Chapter 45 Chapter 45
Chapter 45
Nina’s POV
The champagne flute cracked in my hand like brittle bone. Golden liquid splashed across marble in shimmering arcs, pooling around my strappy heels. Heat roared through me humiliation, rage, old shame all crashing together until my vision tunneled.
I forced a breath. In. Out. Slow.
“I don’t even have anything to do with them anymore,” I said, voice low but steady enough to carry over the jazz. “You two deserve each other.”
Josh’s smirk widened, eyes gleaming behind the black leather mask. Amanda reached for my arm, silver mask tilting, but I jerked away.
I turned on my heel and walked—fast—skirt flaring, heels clicking sharp against the floor. The crowd parted like water around a blade. I needed air. Distance. Anything to stop the burning in my chest.
Josh’s voice followed, loud and oily. “Why won’t you calm down, the virgin Mary? When I fucked your best friend and bent her over the edge of my desk, she didn’t complain. She begged for more.”
The words hit like acid. I stopped. Turned.
Amanda spun on him, silver mask flashing under chandelier light. “Shut the fuck up, Josh. We never fucked. And who would even want to get down on your small dick?”
A startled laugh burst from my throat—sharp, involuntary. There she was. My best friend. The one who had always had my back, even when it cost her. For a single heartbeat the rage cracked, replaced by something almost warm.
But the anger surged back. She had still chosen him. Still stood beside him while he tore me open in front of strangers. I spun away again, walking faster, skirt whispering against my thighs.
“Nina! Hold on!” Amanda’s voice chased me. “I have something to tell you! Very important, Nina!”
Her customized 20,000 dollars twenty-thousand-dollar heels—those ridiculous crystal-encrusted Louboutins she had bragged about for months when her mom got her for her 18th birthday party clicked frantically behind me. She was running in them. Desperate.
I did not slow. I could not look at her. Not now. The alcohol buzzed in my veins, blurring edges, making the room tilt. I pushed through a cluster of masked guests, feathers brushing my bare arm, cigar smoke stinging my eyes. I needed the exit. The elevator. Out.
My shoulder clipped a velvet curtain. I stumbled forward onto smooth, raised wood.
The stage.
A collective gasp rippled through the room like wind through leaves.
I froze.
Slowly, I turned.
A massive pillar rose in the center of the platform—polished black marble veined with gold. Atop it sat what looked like a time bomb: sleek silver casing, red digital numbers frozen at zero, wires coiled like sleeping snakes. Spotlights pinned me in white fire.
A thousand masked faces stared up—government ministers, generals, diplomats, criminals—all silent, all watching.
My legs started shaking. The slit in the gown parted wider with every tremor, exposing more thigh than I wanted to show
. My nipples hardened against satin from cold fear, not arousal. The diamond chain pressed hot against my skin like a brand.
Before I could step back, a cranky voice boomed from the front row.
A chubby short man in a crimson tuxedo and peacock-feather mask stood, raising a black paddle. “Oh, this year has a playful surprise! Five hundred thousand dollars for the little thing!”
Laughter rippled.
Another man—tall, silver-haired, gold mask shaped like a lion—lifted his wand. “Two million dollars. And she becomes my sex toy for the evening.”
The crowd murmured approval.
A third stood—older, heavier, voice thick with drink. “Five million dollars. I want to fuck her right in front of everyone during the after-party of this sanguine. Those breasts look so ripe and sweeeet. A young blood will be good for an old soul.”
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it would crack them. Bile rose in my throat. The room spun—chandeliers blurring into streaks of light, champagne towers glittering like weapons.
Then Josh climbed the steps.
He moved with lazy confidence, black leather mask catching spotlights. He stopped beside me, close enough that I smelled his cologne—cheap, overpowering, the same one he wore the night he hurt me.
“She’s a slut,” he announced, voice carrying to every corner. “Pretends to be a virgin. Stupid girl.”
The crowd went wild. Cheers. Whistles. Paddles waving.
“I will pay seven million dollars to dis-virgin her right here!”
The words detonated.
Seven million. For me. On this stage. In front of them all.
My knees buckled. I caught the edge of the pillar for balance, fingers brushing cold metal of the bomb casing. The red numbers stayed frozen. Mocking.
Amanda rushed the steps, silver mask askew, heels slipping. “Stop! She’s not part of this! She’s not for sale!”
Josh laughed—low, cruel. “Too late, baby. She walked right into it.”
The auctioneer—a thin man in black tails and a skull mask—raised both hands for silence. “Bids are open. Current offer: seven million. Do I hear eight?”
Paddles shot up. Voices overlapped.
“Ten million!”
“Twelve!”
“Fifteen—and I want her masked face in the footage for my private collection!”
I could not breathe. The gown felt too tight, too thin, too exposing. Every eye stripped me further. My best friend stood frozen at the edge of the stage, tears streaking silver mascara down her cheeks.
From the shadows near the wings, a figure moved.
Nikolai.
Golden-hazel eyes locked on mine through the crowd. His jaw was set, fists clenched at his sides. Enzo flanked him—playful mask gone, replaced by cold fury.
But they were too far.
The bids climbed.
Twenty million.
Twenty-five.
The chubby man in crimson cackled. “Thirty! And I’ll make her scream my name for the cameras!”
My vision blurred. Tears burned behind the lace mask. The diamond chain dug into my skin like a promise I could no longer keep. Freedom had been so close. Now it was slipping away in increments of millions.
The auctioneer’s voice rose. “Thirty million going once…”
I closed my eyes.
The stage lights burned through my lids.
The crowd roared.
And somewhere in the chaos, a single voice—low, lethal, unmistakable—cut through the noise.
“Enough.” Nikolai said but then a voice came in sharply
“She will be mine forever,50 million dollars “