Page 33 of Auctioned Innocence
A flush of color rises to her cheeks, hope breaking through the mask of compliance.
She sees me—not Dmitri Volkov with his gray temples and cold smile, butme. Dante.
The man who promised to protect her and failed.
I give the smallest shake of my head, a warning only she would recognize.
She starts to move—an aborted step forward, hand lifting as if to reach for me—then catches herself.
Her recovery is flawless.
If I hadn’t been watching so intently, I might have missed it.
The emotion vanishes behind the same blank mask she wore before, her eyes sliding past me as if I’m just another buyer, another threat.
Clever girl.
But that moment of eye contact nearly breaks me.
In that split second of recognition, I see everything she’s trying to hide.
The fear.
The trust.
The silent plea.
The stubborn determination that makes her Sofia, makes her the woman who’s occupied my thoughts for longer than I care to admit.
She’s holding on.
Fighting in her own way.
Waiting for a chance.
And she knows she’s not alone anymore.
I want to tear the room apart.
Want to put a bullet in every person who dares look at her.
Want to burn the whole place down with Madame Rouge inside it.
I need to carry Sofia away from this nightmare and never let her out of my sight again.
Instead, I make another note in my portfolio, the replacement pen moving across paper with perfect control while chaos rages inside me. I raise an eyebrow at my neighbor’s whispered comment about “young Italian beauty.” Force my features to stay arranged in Dmitri’s mask of cold interest.
“The bidding will begin at five million,” Madame Rouge announces, one hand resting possessively on Sofia’s shoulder. “Though we expect the final price to be…significantly higher. This one has particular value to certain parties, as I’m sure you understand.”
I allow myself a small smile.
Oh, there won’t be any bidding, I think, watching Sofia being led away.
She glances back once, just before reaching the door, her eyes finding mine with unerring clarity.
In that look is something I’ve never seen from her before—not just trust or hope, but absolute certainty.
She believes I’ll save her.
