Page 16 of Fortress of the King

My colleague, Melody, takes the microphone. She works in my department, and I’ve had lunch with her a few times, although it’s clear from her approach and delivery that she’s been in the spotlight more than once.

A beautiful gold trolley is wheeled in, and on it stands a Chinese glazed porcelain blue and white Qing Dynasty vase. Kindly donated by a congressman I’ve never heard of.

Melody begins the bidding at eight hundred dollars, and it quickly escalates back and forth through the room to over two thousand. She’s good, playing the bidders off between themselves as she hikes the price up.

I stand in awe of her, a true professional, she’s certainly good at what she does and commands the floor with precision and grace.

She bangs the gavel down with an elegant tap, and everybody claps to the winning bidder in the middle row.

I clap, too, smiling into the crowd. In my few moments of watching Melody call the auction, I realize the spare seat in the front row is now occupied.

I stare into the icy blue depths of Angelo Medici, and a shock travels through my body. My heart accelerates as I stare back at him, my unaffected face mask is well in place, however. His eyes show no emotion either, and it’s dangerously seductive.

I watch as his eyes then dip down the length of my body, his jaw ticks as he takes me in, and I think my dress just got the green light.

By the time the Arthur Clifton Goodwin painting is sold, courtesy of the Ritz Carlton Hotel, Angelo’s lips turn into an arrogant smirk and I look away. He’s too much.

I suddenly realize why some asshole’s making me do this… because nobody in their right minds would be dumb enough to go up against him, in any way, shape, or form.

I didn’t come into this without doing my homework. I know who he is. His ruthlessness is legendary.

Am I a professional spy, willing to put my life on the line for an underworld boss who cares about nobody but himself? No, but I have to get what I need from him and get it as fast as possible, and I’m dangerously realizing that I may be in even deeper than I thought.

Will I sleep with him to get my sister back? A lump forms in my throat at how sick that is, yet I can’t bring myself to say no.

What I’ve got to lose is worth far more than any Qing Vase or ridiculously priced piece of art. What I’ve got to lose can’t be replaced. I’m dead either way and so is Mia if I fail.

In my periphery, I feel him still watching me.

One thing Angelo Medici isn’t counting on is a woman who can match his own ruthlessness. I may not be a merciless barbarian with links to organized crime, but I will get information in any way possible to help free my sister.

Angelo is well known for his loyalty to his family, it’s why he’s unbreakable, and he has the respect of most Bostonians and his men. It’s why he’s at the top of his game.

I try not to let my hands shake as I take the podium when my auctions come around. My first piece for the night is a lovely pair of James II silver candlesticks. The detail is stunning, the vine pattern swirling down each stem is magical, and added to that, they’re in mint condition. I commence the bidding at five-thousand dollars.

It fazes nobody. The bids rise quickly. Six thousand. Seven. Eight.

“Ten thousand dollars.”

My lips part, but no words come out, my eyes darting to the front row.

Angelo sits calmly as my eyes fall on him. His bid is overpriced for two candlesticks that seem very doubtful he even wants or needs. Or maybe he likes burning the midnight oil?

Of course, Mr. Medici has to win. This is what he’s good at.

“Gentleman’s bid,” I say, giving him a smile of approval.

His look is predatory as he sits there like a fucking king, one knee crossed over the other, his hand resting idly over the back of the chair. Like he’s almost bored with it all.

I don’t know if it’s because everyone is scared of him, but nobody outbids him, and I slam the gavel down with force as our eyes meet. “Sold to Mr. Medici for ten thousand dollars.”

The next item rolls out—a pair of stunning Harry Winston diamond earrings.

“Lot number seven for the evening is a pair of white gold, pear-shaped Harry Winston diamond and sapphire earrings, encased with nine hundred and fifty platinum. They measure at approximately one point three centimeters by one point two centimeters, weigh seven grams, and have a carat value of one point nine six. Can we open the bids at fifteen thousand dollars?” They’re worth more, but it’s always nice to see people outbidding one another, it makes the game all the more fun, and these are exquisite.

Angelo Medici raises his paddle. Shocker.

He immediately gets outbid, the price going up by two thousand. Oh this should be good.

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