Vicious Royalty

CHAPTER 6: THE SILENT AUCTION

By Friday night, the rain had turned into a thick, clinging fog that smothered the gothic towers of St. Jude’s. The Annual Founder’s Gala was held in the grand ballroom of the main estate. It was the premier event of the fall semester—a high-society charity auction where the school’s board members, wealthy alumni, and Tier 1 families gathered to flex their financial power under the guise of philanthropy. I stood near the grand marble staircase, wearing a floor-length black velvet gown that Julian’s personal tailor had delivered to my dormitory room three hours earlier. It was simple, sharp, and structured, free of the excessive sequins or heavy tulle favored by the other girls. "You look like a dark stain on their pristine carpet," a smooth voice purred behind me. Julian stepped up to my side, wearing a immaculate tailored black tuxedo with a crisp white shirt and no tie. He looked lethal—unrestrained wealth wrapped in custom silk. "I’ll take that as a compliment," I said, eyeing the room. "Why am I here, Vance? You said administrative duties. I don't see a clipboard." "Your job tonight is simple," Julian murmured, reaching out and casually sliding his fingers through mine, lacing them tightly together. His palm was warm against my cold skin. "You stand at my side, you look at these hypocrites like they're beneath your boots, and you let everyone know that Tier 1 belongs to us." My heart gave a sharp, involuntary kick at the pull of his hand, but I didn't pull away. In a room filled with two hundred sharks, standing next to the biggest predator was the safest place to be. Across the room, Chloe Sinclair stood beside her father, Arthur Sinclair, a heavy-set man with cold eyes and a manicured gray beard. When Arthur noticed Julian holding my hand, his face darkened instantly. He whispered something to his daughter, handed his champagne glass to a waiter, and began marching straight toward us across the ballroom floor. "Here comes trouble," I muttered under my breath. "Let him talk," Julian said quietly, his grip on my fingers tightening just a fraction. "Watch how quickly a powerful man crumbles when he realizes he’s out of his depth." "Julian," Arthur Sinclair said as he approached, his voice booming with forced warmth that failed to mask the tension in his jaw. "I was hoping to catch you before the bidding starts. Your father mentioned you were taking a more active role in the family’s asset allocations." "Mr. Sinclair," Julian replied smoothly, his tone completely flat. He didn't offer a handshake. Arthur’s eyes darted down to me, his lip curling into a slight sneer. "And who is your guest? I don't believe I recognize the family name." "This is Elena Lin," Julian introduced, his voice carrying clearly across the surrounding circle of guests. "She is my guest of honor, as well as the new student liaison for the board’s audit committee." Arthur froze. "Audit committee? Since when does a scholarship student hold an advisory role on board finances?" "Since six o'clock this evening," Julian said, taking a slow step forward, his tall frame effortlessly dominating the space between them. "When I signed the authorization papers transferring my family’s supervisory vote to her." I kept my face entirely dead, masking my shock. Julian hadn't mentioned anything about an audit committee in our contract. He had just handed a scholarship kid direct oversight leverage over board allocations. Arthur’s face flushed a deep, dangerous purple. "This is absurd! She isn't qualified! She’s a street ghost taking up space on charity funds—" "Careful, Arthur," Julian interrupted, his voice dropping into a low, lethal whisper that sent a cold chill through the air. "The Sinclair firm relies on a fifteen-million-dollar credit line underwritten by my family's bank. If my student liaison finds a single irregularity in your school donation records during Monday’s audit, that credit line gets frozen before noon." Arthur choked on his next word, his eyes darting frantically between Julian’s cold, dark eyes and my calm, unbothered expression. "You wouldn't," Arthur rasped. "Try me," Julian whispered, a slow, dark grin touching his lips. "Now, if you’ll excuse us, the bidding is starting." Julian didn't wait for a response. He turned on his heel, guiding me toward the front row of reserved seating near the auction stage. The moment we sat down, I leaned in close to his ear, my voice razor-sharp. "You're using me as a battering ram against the board." "I'm giving you the weapon you need to tear them down," Julian whispered back, his breath hot against my neck as his hand rested heavily on the back of my chair, his thumb lightly brushing against the bare skin of my shoulder. "They tried to destroy your life on Tuesday, Elena. I'm just handing you the matches." I stared at the stage as the headmaster stepped up to the podium, my mind spinning with the sheer scale of the fire Julian was setting. He wasn't just obsessed with controlling me—he was handing me the power to burn St. Jude’s hierarchy to the ground. And the scariest part was how much I wanted to pull the trigger.