Her outfit—a scanty blue sequined two-piece—caught the dim amber lights and refracted them into shards that danced across the walls.
She lifted her chin, eyes scanning the crowd. Her lips were pressed tight.
Numbers flew from a million upwards, the bids climbing faster than his pulse. "Well, fuck!" Luca muttered under his breath. His hands itched. Every instinct he had told him to walk away, to calculate, to leave this absurd display for someone else.
This girl was supposed to be nothing to him. Someone with nothing to offer him. And yet…
His lips moved before his brain could even process the insanity. "Ten million dollars!" he growled the amount out.
The room fell silent for a heartbeat. Then came the groans of disappointment from the other men, their pride stung, their hands lowering in reluctant resignation.
"Ten million dollars! Going once!" the auctioneer barked.
"Going twice!" he added.
"Sold," the auctioneer finally cried, "to the gentleman at the back!"
