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For the life of me, I didn’t expect to have to deal with this striking auctioneer who makes my cock hard and my heart race with the need to possess her.

I wondered what Lucian was playing at when she arrived, but it’s clear that he’s as clueless as I am. It’s obvious that she has no idea about art dealing or being an auctioneer, but she does have a little knowledge of art—enough to convince the rich old fools who just want to spend their money on the most expensive artifact.

Why is she here?

“Well, I-I’m not for sale,” a soft, husky voice interrupts the excited chatter in the room.

It pulls me out of my thoughts, and for some reason my lips pull to the side in a smile. Despite her fear, she spoke up for herself. It makes me even more attracted to her.

Sergio guffaws, his laughter grating on my nerves. “Who do you think you are to object? Everything in this room has a price, even you,” he declares, then laughs noisily. It mingles with the spattering of laughter in the room.

Then Sergio turns to Lucian. “Lucian, I want that hot piece of ass for a plaything. The one I bought last month isn’t any fun anymore. And I hear redheads are feisty in bed.” He guffaws again, and this time the whole room joins in.

Distaste spreads inside me as I take in his red face and greedy eyes. Violence becomes a living breathing fire that burns through me as I take in the growing fear in her brown eyes. The need to protect her from his rotten soul beats at me.

She’s mine, and no one dares to take what’s mine.

Fuck. Where did that thought come from?

Still, I straighten in my seat. What if I declare ownership of her? Just to protect her from their grubby hands. Everyone knows not to fuck with me. And if Sergio needs a reminder, then I’m happy to oblige.

I turn to Lucian, arching a brow, my eyes telling him to do something or I’ll intervene. I know he’s in a difficult position due to his role here at the chapel, since his father is the owner of this entire operation. Lucian shares my distaste for the auctions that take place in the main auction hall, and he prefers to deal in artwork, not women. His expression assures me he’ll do his best to talk his way out of this.

I shift my gaze back to the woman on stage, only to find her eyes on me. My heart warms, and I almost smile reassuringly at her.

What the fuck?

“Now, Sergio,” Lucian drawls. “We’re here to talk about art. And I’ve got the Van Gogh you’ve been dying to own. You can purchase a new plaything another time.”

I turn to watch Sergio’s lips part with greed at the prospect of owning the famous piece, but then they turn down in a sneer and my hands bunch into fists.

“The idea is tempting, Lucian,” he says in an offhand manner. “But I doubt I’ll find her the next time I want to buy a new plaything. Besides, I have enough money to buy both the art and her. Name your price.”

Voices mingle, rising in support of Sergio’s statement.

“Yes!”

“Name your price!”

Greedy fuckers.

A soft growl of warning almost leaves my lips, and it takes years of hard-won discipline to hold it in. I don’t understand the possessiveness I feel, or the flare of protective instincts at the sight of her distressed state.

I want to keep this woman happy and safe at all costs, and it’s alarming how strong the need is. What is it about her that pulls at the base of my being and makes me want to give her everything? I try to ignore it, but I can’t. It’s all-consuming and quickly taking over the sane part of my mind.

“Alright, everyone,” Lucian declares with a raised brow. “If I’m going to allow this to happen, then anyone who pays to own her will forfeit their initial plan to buy any art tonight.”

There’s a resounding silence as the men contemplate their decisions. In that moment, my gaze shifts to meet Lucian’s. I don’t know what he’s playing at, but I don’t think his idea will work. Most of these men have more than enough money to buy whatever the fuck they want whenever they want.

“I agree,” Sergio says, confirming my thoughts.

Lucian’s expression barely changes, but as he meets my eyes again I know what he’s saying:This is out of my hands. You want to protect her? You buy her.

Before long, the whole room is agreeing with Sergio, and I listen, my body rigid with molten anger, as they haggle and bid for her.

“Three million,” Sergio calls out, countering a two million bid.

It’s obvious that he’s determined to have the gorgeous redhead. I should join in, but it goes against my moral code to bid on a living person as if they’re cattle.