she searched for the best position. She had been given a number paddle at the entrance. The podium was filled with several pedestals, all sheathed, but she was certain that The Nokken was situated somewhere amongst those sheathed pedestals. She could almost feel it.

Slowly, the auction began.

“Lot 5. The highlight of tonight's auction,” the auctioneer announced, his voice like polished mahogany. This was after several pieces were revealed and sold at outrageous millions of dollars. On clue, the fifth pedestal was uncovered, revealing the Nokken in its glory, bathed in halogen lights.

Elyse's breath caught up in her throat. The gem was more beautiful than she'd thought in her waking moments.

“The Nokken,” the man continued. “A 10th century sacred gem, recovered from the Narlyse excavation site in Rome. Provenance includes ties to the myth of Werewolves, demons and some sort of prophesy. The Armageddon, as some would call it. The supernatural properties are unverified.”

Elyse focused on the gem, there was something about it that called to her. Tugged at her senses. Nyx, her wolf stirred. It wasn't just about the visions. A blurry memory surfaced.

“Opening bid is five million dollars,”

“Six million,” a baritone said, his voice like dagger to her heart. Elyse turned, expecting and dreading who she'd find, and there he was.

The motherfucking bastard.

Atlas Stonewall stood a good metres away from her, dressed in black, nicely tailored tux, and white shirt. Blue eyes hard, his jawline rigid, scarred by stubbles.

Mate, Nyx hissed furiously.

Judas, Elyse corrected, giving him a dirty look. Atlas smirked. Ten years had done a lot on him, she thought.

“Eight million,” Elyse turned away from him, raising her number paddle, her voice smooth and cold.

The crowd gasped theatrically. Like they hadn't bought a painting for sixteen million earlier, she scoffed.

“Eight and the half,” Atlas challenged. Elyse didn't spare him a glance this time.

“Nine point five,” she countered.

Atlas didn't flinch, “Twenty million.” he took it up a different level.

Gasp spilled. Men watched with interest, and the women ebbed for the thrill of what seemed like a game of egos. The tension grew palpably, almost like thin shards of glass.

“Twenty two,” Elyse outbid.

“Twenty five,” Atlas countered in a heartbeat.

Elyse boiled. In her mind, she had stabbed him a million times. “Thirty,” she called, her voice almost a whisper, a razor edge of fury cutting through. The auctioneer gasped.

Silence.

That's right, Elyse thought, a satisfied smirk gracing her lips. Atlas approached her slowly. She stiffened as his scent engulfed her. Frost and sandalwood. She'd shivered if she was eighteen, but ten years had passed. Nyx growled.

“You really what to do this?” He asked, his eyes a hard blue. She treated him to a cold silence. “You cannot afford this fight,” he said.

Arrogant bastard, Elyse cussed within. Outside, she ensured she didn't slip.

“Speak for yourself.”

“Thirty million,” the auctioneer spoke. “Going once, twice—” Elyse looked up at Atlas challengingly, the man returned the stare.

“Hundred million,” Atlas announced, his voice like ice shards, piecing through the crowd in a painful stab. It went through Elyse first. Shock broke her facade, drowning the sound of the audience’s gasps.

Atlas maintained eye contact, drinking in her shocked expression. Reveling in what looked like a small win in this war of hearts.

“What's wrong, Elyse?” He taunted, “ I thought you knew my tells?”

“What's your play?” she asked him.

“Never thought you'd ask,” he smirked. Elyse called down the spirit of restraint. Her silver blade pricked her skin. Goddess help her, this man was begging to be stabbed.

“Well, spit it out!” She said through gritted teeth.

“A proposal of some sorts,” he began. His smirk still in place, glad he'd gotten her where he wanted her at this moment.

“A proposal?” Elyse asked, her eyes narrowing into slits.

“You and I. We know what's coming. The prophecy is going to be fulfilled. If the Nokken was found, then Dagmorolf will break free. I believe we are what our kind needs, and together with this gem we would be unstoppable. We would have to come to some sort of union for this…” he paused watching the wheels in her head turn.

Two souls bound, and split will be joined again—”

She knew the prophecy. It was basically a nursery rhyme in the werewolf council.

He believed that was them?

Bound, and split.

And how come he knew of the Nokken, and she didn't? How much more information have they been hiding?

“What do you say?” he asked after sometime.

Elyse looked at the gem, it called to her. She looked back at the man who had betrayed her and rejected her at her lowest, aiding in her being ostracized for ten years. Now, he wanted a union.

What did she say?

“Hundred and five million,” she announced. The crowd, which had taken a break to watch their little commercial, gasped again. Murmurs filled the hall. She turned to him, f**k you in neon sign coloured her irises.

Atlas was livid. “You shouldn't have,” he said.

“I just did,” she mocked him.

“A hundred and five million going once, twice—” The auctioneer screamed, satisfied with the outcome of the bid. Elyse smiled in satisfaction.

“Two hundred million,” a baritone countered, silencing the hall, shocking everyone to submission. Electricity cackled, the tension hit a climax.

Everyone turned upwards, from where the voice had come. The owner of the baritone sat in the shadows of the mezzanine.

Nyx rose.