Not far away, Lena stood frozen in her black cocktail dress, eyes wide as she stared at Bradley’s retreating back.
Suddenly, her phone slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a sharp crack.
Her lips trembled. “When did he… get to Heston?”
…
Inside the auction hall, the five seats in the front row reserved for VIPs stood out unmistakably.
Darren had booked three; Bradley, two.
Xena was half-reclined against Darren’s chest. He forced himself to ignore the discomfort, glancing sidelong at Charlotte.
He caught sight of Bradley bending to lift Charlotte carefully onto a velvet sofa. With a chilling sneer, Darren muttered, “People like her belong in a hospital, not here.”
Charlotte didn’t bother to reply.
Once she was settled, Bradley straightened his cuffs with an easy smile. “And rowdy drunks—should they spend the night in jail?”
Darren stiffened, a flash of anger in his eyes. The memory of last night’s drunken outburst—storming into Bradley’s apartment in a rage—hit him hard. Even this morning, when his bodyguard relayed the details, Darren could hardly believe it himself.
He tugged at his tie, his expression growing darker.
Suddenly, the hall fell silent as the auctioneer’s ceremonious voice echoed, “The first piece tonight: a traditional painting, ‘Merchant’s Daughter.’ Opening bid, fifty thousand.”
Darren was here for only one thing: the legendary Haimo Blue diamond. The rest of the offerings held no interest for him.
But a moment later, he heard Bradley lean toward Charlotte and say softly, “If you see something you like, just tell me. I’ll get it for you.”
Darren’s eyes narrowed. He raised his paddle. “I’ll take it—no matter the bid.”
The hall went dead quiet.
Everyone knew what that meant—Darren’s words guaranteed he’d win, no matter what anyone else offered.
But for such a minor, unknown painting? Why make such a scene?
“Next piece…”
“I’ll take it.”


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