Chapter 1095
“He’s here,” Skye breathed, her blood running cold. “Marcus sent him to buy it.”
“Or steal it,” Victoria said, clutching her purse. “This just got complicated.”
The auctioneer, a man with a voice like oiled mahogany, took the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, Lot Number Nine. The Eye of Dawn. A Burmese ruby of unparalleled clarity.”
“Opening bid at five million,” he announced.
Victoria raised her paddle. “Six million.”
From the balcony, Victor didn’t even glance down. He simply raised a finger.
“Ten million to the gentleman on the balcony,” the auctioneer called.
The room buzzed. Doubling the bid in an instant was a power move.
“Twelve,” Victoria countered.
“Twenty,” Victor signaled.
Skye leaned close to Victoria. “He’s trying to intimidate us. He wants to drain our budget.”
“He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with,” Victoria muttered. She raised her paddle. “Twenty-five.”
“Fifty million.” Victor’s voice rang out, clear and mocking.
The room gasped. Silence fell. Fifty million dollars for a single stone.
Skye looked up at the balcony. Victor was looking directly at her, even through her disguise. He smiled — a cold, predatory baring of teeth. Then, without warning, he turned and walked away from the railing.
He had stopped bidding.
“Fifty million, going once… going twice…”
“Wait,” Skye whispered, sudden panic seizing her chest. “Why did he stop? Marcus has deeper pockets than that.”
“Sold! To the gentleman — wait, the gentleman has withdrawn?” The auctioneer faltered, pressing a finger to his earpiece. “My apologies. The previous bid stands. Sold to Ms. Hayes for twenty-five million.”
Victoria looked at Skye, triumphant. “We got it.”
“No,” Skye said, gripping Victoria’s arm. “It’s too easy. He’s up to something.”
They moved quickly to the collection room at the back. The manager, sweating through his collar, brought out a velvet box.
“Here you are, Ms. Hayes. The payment transfer is pending…”
Victoria opened the box.
It was empty.
“Where is it?” Victoria demanded, her voice rising sharply.
“I — I just put it in there!” the manager stammered. “The appraiser had it for a final polish…”
The fire alarm blared. Strobing lights flooded the hallway.
“It’s a distraction!” Skye shouted.
She pushed past the manager and ran into the service corridor — just in time to see a figure in a maintenance uniform sprinting toward the exit, a silver briefcase tucked under his arm. Behind him, two security guards lay unconscious, their tasers still clipped to their belts. Victor hadn’t come alone.
He had bid up the price to create a spectacle, holding every eye on the stage while his team worked the back room.
“Stop him!” Skye screamed.
She tried to run, but her body rebelled. The hallway stretched and warped before her eyes, the blood loss turning her legs to water. She stumbled, slamming into the wall to keep from going down.
“Skye!” Victoria called out, but she was in heels and couldn’t give chase.
The rear exit burst open — not with Victor coming through, but Alistair Thorne going in, moving like a dark blur. He had been monitoring the perimeter.