Auctioned for a Dollar, Claimed by the Billionaire Chapter 08

“Ten!”

The whole room counted. Four hundred voices.

Damien lowered his head. He didn’t rush. He kissed me like he had been rehearsing it in his head for years and was determined not to waste a second. His hand slid into my hair. Mine curled into his lapel.

“Nine! Eight! Seven!”

Somewhere behind us, Ryan was screaming my name. I didn’t hear him. I heard Damien’s heartbeat, wild and loud under my palm, completely at odds with how calm he looked.

“Three! Two! One!”

He pulled back. Just an inch. His forehead rested against mine, his breathing ragged.

“Time’s up,” he whispered. He didn’t let go.

Every phone in the ballroom chimed at once.

[SIDE POOL SETTLED: “Will Lot 13 show up?” – YES. Winner: Ava Sterling. Payout: $150,000.]

The room gasped.

I smiled. “Thank you, Ryan. Your thirty grand just paid for a new pediatric wing playroom. I’m donating every cent.”

Applause broke out. Real applause. Board members. Investors. Even the waiters.

Ryan looked like he’d been shot. He shoved Sloane aside and staggered toward me, his voice suddenly soft and

broken.

“Ava, baby, I’m sorry. I was wrong. I said awful things. I was drunk, I was stressed about the merger. Three years. You can’t throw away three years over one stupid joke.”

“Three years?” I tilted my head. “You threw them away the second you posted that photo.”

I walked past him to Sloane.

She backed up until she hit the cake table. The fondant pig in its tiny wedding veil wobbled behind her.

“Take off my mother’s necklace.”

“Ryan gave it to me.” Her voice shook. “It’s a gift.

“It was stolen from a safe. Which makes you the owner of stolen property in front of four hundred witnesses and the NYPD commissioner at table two.” I held out my hand. “Take it off. Or he does it for you.”

At table two, the commissioner raised his glass at me.

Sloane’s hands trembled so badly it took her three tries to work the clasp. She dropped the sapphire into my palm. It was still warm from her skin. I wanted to wash it in holy water.

Then I slid my engagement ring off my finger. The ring Ryan had chosen. Three carats of nothing.

I dropped it into the champagne tower.

It clinked down through six levels of crystal and landed at the bottom.

“Ryan Hale,” I said, loud and clear. “We are done. Forever.”

“No!” His hand shot out and clamped around my wrist again. He squeezed so hard I felt my bones grind. “You don’t get to leave me! You’re nothing without me! I built your father’s company back from-”

He didn’t finish.

Damien’s hand closed over Ryan’s. One quick twist.

There was a sharp crack. Ryan howled and stumbled back, clutching his fingers, his face white with pain and humiliation.

Damien stepped between us and moved me behind him with one arm. The entire room felt the temperature drop.

“Touch her again,” he said softly, “and I won’t stop at your hand.”

“This is between me and my fiancée!” Ryan spat, cradling his hand. “You want to go to war with Sterling Group over her? I’ll bury you! I run that company!”

Damien laughed. Short. Cold, Almost bored.

He reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo and pulled out a cream envelope sealed with dark red wax. He slapped it against Ryan’s chest.

“Sterling Group was never yours,” he said. “Open it.”

With shaking fingers, Ryan broke the seal and unfolded the pages. I watched him read. I watched the blood drain from his face, line by line, until he was gray.

“No.” His voice cracked. “No, this can’t… This is a codicil to Richard Sterling’s will.”

His eyes snapped up. Wild. Terrified.

“Trustee… Damien Cross?” he choked. “Why the hell is YOUR name on this?”