Chapter Two
Lucian
I’ve never let my emotions rule my thoughts.
Especially when it comes to my father’s despicable auction house. I’ve made it known how distasteful I find his business of selling girls to his perverted clients. Over the years, I’ve ignored this part of the establishment, steeling myself from feeling petty emotions like empathy and compassion as I watch young women being sold to the highest bidder.
It’s a way of not giving my father the upper hand over me. We both know where we stand in the organization, and I act like I’m not bothered by his evil trade. Interfering would be considered a sign of weakness, one that he wouldn’t hesitate to exploit.
For now, I have to bide my time—until the moment comes for me to show my hand.
But tonight, as I watch from my usual corner, the most angelic woman I’ve ever seen walks onto the stage. The first thing that grabs my attention is the red killer heels she’s wearing. They clack against the stage, drawing my gaze to her long legs that go on forever. I move my eyes higher until they land on the mesh green dress that hits her upper thighs, showing off her honeyed skin.
My gaze travels up the dress, along her curves, until I’m staring into gorgeous blue eyes. Those eyes widen at the spectacle before her, stirring my protective instincts.
Blood rushes in my veins, and my always-calm heart instantly loses control. Excited chatter and murmurs rise from the crowd at her arrival. I should leave her to her fate, tell myself that there’s nothing I can do, just like I have with every other pitiful girl who has climbed onto this stage and gone home with a sick bastard, but something holds me back.
A staggering weight of pain fills those eyes, and as Kirk announces the starting bid, my eyes remain fastened on hers. My usually detached demeanor is fast unraveling as I watch her battle the pain.
My gut tightens with anger as I listen to the bids flying around. Can these selfish bastards not see she’s in pain?
“One million,” a voice calls out.
I clench my jaw hard, grinding my teeth, the ache stabbing at my temples. I want to rescue her from their grubby hands and keep her all to myself, but I’m reminded of my father’s involvement in everything that goes on in this chapel.
Though my father doesn’t often show his face here—preferring to keep his public profile clean—he still controls most of the operations. He stays behind the scenes, but there are cameras everywhere, and I know he watches everything that goes on here. Most of the employees are loyal to him.
I can’t risk my plans, even for a blue-eyed angel who makes me feel… something for the first time in my entire existence.
Bids continue to pour in, but suddenly her eyes meet mine and the world and everything in it seems to fade away. I feel a crack in my chest, and the walls around my heart seem to shudder, threatening to fall.
Fuck!
I pick up my glass of brandy and slowly down it, still holding her gaze. I have to keep my turbulent emotions in check, hiding them behind my cold and indifferent gaze, but she doesn’t move her eyes away. Neither do I.
It’s as if a strong force is drawing us together, and it’s not letting go. She wobbles on her feet, and I find myself standing, setting the glass on the low table before me. I don’t think. Not about the consequences, or the fact that I’m playing right into my father’s hand.
My feet move of their own accord, silent and hurried. She’s all that matters. Weakness be damned.
The room gradually goes silent as they notice me moving toward the stage, and I reach the front in long strides, my heart racing hard. There’s no time to examine this feeling or the meaning behind it. The only words that keep ringing in my mind are: I have to get to her.
And that’s what I do, hurriedly climbing onto the stage and stretching out my arms just in time to catch her swaying body. I hold her close, taking in her oval face. Her long lashes rest beautifully against the soft skin beneath them, and just beneath her right eye is a tiny mole.
Without warning, the last bit of defense around my heart crumbles like a house of cards, rendering me helpless to the surge of emotions that rush up at me. I wrap a hand around her waist and tug her upright, pulling her body against mine as my other hand tenderly cups the back of her head.
The feel of her soft curves, flush against my body, sends blood rushing to my cock. The scent of honey and spice tickles my nostrils, and pleasure stabs at my gut. There’s no need to be on the stage anymore. I’ve staked my claim on her. I raise my head to see Kirk dart a look of panic to the audience and then at me before closing the space between us.
“Mr. Devereaux,” he says, mustering a slick smile. “Thank you for your quick reflexes and catching item number one in time. Once the bid is concluded, I’ll have her sent to her buyer’s car.”
I stare him down, my fingers flexing angrily on her waist as I talk myself out of planting a fist in his face. Kirk is loyal to my father. And while he might know that I normally avoid getting involved with this side of the business, he certainly doesn’t know about the case I’m building against my father. I would be acting out of character if I give in to the violence brimming inside me.
I watch in satisfaction as he takes a step back, his eyes dilating with fear. In that moment, I know with a cold precision that I will decimate anyone who puts their filthy hands on my angel.
“No more bidding. She’s mine,” I declare, making sure to let my voice reach the audience.
I hear shocked gasps as I shift my arm to curl more tightly around her waist. Loud complaints rise from the crowd, and I hear someone object. “You can’t just claim her without bidding for her. That’s not how it’s done here.”
Murmurs of agreement follow his words. Cold seeps into my lungs at the demanding voice, and my gaze hardens until it’s devoid of emotion. At this point, I don’t give a shit that I’m behaving irrationally because of her. I’m so far gone that I don’t even mind losing to my father.
I shift my gaze to the audience. “And who’s going to stop me?” I ask with derision, my brows arched.
The crowd hesitates, and then: “I’ll pay five million to buy her from you, Devereaux,” the same voice declares.
“I’ll pay fifty million,” I say with an air of finality.
Silence reigns.
I gently pick her up in my arms, one arm supporting her back and one under her knees. She sighs softly, her warm breath tickling my skin as she presses her face against me. Her arms curl around my neck as if they belong there, and somehow it makes me happy.
Kirk watches me wide-eyed, his mouth open like a fish trapped on dry land. I turn from him in dismissal and climb down from the stage, walking out of the huge chapel. The guard standing beside the huge column of the entryway steps aside to let me pass.
“Mr. Devereaux,” he says with a sharp nod.
“Marcus,” I reply with a brisk nod, not changing my stride. He falls into step beside me and opens the door as I get to the main entrance. “Thanks.”
I head out into the night, the darkness pulling me into its embrace. Light from the chapel reflects dimly into the parking lot, and I make a beeline for my black SUV. She stirs softly in my arms just as I reach the car. Opening the passenger door and gently placing her in the seat, I strap her in with the seat belt. Then I round the car and take a seat beside her.
She moans softly, and I watch her blink her eyes open and slowly take in her new surroundings. Her eyes meet mine in the dark confines of the car.
“Don’t be scared,” I assure her softly. “My name is Lucian Devereaux. What’s your name?”
“Elena,” she says, her voice hoarse.
Her brows bunch and her eyes stay unwavering on mine. “Where are you taking me?” she asks weakly.
I can’t help it. I reach out and tenderly stroke her black hair. “Don’t worry, angel. You’re safe now,” I whisper into the quiet car. “We’re going home.”
I know I can’t let her go.