Page 42 of Gilded

LUKA

“ I don’t care how much it costs,” I tell Swag. “Outbid everyone. Fucking outbid yourself. Just make sure she gets at least twenty million.”

I hear Malia’s voice over a microphone welcoming the attendees, followed by a rousing round of applause.

I head toward the crowd and find Jairo waiting for me at the top with a scolding look. “What you just did is unforgivable.”

“Like I don’t know that?”

“If I ever see you do that again—to anyone—it will be the end of our friendship. Get your fucking shit together.”

Swag passes us, easily slipping through the crowd to separate himself.

I don’t want Malia knowing I’m behind the bidding.

I want her to experience the sense of accomplishment of placing every fucking Lego in that snake.

I want her to have the hope that twenty million tucked away somewhere will give her.

I want her leaving here knowing she’s not stuck in this life.

“You’re way too close to the edge,” Jairo says. “Don’t fuck this up. It’s not just about you. We all need this. Including Malia.”

“I know.”

“She deserves better.”

“I know that too.”

Malia is a bright and elegant speaker. She’s also an incredible actress because, based on her expression when she heard me make a complete bastard of myself, she was about to have a mental meltdown, but she looks utterly joyful now.

She introduces the charity, Finding Forever, and the crowd loves the idea.

Zeiger moves through the crowd and stops beside me, looking toward Malia as if he’s listening. “Your job with Malia is over.”

Jairo shifts beside me, a silent reminder to keep my mouth shut and my focus tight.

“Good.” I force the word out of my mouth. “That will allow me to dedicate myself to the security plans for the rest of the locations. We can launch the restructuring of South America while I develop plans for the rest. I need to see them all to create a comprehensive game plan.”

“That’s not what we agreed to.”

“You heard Tarik. He wants movement, and you can’t afford more uprisings like the one in Colombia.

South America was a test. I get that. But we’ve succeeded, and we’re ready to implement.

” I’m fighting to keep the desperation on lockdown.

“The best way to do that is with a combination of bird’s-eye view and boots on the ground.

The only way we can get that is if we have all the locations. ”

Zeiger looks at me, assessing, then faces forward again with a muttered “I’ll discuss it with Hugo.”

Then he moves toward the stage just as someone pulls the curtain, exposing the snake, which has been positioned on a platform. The specialty lights illuminate the mind-boggling, intricate details. It’s truly incredible. Like its maker.

Everyone’s oohs and aahs mix with light applause, along with a lot of curious murmuring.

“I know this is quite a departure from teddy bears and architecture,” she says with a soft, self-deprecating laugh that also amuses others.

“But I’ve found myself thinking about the concept of duality a lot lately, and snakes are a perfect example of one of the most basic conceptions of duality—good and evil. ”

Her gaze finds mine. There, I see hurt and anger and disappointment. It feels as if she’s reached into my chest and gripped my heart. I can see from across the space that she’s put up another shield.

She holds my gaze as she says, “Light and dark. Truth and lie. Hot and cold. Honest and deceptive. Jekyll and Hyde.”

Ouch.

“You so deserve that,” Jairo mutters beside me.

“In ancient cultures,” she says, returning her gaze to the crowd, “snakes were seen as symbols of deity, creativity, and healing.The caduceus, the emblem of physicians, still features a healing serpent. But snakes were also seen as symbols of evil, danger, and destruction.In modern times, people who are disreputable or treacherous are sometimes called snakes.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jairo mutters. “That girl’s got a steel set of balls.”

“Many children in the foster care system have been living in the dark,” she continues.

“They feel cast aside, misunderstood, lost, and alone. Many believe life will be a never-ending struggle. But within that suffering lives the possibility of finding one’s own extraordinary power.

Loss can bring new gifts. Open up aspects of duality in life that can then expose one’s true purpose.

I believe you need darkness for your own light to shine brighter. ”

She pauses, and I realize I’m breathless. My chest is tight. I feel like she’s speaking straight to my soul. Both embracing me in understanding and pushing me away at the same time.

“If this piece or this belief resonates with you”—she gestures toward the snake—“I hope you will bid generously and create a guiding light for children so they can find their forever home.”

Everyone claps as she steps off the stage and stands nearby as a man replaces her, a professional auctioneer, judging by his flamboyant speech.

He gives some data about the structure—number of blocks: 92,450, weight: upward of four hundred pounds, time to build: over eight hundred hours.

I watch Malia’s profile, already aching over my stupidity. Over hurting someone who’s already been hurt over and over. Someone who couldn’t deserve it less.

Soren steps up next to her, blocking my view, and my pain is replaced by fury. He puts his arm around her, which makes her shift uncomfortably. He says something in her ear, and she turns her head sharply. I read her lips when she asks, “Why?”

She accepts whatever he’s said without argument, but her expression is troubled when her gaze drifts past Soren and meets mine. What I see is a whole hell of a lot of complex emotions, and I’m sure Soren just told her my job with her has ended.

When the auctioneer starts bidding, Swag calls out two million, which gets a round of surprised murmurs and light applause.

Malia’s gaze darts to Swag, lips parted in surprise.

The bidding takes off in a flurry, and Swag expertly pushes it past twenty million.

Who knew haggling in the street as dirty, hungry kids would have led us here?

“Sold to the man in black for twenty million, five hundred thousand.”

Rousing applause fills the room, and while Malia claps, she meets my gaze again. I instantly realize she knows Swag is with me. She probably saw us talking. And I see a whole lot more anger. She gives a small shake of her head and holds my gaze until I look away.

She doesn’t have to like it. She doesn’t even have to like me. But I’m going to take care of her as best as I can. And I still have about twelve hours to figure out how to end this marriage before it begins while keeping my men and my mission safe.

People drift back into conversations, and some say goodbyes as Malia meets Swag at the center of the ballroom and shakes his hand.

Swag is a charmer, like Jairo, and he almost instantly makes her smile.

They make a little small talk, and by the time they end the conversation, Malia is wiping a tear from her cheek.

Zeiger interrupts to take Malia’s arm. She hands Swag what looks like a business card and thanks him. Then Zeiger pulls Malia toward me.

“Congratulations,” I tell her.

She doesn’t respond.

“We’re going home,” Zeiger says. “Hugo’s waiting for us.”