Page 61 of Auctioned Innocence
But they suspect.
Around the table, breakfast conversation continues—discussions of stock portfolios and property investments that serve as thin cover for the real reason we’re all here.
I contribute occasionally, maintaining Dmitri’s persona while observing the shifting dynamics.
The Saudi prince and the hedge fund manager are clearly aligned, their body language suggesting prior acquaintance.
The Japanese businessman keeps checking his watch, nervous or impatient.
And Viktor hasn’t taken his eyes off me for more than seconds at a time.
“The auction begins at eight this evening,” Madame Rouge announces as servers clear away the breakfast dishes. “Until then, please enjoy our hospitality. The spa facilities are at your disposal, and of course, some of our merchandise will be available for private viewing, for serious buyers only.”
My fork clatters against fine China, the only outward sign of my internal reaction.
Private viewing.
Sofia.
The opportunity I’ve been waiting for—direct contact, another chance to prepare her, to ensure she’s ready for tonight’s extraction.
“I have interest,” Viktor says immediately, leaning forward. “The Italian girl. The spirited one.”
Of fucking course.
Of all the girls, he’d want Sofia.
The most valuable.
The most defiant.
The one connected to a well-connected family.
“Funny,” I force out, meeting his gaze directly. “Had same request.”
Madame Rouge’s smile is pure poison as she looks between us. “Perhaps you gentlemen could view together? Compare perspectives?”
A test. She suspects something and is using Viktor to confirm her suspicions. Putting us together would force my hand, reveal whatever connection might exist.
“Honor,” I say carefully, letting Dmitri’s smile show too many teeth. A predator recognizing another predator’s territory. “Though prefer first viewing…private.”
“Of course.” She gestures to a guard hovering near the door. “Prepare Miss Renaldi. Mr. Volkov will have the first hour.”
Viktor’s face darkens, the mask of civility slipping to reveal the ruthlessness beneath. “I traveled long way?—”
“And you’ll wait longer,” I cut in, standing.
Pure ice now.
Pure threat.
The kind of dominance play that Dmitri Volkov would make without hesitation.
“Some merchandise worth patience, yes?”
Another long moment of tension.
I can almost see Viktor weighing his options, calculating whether this is a battle worth fighting now or better saved for later.
