Page 72 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

The bidding slowed when Aston raised his paddle.

‘Six million.’

There was a collective gasp in the room, excited chatter at a new bidder entering the fray. Aston’s bid seemed to reignite interest. The ring hit almost eight million euros.

‘What are you doing?’ she whispered.

‘Bidding on your ring,’ he replied with a grin, although his focus was all on the auctioneer. ‘Eight-seven-five.’

‘Eight million seven hundred and fifty thousand.’

His jaw was hard, his concentration intense as he watched the other bidders around him. That sort of money, all for a ring to grace her finger? She thought of what that sum could do for a charity instead of her. This was a convenient relationship, all fake. A wall of guilt crashed over her like a tidal wave. Carla was in hospital and here she was in an auction, with a man bidding on such an extravagance...

‘You need to stop,’ she snapped.

‘Nine-point-two,’ he said, and turned to her, eyebrow cocked. ‘Why?’

‘It’s over nine million euros to put a ring on my finger. Think of what that could do for a charity.’

‘I’ll donate an equivalent amount to a charity of your choice. Just name it. Because I see this as an investment.’

‘In what?’

‘In you. This is your ring,ma chèrie. If you don’t want it, let me know. Ten-point-one.’

The atmosphere changed again. She could sense the thrill rippling through the room. She wanted the ring, wanted him to keep bidding to see how much he was willing to pay. But at the same time a voice began to whisper nastily...No one will love you now...And, once she thought it, she couldn’t shut the voice down. It repeated over and over, making a farce of everything, especially since it was the truth—Astondidn’tlove her.

He held up his paddle again. Another number, another increment. It was a fight between a phone bidder and him as to who would win the prize, when all Aston would win was her.

‘Stop,’ she said.

‘I’ll stop if you kiss me.’

She was aware of the hum of the room but, at his words, all her focus fell to Aston’s lips—how perfectly etched they were, how full. Would they be soft or hard against her own?

A bid was raised by another party. Aston’s pupils dilated. ‘Twelve million.’

He didn’t take his eyes from her, as if daring her to stop him. Ana didn’t know what to do. All she knew was that she needed this riot of sensations to stop because they threatened to overwhelm her. Part of her wanted simply to fade away but Aston was pushing her into the blazing spotlight.

She was dimly aware of the auctioneer calling for more bids. The corner of Aston’s lips curled and she knew she had to end this. She grabbed the front of Aston’s shirt and tugged. His nostrils flared for a brief moment as he descended on her. There was no finesse in what she did as their lips crashed together.

It was only then she realised her fundamental mistake, her belief that she hadanycontrol here. The kiss had been designed to stop things, yet she was flung into a maelstrom. She hadn’t known what to expect from a man whose body looked as hard as Aston’s, a man who she was coming to learn worked out for a few hours every day in the early morning, but it hadn’t been tenderness.

His free hand cupped her cheek, holding her close. His lips were feather-light on hers, so gentle, so soft. Such a contrast to the strength of him under her palm. There was so much banked power in him. She could sense a quiver of his muscles, as if he was holding back when her brain kept cryingmore.

She began to tremble against him as the heat roared through her, burning any hurt and fear away to nothingness. How she craved the abyss. Her lips parted and their tongues touched. She wanted so much more, becoming lost in it, all slick and hot. The world was simply white noise around her. She wanted him like nothing she’d ever wanted before. It consumed her, a craving so sharp and intense it hurt. This was a need that reached inside and tried to tear out her soul.

Then things slowed once more and became syrupy. Aston eased away and all she wanted to do was chase the kiss. She noticed then how heavy his breaths were, panting gusts matching hers. She stared into his eyes, into those deep pools of blue. She wanted to drown in them. A smattering of laughter sounded through the assembled crowd. The room slowly eased back into focus.

‘No more bids?’ The sharp fall of a hammer cracked through the room. ‘Sold to Aston Lane for twelve million euros.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

THEYWALKEDOUTSIDEinto the bright light of the afternoon. The feel of Ana’s kiss still on Aston’s lips; her hand in his, as natural as breathing. Her ring glittered in the sunlight. His bank had transferred the funds immediately after he’d notified them at the hammer fall. There had been no delay. Then he’d taken the gem from its blue velvet box and slid it onto Ana’s finger, to the smiles of the auction house staff. The ring had been the perfect fit.

Something primal erupted deep inside him, the sense that this was his claim over her. In the space of a short afternoon, any remaining distance between them had been breached. It was so deeply satisfying. There was no more wanting, as if he’d had his fill, was replete. For much of his life it had been as if he’d been looking for something. Now he was overwhelmed by the sense that today, he’d found it.

He tried not to think too hard about that, living only in the now. Ana’s palm was warm against his. The sense of rightness on a back street in Paris, when his whole life had been spent chasing the next big adventure. He’d never seen a person as an adventure before but something about the simplicity of this moment had adrenalin coursing through his veins. There was a feeling deep in his gut that his life could irrevocably change if he allowed it.

---