|Draven's POV|
The moment I raise my auction paddle, the entire room falls into hushed murmurs.
"Five million," I say, my voice cutting through the air like a blade.
Casmira grips my wrist. "Draven—"
I glance at her, offering a small smirk. "What? You didn't think I'd let another man put you on display in his private collection, did you?"
The auctioneer barely finishes announcing my bid before a smooth, accented voice calls from across the room.
"Seven million."
The air shifts. My jaw tightens.
I turn my head, scanning the crowd until I find the man who dared to challenge me.
Dark suit. Silver hair. A scar running down his left cheek.
The old bastard from Dubai Gryphon had mentioned?
No.
I know who he is.
Lazaro Veyron.
The name alone carries weight, heavier than most of the
