Page 12 of Auctioned Innocence
I meet his gaze steadily. “I know.”
“But?” Marco arches an eyebrow, clearly expecting me to say more.
“But nothing,” I press firmly. “I gave you my word years ago. Nothing’s changed.”
Everything’s changed.
Every day she grows more beautiful, more brilliant, more boldly herself.
Every day the walls I’ve built to contain my feelings develop new cracks.
Every day keeping my distance becomes a sweeter torture.
Marco seems to accept my answer, but something shifts in his eyes.
A new awareness, perhaps.
Or just renewed scrutiny.
“We should get back to the party,” he says finally. “Keep an eye out for anything unusual.”
I nod, falling into step beside him as we leave the study.
As we re-enter the main hall, my eyes automatically seek and find Sofia who has returned from upstairs and is now chatting with a group of younger guests.
She laughs at something someone says, and the sound cuts through the ambient noise like it’s wired directly to my nervous system.
She glances up, catching me looking.
Instead of the expected challenge or irritation, something vulnerable flashes across her face.
Something that makes me want to cross the room, clear everyone out of our path, and finish what we started on that terrace.
Marco clears his throat beside me.
I look away first.
I have a job to do. A promise to keep.
Even if it kills me.
And God help me, it just might.
3
SOFIA
I’m sprawled across my bed, scrolling through TikTok and trying not to laugh at some ridiculous dance trend.
The weak evening sun streams through my windows, painting golden patterns across the cream carpet.
Taylor Swift’s “Cruel Summer” plays softly in the background, just loud enough to fill the empty silence of the house.
Three weeks since that dinner party, and life has settled back into a deceptive normalcy—except for the increased security I’ve pretended not to notice.
The black SUVs parked three houses down that change position but never leave.
The gardeners with suspicious bulges under their jackets.
