Chapter 28 THE AUCTION
Eli’s POV
“Black. Clean. And don’t make me wait.”
Those were his instructions.
So I put on a black outfit.
And he barely spared me a glance before we left, I could've sworn he wouldn't notice if I didn't wear black.
We drove into the city, the lights getting brighter and colder the deeper we went. When the car finally stopped, I stared out at a building so sleek and modern it didn’t even look like a place humans lived or worked in. No signs. No logos. Just glass and steel and shadows.
Julian stepped out without a word.
I followed.
Inside, the elevator was guarded by two men with earpieces who scanned Julian’s face, and then scanned me, like I could be a weapon.
Julian placed a hand, possessively, on the small of my back.
The elevator descended instead of rising, humming past level after level until it opened into something that looked like the lobby of a palace.
Gold. White. Mirrors.
People in dresses worth more than my life.
Men in suits with smiles that never reached their eyes.
The air smelled like money and danger.
Julian walked straight through like he’d been born here. Like he belonged here.
I, on the other hand…
I felt like a stray dog someone dragged into a ballroom.
People turned to look.
Not at Julian.
At me.
Some eyes widened like they were seeing a novelty.
Some narrowed with confusion.
Some lingered with pity so sharp it made my neck feel hot.
I wanted to sink into the floor.
But Julian’s hand stayed on my back, faint pressure beneath the fabric; constant, cool, and firm.
A reminder to behave well because we're in public.
We took our seats in a private box overlooking a stage draped in velvet. The atmosphere felt too quiet and too expectant.
Julian didn’t speak to me.
He didn’t even look at me… I'm convinced he still doesn't know the colour I'm wearing. I should have worn anything other than black.
He adjusted on his seat, legs crossed, one hand resting on the armrest, the image of calm wealth and contained violence.
When the dim lights shifted and a woman stepped onto the stage with a microphone, the room buzzed with interest.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she purred, “welcome to tonight’s exclusive collection.”
People leaned forward.
I leaned back.
My skin prickled; like this place wasn’t meant for someone like me. Like the walls themselves were whispering you don’t belong here.
Julian seemed to be extra vigilant. And I somehow knew that this wasn’t leisure for him. He was hunting.
Hunting for what I didn’t know.
But the tension around him made me feel like prey, not company.
Items were brought out: rare art, antique firearms, a diamond that looked almost fake because of how unreal it seemed. People raised paddles casually, like spending millions was nothing.
Julian made a few bids with minimal effort. A lift of his fingers. A nod.
I didn’t understand why he wanted any of these things.
I didn’t ask.
I’ve learned not to ask.
Halfway through the event, I excused myself to get some air. Or pretend to get air. Really, I just needed a moment where Julian’s presence wasn’t suffocating me.
But the moment I reached the hallway…
“Eli.” Someone called out with an almost familiar voice.
I turned, only to find Desmond standing, leaning casually against the wall, dressed in a charcoal suit that looked tailored specifically to draw attention. He smiled, slow and knowing, as if he’d been waiting for me.
“Good to see you again,” he said lightly. “Enjoying the show?”
My throat tightened. “I… y-yeah. I guess.”
“You guess?” He chuckled, stepping closer. “You still look like you’ve wandered into the wrong building. Just like the first time.”
I stiffened. “I’m not—”
“Relax,” he interrupted. “I’m not here to bite.”
But the glint in his eyes said otherwise.
Before I could respond, he tilted his head, studying my face with too much familiarity. Then he smiled wider.
“So…”
His voice dropped, sly and pointed.
“Did you get the package?”
Everything inside me went still.
My heartbeat.
My breath.
My thoughts.
I stared at him, unable to hide the raw shock.
Because he said it so casually.
Like asking if I received a postcard.
So he's the sender of the package.
Desmond’s smile sharpened just a fraction.
“Judging by your expression, I’d say yes.”
My fingers curled at my sides. “Why—why would you send something like that?”
“Don’t look so tense,” he murmured. “It was simply a message.”
“With a bullet in it,” I whispered. “And a picture of me as a kid. And—and a threat.”
“A message,” he corrected. “Not a threat. I like clarity, unlike your husband.”
My stomach twisted.
“What do you want from me?”
Desmond leaned in slightly, close enough that I could smell his cologne.
“Oh, Eli,” he murmured. “I don’t want anything from you. Not yet.”
Not yet? What the fuck is wrong with these rich men?
Before he could say anything else, I felt a presence behind me: a quiet, heavy shadow that pressed against my spine.
Julian.
His hand slid to the small of my back again.
This time the grip wasn’t light. It was tight, possessive, and borderline painful.
Desmond’s eyes flicked to Julian and his smile didn’t falter, but something in it cooled.
“Julian,” Desmond said smoothly. “Always a pleasure.”
Julian didn’t return the greeting. He just stared. Unmoving, and dead calm.
A silence like a blade stretched between them.
Desmond’s gaze dropped to where Julian’s hand rested on me and his smile deepened, as if he found it amusing.
“I see you brought your… spouse.”
He said the word like a joke only he understood.
Julian finally spoke: “Step away from him.” And it was more of a command than a threat.
Desmond arched a brow. “Or what?”
Julian didn’t raise his voice.
“When I’m done with you, Desmond,” he said quietly, “there won’t be enough pieces left for a funeral.”
Desmond’s smile remained in place, but his eyes chilled.
“Always so dramatic,” he murmured. “It’s good to see some things never change.”
He gave me one last glance— sharp, thoughtful, too aware— then walked off into the gold-lit crowd as if nothing had happened.
Julian didn’t move until Desmond disappeared completely.
Then his grip on my back tightened. Harder.
I winced. “Julian—”
“Stay beside me,” he said, voice low and controlled. “Don’t wander.”
We returned to the private box, but my mind barely registered the rest of the auction. My pulse wouldn’t slow. My skin felt too tight. My thoughts spiraled around one thing:
What is it with this Desmond guy?
What do I owe him?
What does he know?
About me.
About Julian.
About everything.
And worse—
He wasn’t afraid.
He delivered a threat to Julian's doorstep, for me.
So he clearly isn't afraid of Julian or any consequences.
As the final item sold and applause rippled lightly through the room, I sat stiff beside Julian, feeling the weight of the invisible chains around my wrists tighten.
Desmond sent the package.
Desmond wants something.
Desmond isn’t done.
And whatever game Julian, Desmond and whoever they think is my father, are playing…
I’m the one stuck in the middle of it, and it's not like I can negotiate my way out because these people are insane.