Page 7 of Branded

When she returns, there is no trembling, no hesitation. She drops the satin robe and stands there in nothing but black lace and sheer mesh that barely qualifies as coverage.

The room goes silent.

She is devastating, and utterly unbothered. She’s standing there like a queen surveying peasants, like she is doing them a favor by allowing them to look.

Arrogant. Fearless. Everything I’ve been looking for without knowing it.

“Let’s start the bidding at five hundred thousand,” the auctioneer announces.

Hands shoot up immediately.

“Five hundred!”

“Six hundred thousand!”

“Seven fifty!”

I watch the bids climb. I need to be patient. These men are amateurs. Throwing out numbers to look impressive, thinking money alone will win them something they don’t deserve.

“One million!” Someone in the third row, fat fingers glittering with gold rings.

The room quiets for a moment. Most lots went for six to eight hundred thousand. Only the truly exceptional ones break a million.

Lennox doesn’t react. Doesn’t even blink.

“One point two!” Another voice, younger. Tech money, probably.

“One point five!” The fat man again, becoming aggressive.

They think they can have her, think their money makes them worthy of owning something so rare.

“One point eight million!” The tech kid, sounding triumphant.

I let the silence stretch. Let him think he’s won.

Then I lean forward slightly, just enough for my voice to carry clearly through the ballroom.

“Two million.”

The room goes dead quiet.

Every head turns toward me. I can feel their shock, their recognition. Sebastian Drake doesn’t participate in these auctions. Everyone knows that.

Until now.

The auctioneer recovers first, his smile widening. “Two million from Mr. Drake. Going once…”

No one else bids. They won’t dare. Not against me, not in my own building, not when I’m making it clear I want her.

“Going twice…”

I keep my eyes on Lennox. She finally looks away from the back wall, scanning the darkness, trying to see who just bought her. Trying to see me.

She stares to where my voice came from, but it’s too dark beyond the stage to see further than the first few rows.

And I smile.

“Sold!” The gavel comes down with a sharp crack. “Lot number seven goes to Mr. Sebastian Drake for two million dollars.”