Page 30 of All The Pretty Little Lies

I feel a chill run down my spine. This is bigger than we anticipated.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this, brother, “Zaire remarks. “We’re too exposed, and with Dmitri here, we’re sitting ducks.”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of our mission pressing down on me. The temptation to abort is strong, especially with Dmitri's unexpected presence, but I can't shake the feeling that we're on the cusp of something monumental. The air in the warehouse seems to crackle with anticipation, and I'm not about to walk away now.

"We're staying," I announce quietly, my voice firm despite the knot of anxiety in my stomach.

Zaire's eyebrows furrow, a silent question in his eyes. I can see the concern etched on his face, but he trusts my judgment. Talon, on the other hand, looks almost excited by the prospect of danger.

"Alright, but we need to be smart about this," I continue, my eyes darting around the room. "We're going to spread out. Talon, take the bidding paddle. You arrived at the academy after Dmitri left, so he won't recognize you. Mingle, listen, and for God's sake, try not to draw attention to yourself."

Talon grins, taking the paddle with a flourish. "Me? Draw attention? Never," he quips, but I can see the steel behind his playful demeanor. He understands the gravity of the situation.

"Zaire, I want you near the exits. Keep an eye on the security and catalog any changes in their positions or behaviors. If things go south, we'll need a quick escape route."

My brother nods, his posture already shifting as he slips into surveillance mode. "Got it. What about you?"

“I’ll be around.”

Zaire nods, his posture shifting subtly as he slips into surveillance mode. He moves away, his steps casual but purposeful, blending seamlessly with the other guests.

Left alone, I take a moment to survey the room. The air is thick with anticipation, hushed conversations, and tinkling glasses, creating a symphony of wealth and power. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over the gathered criminals, their faces a mix of excitement and barely concealed greed.

I make my way towards the bar, strategically positioned to overhear conversations without drawing attention. As I wait for my drink, a martini that I have no intention of actually consuming, I catch snippets of whispered exchanges.

"...heard it could change everything..."

"...worth every penny if it's real..."

"...Victor Petrov himself is interested..."

My ears prick up at the mention of my uncle's name. Whatever's being auctioned tonight, it's clear that Victor wants it badly. And that alone is reason enough for us to interfere.

The bartender slides my drink across the polished surface, and I nod my thanks. As I turn, I nearly collide with a statuesque redhead in a shimmering gown. She stumbles slightly, and I reach out to steady her, my free hand grasping her elbow.

"My apologies," I murmur, slipping easily into the role of Oliver Blackwood, charming and slightly aloof.

She looks up at me through long lashes, a coy smile playing on her crimson lips. The redhead's eyes sparkle with interest as she appraises me. "No harm done," she purrs, her voice a sultry whisper. "I'm Natasha. And you are?"

"Oliver Blackwood," I reply smoothly, angling my body to shield my face from the crowd. I lean in close as if sharing a secret. "I must say, you've saved me from a terribly dull evening. These events can be so...tedious."

Natasha laughs, a tinkling sound that draws the attention of nearby guests. Perfect. I guide her towards a quieter corner, using her as a living shield against Dmitri's potential gaze.

"Oh, I don't know," she says, trailing a manicured finger down my lapel. "I find there's always excitement to be found if you know where to look."

I arch an eyebrow, playing along. "Is that so? And where might one find such excitement, Ms...?"

"Just Natasha," she interjects, her smile widening. "And as for excitement, well...that depends on what you're into, Mr. Blackwood."

I allow a slow smile to spread across my face, all the while scanning the room over her shoulder. Zaire has positioned himself near a fire exit, casually sipping champagne. Talon is engaged in animated conversation with a group of middle-aged men, no doubt charming them effortlessly.

"I'm interested in many things," I murmur, returning my attention to Natasha. "Art, history, the thrill of acquisition..."

She leans in closer, her perfume enveloping me in a cloud of jasmine and something darker, more exotic. "Then you've come to the right place. I hear tonight's offerings are...unprecedented."

Before I can probe further, a hush falls over the crowd. A distinguished man in a tailored suit takes the stage, tapping a microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you'll please take your seats. The auction is about to begin."

Natasha's eyes light up. "Duty calls," she says with a wink. "Perhaps we can continue this conversation later, Oliver."

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