Page 47 of Sweetest Revenge

His eyes were hooded, his gaze dark, and his jaw was tense. His whole body language told me he was having a hard time holding himself back just as his hands dug into my waist.

Holding back from what, though? Punishment? Actually kissing me? Fucking me in front of all the media?

Hard to say, but I didn’t have time to think about it as he grabbed my hand again and quickly walked up the stairs where someone was waiting for us.

A man in a dark altered suit that wrapped around his chest in a robe-like fashion and showed his chest, with long black hair that shone in the moonlight and the most crystal-clear blue eyes I’d ever seen, came into view.

He looked at us with a sultry grin. He exuded sexual prowess. He looked like someone who’d be involved in the auction.

“Addison Mercer,” he said with a smile. “I never thought I’d see the day where you and Warren linked arms.”

As if Warren had forgotten, he dropped my hand like it burned him.

I didn’t miss a beat and lifted the same hand to reach out to the man.

“A pleasure,” I said with a bright smile. “Am I to assume this is your event?”

He took my hand and gave it a light shake.

“It is. I’m Dominic.” He motioned for us to follow him in. “Every year I get various artists and wealthy businesspeople to open up their hearts—and wallets—for a few of my favorite charities.”

“How considerate of you,” I commented just as we entered the house, and my skin immediately felt hot with all the eyes on us. But it wasn’t just that. It felt like we had been picked up and teleported smack into another dimension.

The walls were a light gray, but all the paintings decorating them were dark and surrounded by deep gold frames. Many spanned whole walls; others were clustered together.

Vines and leaves swirled up the corners and to the ceiling where they hung amongst the chandeliers with little white flowers peeking through, mimicking the night sky above.

The vibe was moody, the lights dim, but the people were dressed in their most extravagant clothing. I could just smell the money wafting off them.

In another life, I wouldn’t even look twice at their clothing, expensive bags, or even the artwork. I had been the same as them, and all the stuff money could buy, which I had enjoyed, had never seemed like a privilege. It had been… common.

But after my life had been destroyed and I was forced to work and struggle, all of this just seemed over-the-top. Distasteful. Too much.

Is this truly for charity?

“It’s more like a fashion show than a charity event,” Warren said from behind me, his tone conveying that he wasn’t that keen on this charity either.

Rich as he was, he was sure critical of people in his same circle.

I paused as Dominic walked us by some statues, all of them depicting the same women but in various different poses. In all of them, agony was clear on her face, and the tracks carved into her face looked more like open wounds than tears.

Breathtaking.

I couldn’t force my lungs to move. I was wholly captivated. But it seemed like I was the only one.

“Oh, don’t be so uptight,” Dominic said and sent Warren a look. “It’s not that different from that auction of yours. At least mine helps others. Yours just lines your own pockets.”

“I know a tax deduction when I see one,” Warren muttered, venom in his tone.

I looked at both of them, my brow furrowing. They were standing close, but there was a slight frown on their faces.

Was this… a friendship? It felt weird and slightly sour between them, but Warren didn’t seem to shower Dominic with the same coldness he did others.

Including me.

He was almost… playful?

“You’re not part of the auction?” I asked.

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