Chapter 4 - Power Play at the Auction
1344 Words
I backed toward the door. “I’m leaving.”
He caught my wrist before I reached the handle. The heat of his skin burned through the thin silk of my hand.
“Let go,” I whispered.
“If you walk out now, you won’t make it to your car.”
I looked at him. “Are you serious?”
His grip tightened. “Deadly.”
“Then help me,” I said. “If you’re not lying, help me.”
His face changed, conflict flickering across it. “I should. But after what you believe about me, why would you trust me?”
“Because I don’t have a choice,” I said.
He released my wrist slowly. “Take the service stairs down. There’s a side exit by the cooks. My driver will be there.”
“Why?”
“Because if you leave through the main hall, you’re a target,” he said.
I paused. “And you?”
“I’ll be a few steps behind,” he said. “If they try anything, they’ll have to go through me first.”
Something in his tonesteel and something almost tendertwisted my heart terribly.
“Don’t mistake this for forgiveness,” I said.
He gave a faint nod. “Don’t mistake this for penance.”
We moved quickly through the hallway, his shadow crossing mine on the marble walls. My heart thundered. Every sound of footsteps behind us felt like a gun being c****d.
“Three years,” he muttered without looking at me. “Three years of silence. Did you ever miss me?”
My throat ached. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
I didn’t answer.
He stopped suddenly, pulling me into a dark nook as two masked guests walked past, their laughing brittle. He pressed a finger to his lips. I could feel his breath on my cheek, warm and uneven.
“You still wear the perfume I gave you,” he whispered.
“Coincidence,” I lied.
“Liar,” he whispered again, the word sliding over my skin like heat.
I shoved him back gently. “Focus. You said someone wants me gone. Who?”
He paused, then said, “A man named Veyron.”
The name sent a shock through me. “The host?”
He nodded. “And not just him. People higher than him. They think you're at a loose end.”
“But why?”
“Because you know too much,” he said. “Even if you don’t realize it yet.”
“What do I know?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” he said grimly.
We reached the stairs door. My hand shook on the knob. “Once I go through, will you still follow?”
“I said I would.”
“I’m afraid,” I admitted softly.
His eyes softened for the first time that night. “So am I.”
The honesty in his voice cracked something open in me.
I turned away quickly, pushing the door.
The stairwell was empty to empty. No hum of kitchen staff, no clatter of trays. Just silence.
Then a low click echoed from below.
Adrian grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “Move.”
Before I could speak, a person stepped out from the darkness at the bottom of the stairs, face hidden, a silenced gun in his hand.
Adrian shoved me behind him. “Run when I say,” he whispered.
The gun lifted, the barrel glinting under the emergency light.
I swallowed a scream. “Who is he?”
Adrian’s jaw clenched. “Someone I hoped you’d never meet.”
The man took a step up.
Adrian whispered again, “When I moverun.”
I clutched the rail, heart pounding. “And if you don’t?”
He didn’t answer.
The man raised the gun higher.
The hammer fell with a sharp crack, booming through the sale hall like a gunshot. The premium name was mine. The room clapped, but under the polite noise I could feel a storm rising.
From across the aisle he stared at me, maskless this time, his jaw clenched.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” his eyes seemed to say.
The lights sparkled off crystal chandeliers, the air heavy with perfume and money. Bidders muttered behind their paddles, but all I could hear was my own beating and his slow measured breathing somewhere in the crowd.
When the host declared my company the winner, I stood. My smile was cool and practiced. “Thank you,” I said, though my voice shook. “We look forward to bringing new life to the brand.”
From the back of the room his voice cut through the polite claps. “Congratulations.”
It wasn’t a praise.
I turned. “You were bidding too?”
“Of course,” he said, stepping closer. “It was mine until you decided to play.”
“I didn’t play. I won.”
He leaned near, so only I could hear. “This is not a game you want to win.”
I lifted my chin. “Business is business. You taught me that.”
“And you learned too well,” he whispered. “You’ve just put a target on your back.”
“I’ve lived with worse,” I said.
“You think so,” he answered softly. “But the men you outbid tonight they don’t forgive.”
“Neither do I,” I said.
His mouth curved in something like pain. “So it’s war then?”
“If it has to be.”
The host announced a short break. Guests spilled into the marble entrance, chatting about champagne and handbags. I stayed sitting, breathing slowly.
He stayed standing, hands behind his back like a soldier. “You knew this brand was the key to my expansion.”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s why I took it.”
“Revenge?” he asked.
“Survival,” I said. “You once left me with nothing. I built this company to protect myself.”
He studied me, eyes dark. “And yet you still walk into my rooms, into my city, wearing my scent.”
“It’s just perfume,” I said.
“It’s history,” he whispered.
He slid into the seat beside me. The closeness made my skin tighten. “Listen,” he said. “What you did tonight's not just about me. There are others at this table. Veyron, his backers. You’ve embarrassed them.”
“They’ll recover,” I said.
“No,” he answered. “They’ll retaliate.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m warning you,” he said. “Again.”
I met his eyes. “Then tell me who sent that man with the gun last night.”
His jaw locked. “I’m still finding out.”
“Liar,” I whispered.
He didn’t deny it.
A waiter passed with a metal tray. On it lay a folded card addressed to me. My stomach tightened.
I opened it under the table.
Four words in block print: You shouldn’t have done that.
The same words he had just spoken.
I looked up sharply. He was looking at the card too, face unreadable.
“Is this you?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “Show me.”
I handed it over. He studied the words, then cursed under his breath. “They’re moving faster than I thought.”
“Who?”
“People you don’t want to meet.”
“Too late,” I said. “I already have.”
He slid the card into his pocket. “We’re leaving.”
“I’m staying,” I said.
“Stubborn as always,” he grumbled. “Then at least stay where I can see you.”
“I’m not your responsibility.”
“That’s not how they see it,” he said.
“Then how do they see it?”
He leaned close. “They think you’re leveraged.”
- Writer
