Heats could last for days, but there was little doubt in his mind that by the end of it, all of this bubbling curiosity he currently held toward the pretty thing on stage would be satiated.
“Sir, you’re getting a call from the Leviathan,” Claudio interrupted his thoughts.
“Hold it.” The auction had finally made its way to the alpha turned omega, which meant O had more pressing things to waste his time on than conversing with the Dominus of the White Frost.
“Sir.”
“Tell him I’m busy.”
There was a sigh, and then Claudio stepped away to answer the buzzing multi-slate.
Oberon was technically a member of the mafia, which meant he stood beneath the Dominus who led them. However, they all knew there was nothing Levi could do to really punish O for ignoring one phone call. The White Frost was at a point where Oberon’s wealth was no longer needed, but he liked to think the two of them had developed a friendship of sorts during the creation of the mafia. It’d been thanks to him that Levi had been able to build legal businesses, after all.
Thanks to him, they’d been able to locate and rescue Levi around six months ago when he’d been kidnapped and tossed into an underground breeding program.
The Dominus owed him.
“We’ll start the bidding at twenty-five thousand coin,” the announcer below began, flinging his gavel out toward the crowd when several hands instantly went up.
Including Note Hex’s.
Whoever had selected the alpha-turned-omega’s garments had known what they were doing, and it was clear Ohadn’t been the only one to notice how sumptuous the product promised to be.
Since Oberon deserved the best, there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d allow this prize to go to anyone else, but he waited, allowing the price to rise, giving those beneath him the chance to feel special, to feel close to winning.
“…going once!” the announcer grinned at Note, who’d just delivered a fairly high bid. “Going twice—”
Oberon leaned back in his seat and typed out a quick bid on the holopad he’d been given at the beginning. With the press of a button, the screen at the back of the stage lit up, a clanging of bells ringing loudly to signal to the announcer and the audience that someone in the private booths had just added their paddle to the mix.
A round of gasps went out around the crowd when the number appeared, even the announcer gaped for a moment before collecting himself.
“Eleven million coin,” the announcer cleared his throat, and without even bothering to ask the crowd if anyone wanted to bid against that, slammed the gavel down. “Sold! We have a winner. Omega number five can be collected anytime after the auction or during the after-party.”
The original plan had been to enjoy the party. Mingle a bit, make the most of what he’d anticipated being an only slightly less dull evening. But no longer. For starters, now that’d he’d opted to purchase a heat, there was no way he’d be kicking it with these ruffians. Orgies aside, he wasn’t partial to public sex, and there was no way he’d be claiming his prize in front of alphas who were already drooling over Fenrir.
There were still other omegas to be auctioned off, but his business was definitely done here. Waiting for the auction to end would be tedious, and Oberon found himself rising from his seat and exiting the booth without a second thought.
Just before he walked out, his eyes caught Fenrir’s, making note of the doubt swirling in that fiery gaze.
Oberon winked, chuckling when the omega flinched and made it obvious the message had been received. For one reason or another, his new bedpartner hadn’t wanted O to be the alpha who’d won him.
If his file was to be believed, Fenrir was used to disappointment.
“I assured the Leviathan you would report back as soon as you were free,” Claudio stated as the two of them fell into step in the hallway. “Would you like me to find a quiet room for you to do so?”
“Not now.” Oberon led them to the next level, quirking a brow when they were greeted by a set of bulky guards at the top of the stairs. “I’d like to get the handover done and out of the way.”
“Please follow instructions and return to your seats,” the guard on the left said firmly. “Product isn’t sanctioned to be removed from the stage until the auction as a whole has completed.”
“I want to speak to the person in charge.” Talking to these underlings would get him nowhere.
“I’m afraid—”
“Of course,” a female voice interrupted a moment before a woman appeared at the end of the hallway. She approached with confidence, the guards quickly stepping aside and bowing deeply.
The scent of an alpha alerted him to her proclivity, but as a dominant of his species, Oberon didn’t need to give things like that a second thought.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” she held out a delicate hand with long, blood-red nails, “I’m Michelle Ophelia.”