"After you," I say.
She walks through the door.
I follow.
Callum is waiting by the car in the circular drive.
A black Mercedes S-Class. Bulletproof glass. Encrypted communications.
The kind of car that announces you have enemies worth protecting against.
He opens the back door without a word.
Eden hesitates.
"Get in," I say quietly.
She does.
Slides across the leather seat, presses herself against the far door like she's trying to maximize the distance between us.
I slide in after her, settle in the middle seat.
Not quite touching her, but close.
Callum closes the door and gets in the driver's seat.
"Home, sir?"
"Yes."
The car pulls away from the mansion.
Down the long driveway toward the private dock where my boat waits.
Eden is staring out the window, watching the mansion disappear behind us.
"You won't find anything useful to remember," I tell her. "The location changes every year. And even if you somehow made it back here, it would be empty."
She doesn't respond. Just keeps staring.
"The Consortium is very careful about security," I continue. "No one knows where the next auction will be held until a week before. Invitations are hand-delivered. Locations are wiped clean after each event."
Still nothing.
I study her profile.
The delicate line of her jaw.
The way her hair falls over her shoulder.
She's even more beautiful up close, but it's not the beauty that captivates me.
It's the intelligence in her eyes.
The way she's already planning.
Calculating. Looking for weaknesses.
