5. Serena
Serena
The auction was buzzing, and all eyes were on me the second I walked in.
“Ms. King!” the attendant blurted out. He stumbled over his words before reaching out to hand me a paddle, which I quickly snatched. “Best of luck, Ms. King.”
“Luck isn’t needed.” I didn’t break my stride into the auction house.
I was up all night thinking of the auction. I had a meeting with Erik and Mama in a few days to report on King Developments’ most recent quarter, and I would be telling them that I’d acquired the best property on the market.
Winning this auction could be my leverage to demand more control, more resources from King Enterprises as a whole.
If I failed, the ripple effects would crush more than just my pride.
No. No. I couldn’t take this loss. I’d worked too damn hard for too many years to just have him slide in and take what was rightfully mine.
I couldn’t be soft today. When I got soft, I gave him my virginity. When I got soft, I gave him power.
They wanted a cold-hearted bitch?
Well. They came to the right auction.
I saw some familiar faces—enemies, old friends, and sharks in fancy suits—but I ignored them. I was already scanning the space for one person.
He stood near the far end of the room, his suit tailored to perfection, and he had the nerve to look well rested and moisturized.
Why did you sleep with him all those years ago?
Desperation. That’s why.
To be someone. To be wanted. To matter, even if it was just for a moment.
Because sometimes attention—even the wrong kind—felt like the closest thing to love.
I would never be desperate again.
His eyes met mine, and the air crackled with a strange energy, making the already cramped room feel claustrophobic. My pulse fluttered. His gaze was challenging, daring me to acknowledge him with a glint of steel in his eyes.
He wants to play, let’s play.
“Miles,” I said, my voice slicing through whatever bullshit the men around him were saying.
“Serena.”
“Gentlemen.” The group’s curiosity turned to surprise. “Is this a bad time?”
“No problem,” Miles said, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just talking business.”
“You know, Miles,” I said, letting my tone slip just enough to carry a hint of mockery, “a little birdie told me your company’s been having…some challenges lately.” I inched closer. “Did your employee get hurt?”
There it was.
A brief moment where the mask slipped, and the panic couldn’t be hidden fast enough. Jenese used to say timing was everything—wait until they think they’re untouchable, then strike. I learned where to look from her. Never start with the target—start with who they’re trying to impress.
I wasn’t spying on his business, despite his belief.
Not recently. I guess I should have paid attention because things were going to shit for him, and I honestly had no hand in it this time.
It was pretty amazing that his employee’s injury hadn’t come out.
I knew how to play this game, and I’d play dirty if needed.
But despite his accusations, the thought of harming an innocent person was repulsive to me.
He looked like he wanted to strangle me, and I smiled.
“Go get ’em!” I said, and took off for the main bidding area.
The room filled up as people took their seats. The air crackled with anticipation. I stayed glued to my notes, my gaze flicking between the listings, forcing myself to concentrate.
The auctioneer stepped up to the podium, and the crowd settled.
The first property came up, but I couldn’t make myself care. My focus was on Miles, across the aisle. His eyes were on me, with an evil expression. I laughed.
A little part of me wanted to remind him who I was. Another part told me to turn away.
I just pretended to pay attention to the other bids. The auction dragged on for what felt like hours.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Another blocked number. I didn’t even look at it this time. The calls had been constant, but I couldn’t afford to be distracted.
“The Harrington estate,” the auctioneer’s voice rang out. “We’ll start the bidding at twenty million. Do I hear twenty million?”
I raised my paddle.
Miles lifted his paddle with a casual “Twenty-one million.”
I stole a glance at him, his nonchalance only fueling my resolve. The auctioneer continued, “Twenty-one million from Mr. Whitmore. Do I hear twenty-three?”
“Twenty-three.” I raised my paddle again.
“Twenty-five million.”
I felt everyone’s eyes on us, but my eyes were only on him.
“Thirty million.”
I had every intention of seeing him fall, and I would make sure it was hard. He never understood why I needed control, and I never understood how he let go so easily. Or maybe we just didn’t want to understand each other.
“Thirty-one million,” he said.
I didn’t break my gaze. “Thirty-six.”
His eyes darkened. A silent warning—or perhaps an invitation. I couldn’t tell which, but it didn’t matter. It was all part of the game now. I caught him tapping his pen just like I did—something I never thought I’d share with anyone.
My phone buzzed once more. I sent the call straight to voicemail. If I answered, I risked losing control of the auction.
“Thirty-seven million!”
Miles and I both turned to see someone in the back raising their paddle. Who the hell?
I raised my paddle, and other bids continued.
“Thirty-eight million!”
“Thirty-nine!”
The phone buzzed again, this time with a text. I glanced down, and the words sent a chill down my spine:
I’m watching you, Serena. Meet me now, or this gets messy. It doesn’t have to be. No more ignoring my calls, sugar.
I felt a jolt of unease. Watching me? Here? My eyes darted around the room.
The phone buzzed again, and this time, a photo appeared on the screen—a snapshot of me from just moments ago, sitting exactly where I was now. The angle was off, as if taken from the upper balcony overlooking the auction floor.
My gaze immediately went up. The balcony was dim, almost too dark to make out details.
Another buzz. Shit. Another photo.
This time, it was from the exit of the auction room, the back of my head facing down at my phone.
The message beneath it read:
Time’s running out. Follow, or everyone finds out who you really are.
My eyes flicked back to the auctioneer. I couldn’t afford to lose the property—not now, not when I was this close.
The auctioneer’s voice droned on, and I raised my hand, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside. “Forty million.”
Another buzz.
“Forty-two,” another bidder called out.
Focus, Serena. I gritted my teeth and lifted my hand again. “Fifty million.”
Another buzz. The next photo was even more damning—a shot of me in the auction room, my face a mask of stress and anxiety.
The text was short, just three words:
Last chance, Serena.
“Fifty-one million,” Miles said.
I shot him a sharp look. My heart raced as I raised my paddle again. “Fifty-three million.”
I could feel my composure slipping like sand through my fingers, but I forced a smile, as if I were still in control.
Another buzz.
Your sisters like to hang out at Café L’Amour, right? Do they know about me?
The sound of bidders around me faded, drowned out by the pounding in my ears. I shot to my feet so fast my chair scraped against the floor. “Sixty million.”
Gasps rippled through the room. Miles’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, his brows lifting in disbelief.
The auctioneer hesitated, his gavel poised midair. “Uh… Sixty million from Ms. King. Going once…”
My vision tunneled on the auctioneer, willing him to bring the gavel down.
“Going twice… Sold!”
Without waiting for the crowd’s reaction, I grabbed my bag and stormed out, my heels clicking hard against the polished floor, I was nearly running out the building. My phone buzzed again, and I nearly crushed it in my grip.
I shoved through the doors, my mind racing. I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do next.
“Sunny!” Miles’s voice sliced through the hallway, startling me. I turned.
I can’t with this shit. Not now.
“Don’t call me that!” I snapped. “I don’t have time for this right now.”
“Sunny—”
“Goodbye, Miles.” My voice was cold. “Let’s not meet again.”
I pushed through the front doors of the auction hall, into the bright daylight.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but then I saw her—Jenese.
She was leaning against a sleek black car at the curb.
People walking by slowed, staring at her curiously in her burgundy leather trench coat that hugged her frame, the hem just brushing the tops of her knee-high snakeskin boots.
Her Afro was an impressive halo, the salt-and-pepper curls catching the sunlight.
A gold chain glinted against her collarbone, and a cigar rested between her fingers.
I tried to steady myself as I descended down the steps. “Jenese.”
“Serena.” Her voice was smooth, and she tilted her head. “You look nice, sugar. Love what you’re doing with the short hair.”
“Why are you here?”
Jenese took a slow drag of her cigar. “Can’t I drop by to see my number-one prodigy?”
I took a deep breath. Stay in control. Calm.
“Mm, whew, chile, that’s a handsome man right there. What’s his name?”
I glanced over my shoulder and froze. Miles had followed me. He stood at the top of the stairs, his expression unreadable. No. He shouldn’t see her.
“Nobody.”
She shrugged. “Get in.”
The smoke burned my eyes, but I turned to follow her lead but paused midstep, my eyes betraying me as they flicked back to Miles.
Remember what he did to you. Remember why you’re in this position now.
“You don’t think I’m too old for him, do you?” Jenese slipped into the driver’s seat with practiced ease, adjusting the rearview mirror as if she had all the time in the world.
“You’re old as dirt. Now drive.”
The engine roared to life, the rumble grounding me as I scrambled to push past the chaos in my head.
“Oh, Serena,” she said with a laugh. “Wait till you get to my age. Now, buckle up.”