Chapter 460
The sleek black car glided to a halt outside the auction house.
The moment Sienna Sloan pushed the doors open, the deep, rich notes of a cello and the subtle scent of sandalwood washed over her.
The young receptionist recognized her immediately and offered a polite nod. “Ms. Sloan, Mr. Draken is waiting for you in the private lounge on the second floor p>
Sienna headed upstairs, her heels sinking into the plush, dark carpet lining the corridor.
The lounge door was left slightly ajar, the gentle sound of poured tea drifting out from within.
She didn’t enter right away.
Instead, she lingered by the railing in the hallway, looking down at the open atrium below.
In the center of the first-floor auction room sat a round mahogany table draped in velvet, displaying several exquisite pieces of jewelry.
Helena Sterling was seated near the window. Dressed in a dark purple Embroidered Silk Gown with her hair elegantly pinned up, a string of lustrous pearls rested against her collarbone.
She radiated old-money opulence, her eyes practically gleaming with excitement.
Seated at the surrounding tables were several other wealthy socialites of similar standing.
Sienna had heard of these exclusive, invite-only auctions tailored specifically for high-society women.
The pieces on display were rare treasures rarely seen on the open market.
Given Helena’s absolute obsession with fine jewelry, it would have been more surprising if she hadn’t shown up.
However, something about Celeste Carlyle, who sat beside her, felt off.
Celeste’s makeup was as demure as always, her long hair cascading softly down her back.
Dressed in a light-colored haute couture gown, she exuded a gentle, tranquil aura, a perfectly measured smile resting on her lips.
She sat dutifully by Helena’s side, her posture intimate and attentive, agreeing with every word the older woman said.
To any outsider, her eyes reflected nothing but pure, harmless admiration and obedience.
But standing right beside Celeste was an unfamiliar young man.
He possessed a cold, aristocratic air, dressed in a minimalist, impeccably tailored suit.
Every subtle gesture seemed designed to project the aloofness of a fallen European noble. He spoke little and kept his presence understated.
In just the few minutes Sienna watched, the auction staff had approached him several times to negotiate.
It was clear that today’s prized items all belonged to him.
The man showed zero desperation to close a deal. He simply stood there in quiet composure allowinTO the wealthy women to appraise him and his wares.
Who was this man? And why did his dynamic with Celeste feel so suspiciously intimate?
As Sienna was piecing it together, Silas Draken’s devilishly smooth voice drifted into her ear.
“His name is Tristan Devereux, an impoverished aristocrat from overseas p>
Sienna turned her head, realizing Silas had materialized beside her without making a sound.
He rested both hands on the railing, his striking side profile looking as ridiculously handsome and captivating as ever.
“Word is, his auction items are all rare family heirlooms. Oh, and he also happens to be our little manipulator’s new boyfriend. Your mother-in-law is currently negotiating terms with him p>
“What?” Sienna was genuinely taken aback.
Wasn’t Celeste supposedly head over heels for Jarred? How did she suddenly produce a boyfriend out of thin air?
“What kind of terms is Helena negotiating with him p>
Silas let out a soft chuckle. “Paying him to step aside and hand Celeste over to her son, of course, if she’s willing to bleed a little more cash, it’s definitely on the table p>
Sienna furrowed her brow. “How do you know that p>
“What do you think this guy sees in Celeste? He’s just a hustler. He only loves money. It’s a mutually beneficial transaction p>
Sienna frowned deeper. “Celeste lacks for nothing at the Sterling Manor. She doesn’t need to play the pimp to make money p>
Silas shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe it’s true love p>
Sienna’s gaze drifted back to the man below, narrowing slightly.
She didn’t know him.
But her instincts screamed that something about him was entirely artificial.
His movements were too textbook, so perfectly calibrated that they looked heavily rehearsed.
True aristocrats didn’t pose twenty-four seven; only frauds felt the need to put on a constant show.
Just then, the voices from the group below drifted up clearly to where Sienna stood.
Helena’s tone was dripping with arrogance. “It’s just a few pieces of jewelry. It doesn’t even dent my monthly allowance.