"I know. You're too controlling for that." She patted my arm. "But nothing says you can't bid on someone else. Whatever you’re into."
I looked around the ballroom again, seeing it differently now. Not a Valentine's nightmare, but an opportunity. A room full of women who wouldn't expect me to be gentle. Who wouldn't want promises I couldn't keep or romance I didn't have time for. Women who understood that some things were best negotiated in the dark.
"When is this happening?"
"Valentine’s Eve. The night you have alone with her will be Saturday night. Valentine's Day. Black tie. Very exclusive." She was already texting someone. "I'll put you on the list. VIP section, so you can see who you want before the auction starts. See who catches your eye. Maybe you’ll find one or two who can help you figure all this out."
"And if none of them do?"
Gianna looked up at me, her expression softening into something almost sympathetic.
"Then you have eleven more months to find someone Papa will accept." She squeezed my hand. "But Dez? Try to find someone you don't completely hate. It'll make the breeding part a lot easier."
I left her to her decorating, my mind already racing.
One night. That's all this auction promised. One night with someone who wouldn't flinch from what I wanted. Who might even want it too. It wasn't a solution to my problem. But it was a start.
Dez
Friday arrived faster than I expected. I stood in the VIP section of the ballroom now transformed into something between a Venetian fantasy and a fever dream as I watched the crowd filter in.
Everyone wore masks.
Gianna's idea, naturally. She'd decided that a traditional masquerade would add an element of mystery to the evening. "More fun when you don't know who you're bidding on until after," she'd said with that wicked smile of hers. "Makes people braver. More honest."
I adjusted my own mask—black leather, simple, covering the upper half of my face—and surveyed the results of her planning. The ballroom was draped in deep burgundy and gold, candles flickering on every surface, creating shadows that danced like the bodies on the dance floor. Crystal chandeliers had been dimmed to create intimacy. The stage at the front was set up likesomething from an old European opera house, complete with velvet curtains, read for the auction.
Gianna had been right about the guest list. These weren't uppity people who showed up to mob events hoping to catch some rich desperate victim’s attention. They moved differently. Carried themselves with confidence and hunger mixed with something darker.
I nursed my whiskey and waited. The auction wouldn't start for another hour. Time to circulate, to observe, and to hunt. I scanned the crowd, looking for... something. I'd know it when I saw it. Instead I was met with a bunch of women whose presence was either too much or too little. Slutty or conservatively boring. I didn’t know what the perfect person would look like, but I did know what it didn’t. Completely sold that whoever she was, she wasn’t here.
Until…
She stood near the back wall, alone, champagne glass in hand. While everyone else clustered near the stage, preening and positioning themselves, she held herself apart. Watching. Thinking.
Her mask was gold and intricate with delicate filigree that made her look like a gilded goddess. It covered her eyes and the bridge of her nose but left her mouth bare, and what a mouth it was. Full lips painted deep red, curved in the faintest hint of amusement as she observed the crowd.
Her dress was midnight blue silk that clung to curves that made my mouth go dry. Black hair swept up to expose the elegant line of her neck, a few tendrils framed her face.
But it was the way she held herself that captivated me. That perfect posture of hers warring with the wonder in her eyes. The way her gaze tracked across the room like she was cataloging everything, filing it away for later consideration.
She was looking for something. Maybe someone. Before I fully registered the decision, I was moving toward her, drawn by an instinct I didn't question. She didn't notice me until I was close enough to speak.
"Not a fan of the entertainment?"
She turned, and even with the mask covering half her face, I felt the impact of her gaze and it drew me closer.
"I prefer my objectification a little less literal," she said, her voice warm and cultured with the faintest hint of seduction underneath.
Fuck even her voice was perfect.
"Fair enough." I moved to stand beside her, close enough to catch her scent—vanilla and something sweet with a bite. I hated when women smelled like fruit and cake flavors. This was warmer, darker, and a little spicy but so damn feminine. "Although I suppose there's something refreshingly honest about it. No pretense. Just raw transaction."
"Is that what you're here for?" She turned to face me fully, tilting her head. "A transaction?"
"Depends on what's being offered."
"And what would it take to interest you?" The question was light, teasing, but there was real curiosity underneath. I liked the playfulness in her tone, and the challenge she presented without underlined feigned innocence.
