Chapter 187
OLIVIA’S POV
The whispers grew louder and louder around us, like a restless sea of curiosity.
“Who is this woman?” I heard someone murmur to their companion, their gaze locked on me as if trying to read beneath the mask.
“That dress… that’s from Armani. It’s worth over a hundred thousand dollars,” another voice whispered, awe lacing every syllable.
“The dress fits her so well. Who could she possibly be?” came yet another voice, soft and breathless with intrigue.
That last comment made the corners of my lips curl into the smallest, most satisfied smile. This was precisely why I had chosen this dress, why I had paid such an obscene amount for it–it wasn’t just to wear something expensive, but to make an impression no one here would forget. And by the eyes followed every step I took, I could already tell it was working
way their
As Damien and I walked deeper into the grand hall, I could feel the weight of countless eyes clinging to me. It wasn’t entirely new–I’d been in enough business meetings and galas to recognize when I’d become the center of attention–but this was on a different level. There was an almost electric
curiosity in the air.
Damien Yeaned closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear him. “You’re doing it again,” he teased
My brows furrowed slightly, genuinely puzzled. “Doing what?” I asked, glancing sideways at him.
He let out a low chuckle, eyes glinting with mischief. “You’ve stolen everyone’s attention. All eyes are on you–and to be honest, I can’t blame them.”
A soft laugh escaped me, the tension in my shoulders easing for just a moment. “Maybe that’s the point,” I murmured back, allowing myself a moment of
amusement.
The marble floors reflected the soft golden light from the chandeliers above, and every step of my heels echoed through the vastness of the space. Even surrounded by luxury, I knew I was still the most captivating thing in the hall–and I didn’t say that out of arrogance, but out of carefully calculated
intent.
We moved further inside, flanked by two of my bodyguards, Clara walking just a step behind, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of trouble. Ahead
of us, the police officer I’d hired for today’s protection walked briskly, clearing a path without ever needing to speak. It was an unusual sight, a billionaire walking into an auction with such visible security–but in my case, it was a necessary precaution, and perhaps it only added to the mystery for the
onlookers.
A man in a finely tailored suit approached, his steps brisk and polite. His face was unfamiliar, but there was something in his posture-a forced kind of confidence–that told me he was trying to guess who I was. He stopped before us and offered a respectful bow.
“A good day to you, ma’am,” he greeted, then inclined his head to Damien. “And to you, sir.”
So, he didn’t know exactly who I was, then. The polite charm was the same I’d seen countless times from event managers, eager to impress anyone who might have deep enough pockets to spend a fortune. Especially someone who drew as many eyes as I did.
“I’m the manager here,” he continued, gesturing elegantly to the walls adorned with paintings and delicate sculptures on raised pedestals. “Would you like to see some of the finest paintings in the world, all up for auction today?”
I offered him a cool, practiced smile. “Not quite,” I said, voice steady and soft, yet carrying unmistakable authority.
“My eyes are already on the grandest prize,” I added, the words tasting like quiet determination.
Understanding flickered in his expression, and his posture seemed to straighten a little more. “Ah, then you must be referring to the Rolls–Royce Black Heart,” he said, the faintest hint of excitement creeping into his tone.
I simply nodded, the diamonds on my dress catching the light with even that small movement.
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14.40 Mon, 14
I tilted my head, letting a confident smile curve my lips beneath the mask. “I wouldn’t worry about that,” I replied. My voice was calm, yet each word dripped with certainty. If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was win.
His gaze lingered on me for a second longer before he nodded politely. “In that case, please follow me,” he said, turning to guide us toward a marble registration table at the edge of the hall.
We walked together, my dress trailing elegantly across the polished floor, drawing every gaze in the room like a moth to flame. Damien kept close by my side, his expression a blend of quiet amusement and protective watchfulness.
He cleared his throat awkwardly, his gaze shifting from the mask to the tablet in my hand. “I understand, but… it is mandatory, especially if you want to join the auction for this special car,” he said, his words trailing off as he seemed to realize who he was speaking to.
With a small smile, I turned around and gave Clara, who had been standing close behind us, a small nod. She stepped forward gracefully, already understanding what I wanted without me saying a word. That was the thing about having someone like Clara by your side for years: words often became
Together, we left the registration table and entered the main auction hall. The moment my heels crossed the threshold, I found myself silently admiring the interior. This hall was different–distinct from the other rooms we’d walked through earlier. The walls were painted a sleek, dark black that shimmered subtly under the warm lighting, giving the space an air of exclusivity and quiet power.
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