The numbers began to slow, five thousand so far.
Finally, it’s almost over.
To my surprise, a paddle went up.
Attached to the little numbered sign was Arkady.
My brows nearly creased together before I realized people were still watching.
Is he dragging this out on purpose?
More paddles went up, the auctioneer picking up excitement as the numbers rose. Each time they slowed, Arkady’s paddle would rise again. Another round of signs and chatter of excitement as the numbers rose. Again and again he would repeat, eyeing some of the bidders. I noticed the remaining bidders were only men.
It was then I understood.
They were bidding against Arkady for the fun of it.
If only they realized that Arkady didn’t care, not one bit, and he was playingthemlike fiddles. These men were brittle, fragile. Getting off on some odd display of dominance, of wealth, of reputation. Throwing money around for a quick ruse.
“Twelve thousand,” the auctioneer rang.
Once, twice, over.
It was over.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Performer
It was like the minute my heel hit the bottom of the stairs, I was snatched in an instant.
“Have you gained weight?” my mother hissed, pinching the side of the dress, then my arm, to test her hypothesis.
No response at all was better for mean-spirited interrogations.
The crowd dispersed around us. The staff tagged, moved, and prepared the art pieces for their intended destinations after the event. Félice and Cosette had already had their costumes changed so they could gather the dresses for the proud new owners.
“Come.” My mother dragged me toward the hallway, a spare dress draped over her arm. “We should get this off of you before you ruin it.”
“Petre.” Arkady grabbed my opposite arm.
My mother’s brow twitched, scrutinizing the interruption.
“Allow me, Mrs. De Villier,” he offered, a kind smile to pair with it. “You have been working so hard on such a stellar event, perhaps you should take time to enjoy it as much as everyone else.”
Her face contorted. First it was tense, then it relaxed into something more accepting. Her grip loosened on my arm, my skin red where hermanicured claws laid into me. She let out a bashful huff, smoothing imaginary stray hairs.
“I suppose you’re right.” She sighed happily, the beast pleased with his flattery. “But please use extra care when handling the dress.”
“I will handle her with great care.” Arkady smiled pleasantly, pulling me along before she could make any more requests.
“What are you doing?” I hissed at him.
“Undressing you. You really don’t listen to your surroundings, do you?”
We ducked into my father’s library study, the large door chittering as the new wood settled back into its place.
The room was exhausting to look at. Too claustrophobic, even when organized. Despite its craftsmanship, it still had the infant scent of linseed oil on the carpentry. The books were all new. Not one cracked spine, not one dog-eared page, not even the smell of well-aged paper.
