The auctioneer swallows hard. "Sir, we still have active bidders who?—"
"I said it's over." Each word drops like ice. "I'm donating ten million to your cause. Right now."
Gasps ripple through the crowd. Ten million. Twenty times what they hoped to raise all night.
"The girl is leaving." I lock eyes with her. She’s staring at me with parted lips and wide eyes. "With me."
No one argues. No one dares. Money talks, but fear speaks louder. And everyone in this room fears me.
The auctioneer recovers quickly, switching to fawning gratitude. I ignore him. My eyes never leave the trembling beauty as I stride toward the stage. I climb the steps slowly, deliberately. Stalking my prey.
Up close, she's even more perfect. Skin like porcelain. Lips full and pink. Body trembling slightly. The scent of her—vanilla and something uniquely female—hits me like a drug.
"Mr. Wolfe," she whispers, clearly recognizing me. Most people do.
I lean close, my mouth near her ear, letting her feel my heat, my size, my power. "Come with me now."
It's not a request.
She nods, those big innocent eyes locked on mine. Good girl.
I place my hand on the small of her back, guiding her offstage. Every man in the room watches, envy and defeat written across their faces. They know what's happening. They know she belongs to me now.
As we walk toward the exit, I already know exactly what's going to happen next. I'm going to take this innocent little thing to my penthouse. I'm going to strip her bare and spread her wide. I'm going to fuck her until she screams my name, pump her so full of my come it drips down those perfect thighs. Then I'm going to lock her in my penthouse where no other man will ever look at her again.
Because she’s mine now. And what's mine stays mine. Forever.
two
. . .
Sabien
I'm vibratingwith fury as I walk her out. Every cell in my body screams to turn around, go back, and tear those fuckers limb from limb. Just thinking about their comments, their eyes on her, their disgusting plans—my vision blurs red. My hand tightens on her waist, pulling her closer to my side. Mine to protect. Mine to possess. I feel her trembling against me, this perfect little angel who had no idea what she was walking into tonight.
The cool night air hits us as we step outside. I scan the street, eyes narrowed. My driver waits at the curb, the black Bentley gleaming under the streetlights. But I don't move toward it yet. I need a minute. Need to calm the storm inside me before I get her in that car. Before I do something I can't take back.
She’s so small next to me. Delicate. Her white dress glows in the darkness like a beacon. I could snap her in half if I wanted to. But all I want to do is wrap her up, shield her, keep her safe from the wolves. Wolves like me.
"Are you cold?" I ask, shrugging off my jacket before she can answer. I drape it around her shoulders, engulfing her tinyframe. Something primal and satisfied growls in my chest seeing her in my clothes.
"Thank you," she whispers, pulling it tighter around herself. The jacket hangs to her knees, sleeves dangling past her fingertips.
I guide her down the steps, my hand never leaving the small of her back. Ready to catch her if she stumbles in those delicate heels. Ready to destroy anyone who looks at her wrong.
That's when she says it.
"I'm sorry for the trouble..."
I stop dead. The words hit me like a punch to the gut. She thinks this is her fault. This innocent creature believes she caused this situation. That she's responsible for the filthy thoughts of those men. For my reaction. For the scene I caused.
Rage surges anew, but not at her. Never at her. At everyone who made her feel like she should apologize for existing. For being beautiful. For trusting.
I grab her hand, the move sudden enough that she gasps. But I'm gentle as I press her palm flat against my chest, right over my thundering heart. I want her to feel it. Feel what she does to me without even trying.
"You did nothing wrong, baby." The endearment slips out without thought, natural as breathing. "Nothing. You hear me?"
Her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise. She nods, but I don't think she believes me.