“$85 million!” another roared, followed quickly by “$86 million” from the back.
My stomach was in knots, the amounts higher than all the winning bids of the night combined by a long shot. It made me sick. Disgusted. Angry. I wanted to scream, but I kept my mouth shut, standing dutifully by Ethan’s side, wondering if I knew my friend at all.
How could he stomach it? What was he doing there? He wasn’t anything like them. They were thing people. Ethan wasn’t. At least I thought he wasn’t.
He was focused on the action while looking somewhat bored, his mouth in an emotionless line as his eyes traveled between bidders. In his suit he blended right in, though the loosened tie and flared collar were distinctly Ethan, not-so-subtle hints of the man I adored breaking through the polished veneer.
He caught me staring, mouthing a quick “you okay?” as he squeezed my upper arm gently.
I nodded. I was okay. I’d continue to be, too. But I’d never step foot in another society party. Ever. There was a reason I’d left them in the past, the air thick with narcissism and greed. I couldn’t leave soon enough.
“$90 million!” a voice screeched right behind us, coming out more like a shriek than a bid.
The auctioneer unleashed a hearty chuckle into the mic, the auction unfolding unlike anything I’d imagined. I’d only seen the mile-a-minute talkers in the movies, nothing like the tuxedo-wearing suave talker and his gang of money-hungry macaques. “Can we top $90 million, ladies and gents? This is a one of a kind piece that the press will be covering extensively!”
“$105 million!” the Englishman called out.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I was going to be sick.
“You want to go?” Ethan asked, his voice cutting through the fog of numbers flying around, the bid climbing higher and higher.
I shook my head, forcing myself to stay put despite the churning in my stomach. I’d stay for Dad. I’d suck up the experience for him, knowing how much he loved all things Lorelei. He’d give his arm to be in my place. “Just a little overwhelming, that’s all.” Overwhelming and confusing, but I’d have time to ask him questions if he walked me to the T afterward. Like what the hell he was doing there with such animals.
“It’s batshit fucking crazy,” he muttered, a prissy woman in front of us whirling with a horrified look on her face at his language.
Giggles came pouring out of me, a stern glare delivered by the same woman making them fifty times worse.
Ethan smiled, the ice around him cracking at last, the friendly face I knew too well emerging again. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
He led me gently by the hand, clearing a path through the crowd effortlessly. At six-foot-five, he was a wall of a man, forcing those around us out of the way without saying a word, his body doing all the talking.
“$123 million!” the Arabic man shouted as we neared an exit. I’d lost track of the bidding, but apparently it was a sizable jump as people audibly gasped around the room.
“$123 million for Bidder 103! Do we have $123.1 million? This is a prime Ever piece, one sure to make the history books. $123 million going once…”
The room remained silent, except for the tap of my heels across the floor.
“Twice….”
Just as Ethan pushed open the curtain into fresh air the auctioneer shouted out, “Sold!” The entire room broke into hysterics, the final auction of the night a monstrosity.
“If we hurry, we won’t have to hear the self-absorbed fucks chat about themselves all the way to the street.” Ethan’s words were joking, but his tone had a bite to it.
“If we go too fast, I might snap an ankle,” I warned, my stilettos wobbling on the asphalt walkway. One wayward acorn and I’d be livin’ la vida broken bones.
“I can carry you,” he offered, stopping so suddenly I toppled into his back, a solid barrier of man halting me in my tracks.
“I’m fine.” As flattered as I was, the whole world didn’t need to be flashed. My dress would barely pass for decent if he lifted me up. At 5’9”, most things were short on me, but the sparkling mini bronze number was the only thing I could find in my price range.
He nodded and continued on, my feet screaming in protest with every step. Thankfully he couldn’t see me in the dark, since I was sure I looked like a penguin treading mud.
The slight jostling of tree branches in the wind kept us company as we hurried along, Ethan not kidding about being dead-set on reaching the sidewalk before the crowds. I was surprised I could keep up, though his hand tugging me along definitely helped.
The normally friendly historic statues were eerie as we passed by, casting large, looming shadows in the moonlight. I never thought of the grounds as scary, but I wouldn’t want to be alone in the park at night after looking up at the mounted George Washington. He could easily pass for a headless horseman in the dark. No thank you.
“I wonder who it is,” I muttered, eager to stir conversation to distract from my toes planning a mutiny.
Ethan slowed for me to catch up, the two of us walking hand in hand at one another’s side. “Who?”
“Ever.” Whoever it was, they were $123 million richer.
“Doesn’t everyone?” he chuckled, eyes fixated on Arlington ahead, the cobblestone-lined street promising a hell of a walk once we reached it. “It’s a modern-day mystery.”
“I respect them, but I also can’t wait for them to be discovered.”
He glanced down with a raised brow, the shadows dancing across his face. “Why?”
“They have so much power yet hide away from the world.” If I had a platform like that, I’d be screaming from the rooftops
