Page 139 of Beautiful Exile

Quentin raised his paddle. “Ten thousand.”

The crowd murmured.

“We have a serious player in our midst, ladies and gentlemen. Ten thousand. Do I hear eleven?”

I raised my paddle. “Twenty-five.”

Fallon let out a squeak behind me as the auctioneer’s brows rose. “Twenty-five thousand. Do I hear twenty-six?”

Annoyance flashed in Quentin’s dark eyes. “Fifty.”

Arden’s cheeks flushed as she wound her fingers together, glancing nervously at her painting. I knew this one was special to her. To us. And I wasn’t about to let Arison get his dirty little fingers on it.

“One hundred,” I called with a raise of my paddle.

“One hundred thousand,” the auctioneer called. “Do I hear one hundred and one?”

“One hundred five,” Quentin called. He was losing steam, and it was time for me to go in for the kill.

I didn’t wait for the auctioneer; I simply raised my paddle again. “One fifty.”

The auctioneer grinned. “One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Do I hear one fifty-one?”

Quentin dropped his paddle like a toddler having a tantrum. “She’s not even worth twenty,” he spat.

Anger surged inside me as Quentin stormed out of the gallery.She. Not the painting but the woman herself. He thought he could own Arden. But Arden wasn’t a possession. She was a human being, one that could never be contained, one that lived fully only when she lived freely.

Benny leaned out the gallery’s doorway, calling after Quentin, “See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya, buddy!”

The entire crowd burst into laughter as Benny’s dad scrubbed a hand over his face. The auctioneer saluted Benny and then turned back to the rest of us. “One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Going once, twice, sold to the gentleman in pink.”

“It’s mauve,” I called back, the crowd descending into laughter again.

Arden leaned in to thank the auctioneer and then made a beeline to me. “What is wrong with you?”

“Duck and cover,” Kye whispered.

Arden sent him a quick glare before turning back to me. “You bought every piece!”

“I did.”

“Why? To play in some dick-measuring contest with a douchebag?”

“Ooooh, now that could be a fun game,” Lolli interjected before someone hushed her.

“You said you hated the idea of your art being in his possession,” I told her honestly.

Arden gaped at me, her mouth forming that perfect O. “So, you spent half a million dollars on things I would’ve given you for free?”

I moved into her space, my hands lifting to frame her face. “I’d spend every last dime if it meant you having ownership of your work. And it’s a hell of a bonus that I’ll live surrounded by your creations—byyou—every single day.”

“Linc,” she whispered.

“Love you, Vicious.”

“Love you, you over-the-top, ridiculous, alpha-male billionaire control freak.”

I grinned down at her. “You say the sweetest things.”

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