Page 19 of Accidentally Knocked Up By the Bratva

“Eight hundred,” I keep my paddle in the air.

A hushed silence falls over the room. “Eight hundred,” Zara’s voice cracks. No one responds. “Sold,” she says, her voice almost strained. The gavel falls.

I smile and bring my paddle back down.

As the next piece is presented, I raise my paddle again. "One million."

More gasps. Zara stands strong, but I notice her need to grip the podium. "One million dollars. Going once, going twice… sold."

With each subsequent piece, I increase my bids, fighting against the rest. Two million. Three million. Four. The crowd's reactions grow more intense with each outrageous sum.

Zara's professional facade begins to crack. Her cheeks flush, and I can see the internal struggle playing out on her face. She's torn between her duty to the auction and her desire to put me in my place.

As I bid on the final piece, our eyes meet once more. In that moment, I know I've succeeded in getting under her skin. The question is, what will she do about it?

The gavel falls for the final time, and I can't help but smirk as I watch Zara's composure crumble. Her eyes, wide with disbelief, dart between me and the auction ledger.

"Thirty million dollars," she announces, her voice barely above a whisper. "The auction is… closed."

The crowd erupts into a frenzy of excited chatter. I rise from my seat, buttoning my jacket as I make my way toward the stage. People try to stop me, get in a word, and find out who I am, but I ignore all attempts at conversation.

There’s only one person I need to speak with. She’s still on stage, talking to a few people, but from how her chest heaves, I can see her mind is engrossed elsewhere. Her fury, it seems, can’t be contained. I’m about to break into a jog toward her when Zara's colleague, Alex, intercepts me.

"Mr. Zolotov," he says, extending his hand. "An impressive showing tonight. Shall we discuss the logistics?"

I nod, my eyes still fixed on Zara.

"Of course," I reply smoothly. "I assume a wire transfer will be acceptable?"

Alex nods eagerly. "Absolutely. If you'll follow me, we can sort out the paperwork."

As we move toward a private room, I catch sight of Zara again. The fire in her eyes sends a thrill through me. I've rattledher cage, but hopefully, she’ll see I’m only trying to support her career.

In the office, Alex fumbles with the contracts. "This is… unprecedented," he stammers. "We've never had a single buyer purchase an entire auction before."

I lean back in my chair, exuding casual confidence. "There's a first time for everything."

The moment I’m done signing the papers, I hear the click of heels approaching. A door from one of the offices flies open, and there she is—my fierce, beautiful Zara, radiating anger and indignation.

I can't help but grin.

“Hello,” I say, smiling at her.

The fury in Zara's eyes is intoxicating. She storms toward me, her elegant dress swishing angrily around her legs.

"You," she hisses, jabbing a finger at my chest. "Outside. Now."

I rise smoothly, buttoning my jacket. "If you'll excuse us, Alex," I say, never taking my eyes off Zara. "It seems we have some matters to discuss."

The cool night air hits us as we exit the venue. Zara whirls on me, her cheeks flushed, tendrils of hair escaping from her elegant updo. She has never looked more beautiful.

"What the hell was that?" she demands. "Why did you feel the need to throw your weight around like some… some arrogant oligarch?"

I raise an eyebrow, amused. "Is that how you see me, Zara? An oligarch?"

"How else am I supposed to see you?" she snaps, her voice unwavering. "You waltz in and buy out an entire auction like it's nothing. Do you have any idea how that makes me look?"

Her words hit me like a splash of cold water. I've miscalculated. In my eagerness to impress her, I've only managed to insult her professional pride.

---