Page 32 of Auctioned Innocence
“Distinguished guests,” her voice purrs through the room, warm with promise. “Welcome to The Gilded Rose’s summer selection. For those joining us for the first time, a reminder of our rules. Look, but do not touch. Questions are welcome, but directly to me, not to the merchandise. Private viewings can be arranged for serious buyers following the preview.”
She surveys the room, making eye contact with each potential buyer.
Her gaze lingers on me a moment longer than the others.
“We begin tonight’s preview with a very special offering. One that quite literally fell into our hands through a fortuitous connection.”
My heart stops.
Sofia appears in the doorway, escorted by two guards.
They’ve put her in something blue and floating, the color of a summer sky, the fabric moving around her elegantly.
Subtle makeup enhances rather than masks her youth, the effect deliberately innocent.
She holds her head high, but I know her tells.
The slight tremor in her hands.
The too-straight line of her spine.
The way her right foot turns slightly inward when she’s forcing herself not to run.
She’s terrified but refusing to show it.
Pride and rage war in my chest as they lead her onto the platform.
Madame Rouge circles her like a shark, one red-tipped finger occasionally adjusting Sofia’s hair or the fall of her dress, each touch a deliberate violation.
“Impeccable breeding, as you can see,” Madame continues, her voice taking on the cadence of an auctioneer. “Educated at New York’s finest schools. Fluent in Italian and English, with working knowledge of Spanish. Computer expertise that could prove quite…valuable for those with specific business interests.”
She stops behind Sofia, hands resting lightly on her shoulders.
Sofia doesn’t flinch, though I see the cost of that control in the tightness around her eyes.
“And of course, the connection to certain influential families makes her particularly…valuable. Imagine the uses for a girl with such intimate knowledge of one of New York’s most prominent business dynasties.”
I force myself to look at her the way the others do.
To nod appreciatively at the right moments.
To make notes in my leather portfolio while my heart screams.
Every instinct demands I tear through the room, grab her, and shoot anyone who tries to stop us.
But that would get us both killed and leave the other girls to their fate.
Patience, I remind myself. Calculation. Precision. The very skills that make me effective at my job are the ones I need now.
“Turn, my dear,” Madame Rouge instructs, and Sofia obeys, rotating slowly as if on display at a pageant.
The dress is backless, exposing the delicate line of her spine. I see a small bruise at the base of her neck—someone handled her roughly during the abduction—and the pen in my hand snaps in two.
Then Sofia completes her turn, and her eyes meet mine across the room.
For one heartbeat, recognition flares in those dark depths.
I see her pupils dilate, her lips part slightly on an indrawn breath.
