Page 8 of Auctioned Innocence
Christ, when did that happen?
I remember her at six, skinned knees and missing front teeth, following Marco and me around the estate with hero worship in her eyes.
At twelve, all gangly limbs and braces, fierce intelligence already shining through.
At sixteen, she started to change.
By nineteen, she was turning heads at family functions, making me notice for the first time how protectively angry I felt watching other men look at her.
And now…
Now she’s dangerous in ways that have nothing to do with the threats lurking outside.
Dangerous to my resolve.
To my control.
To the promises I’ve made.
“I’ll increase security,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. “Put extra men on her detail.”
“Already done. But I want you personally checking in too.” Marco’s expression darkens. “If the Calabreses are really behind these auctions…”
He doesn’t finish the thought.
Doesn’t have to.
The implications hang heavy in the air between us.
The Calabreses have a particular interest in the daughters of powerful families.
The higher the status, the sweeter the victory of taking them.
A Renaldi daughter would be the ultimate prize.
A burst of feminine laughter drifts in from the hallway.
It’s Sofia’s mother’s, but it sounds too much like Sofia’s.
My hands curl into fists at my sides as the memory of Sofia’s laugh wraps around me like silk.
Musical. Genuine.
Nothing like the polished, fake sounds that come from most women in our world.
Keep her safe, even from yourself.
The words echo in my head, Marco’s voice from three years ago when he caught me looking at Sofia a beat too long at her nineteenth birthday party.
The night I realized my feelings had shifted from protective to something far more complicated.
Something I had no right to feel, not when I was a just over a decade older than her.
But who’s going to keep me safe from her?
The memory of her on the terrace is still too fresh.
The way she’d looked up at me with those huge dark eyes, challenging me.
