Chapter 15

Gie felt adrift.

The bidding was over.

Her jewelry had sold for insane amounts, her name whispered among the elite, and yet—

She still hadn't caught her breath.

The moment the auction ended, the mood shifted—the stiff, formal tension of bidding wars and silent battles melted into an atmosphere of indulgence, celebration, and excess.

The afterparty had begun.

A World of Opulence

The ballroom had transformed.

Waiters wove through the crowd, carrying crystal glasses of champagne, trays of handcrafted delicacies, the kind of food that was meant to be savored, not devoured.

The music had changed—gone were the soft, elegant symphonies of the auction, replaced with a slow, sultry jazz tune, rich and inviting.

The people?

They had shed the tension of bidding, slipping into laughter, drinks, and whispers of deals made behind closed doors.

It was a different world, one Gie had never stepped into before.

And she?

She was just standing there, taking it all in.

Alina: Dancing and Flirting Like a Queen

Her sister had no such hesitation.

Alina was already on the dance floor, wrapped up in the arms of a very handsome, very rich man, laughing as they swayed to the music.

Gie watched, lips pressing together.

She had no idea how Alina did it—how she could blend into any environment, how she could flirt and dance and thrive in a place like this without a single ounce of doubt.

She wished she had even half that confidence.

Because right now?

She felt like she had been dropped onto another planet.

Laurent's Grand Plan

"Ma chérie!"

Laurent's voice snapped her out of her daze.

Before she could react, he looped an arm around hers, grinning.

"You've been standing here like a lost child, and I simply cannot allow it."

Gie groaned. "Laurent—"

"No, no, no protests!" he interrupted, waving a hand. "You are the artist of the night! The woman of the hour! And it is time you meet the man who just dropped five million dollars on one of your pieces."

Gie's stomach flipped.

She knew exactly who he meant.

Her pulse kicked up, her body going too warm too fast.

"I—I don't think that's necessary—"

Laurent ignored her entirely and started dragging her forward.

"Come now, Gie, you must at least say merci! It is only polite!"

She dug her heels in. "Laurent, I—"

But it was too late.

Because suddenly, they were standing in front of him.

Face to Face with Alexander Millers

Alexander was exactly where she had last seen him—seated in his exclusive VIP section, drink in hand, posture perfectly relaxed, looking like he had been born in this world of excess and power.

Up close, he was even more devastating.

His suit still looked impeccable, the black velvet absorbing the golden glow of the chandeliers, his earring—a piece she had made—catching the light just right.

And his gray eyes?

They locked onto her instantly.

Sharp. Calculating.

Like he already knew everything she was thinking.

Laurent, oblivious to her internal meltdown, beamed.

"Alexander, darling, allow me to introduce the incomparable Gie—creator of the very jewelry you so generously acquired."

Gie swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe.

"Mr. Millers," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

His gaze didn't waver.

"Miss Gie," he said smoothly, his voice like low, expensive whiskey.

And just like that, she felt it again—that ridiculous, stupid heat curling in her stomach, that awareness of him, of how dangerous he looked just sitting there.

Laurent, ever the social butterfly, chimed in before she could speak again.

"I insisted she come say hello! After all, it's not every day that a single piece of jewelry sells for five million."

Alexander's lips quirked slightly, but his eyes stayed on her.

"Of course," he murmured. "It's only right to meet the artist."

Gie didn't know what to say.

Her body still hadn't recovered from the shock of seeing him here, of having him look at her like she was something worth examining.

So she said the first thing that came to mind.

"Why did you buy it?"

Laurent nearly gasped. "Ma chérie—!"

But Alexander?

He looked amused.

"You sound surprised," he said, tilting his head slightly.

Gie flushed. "I mean—you didn't have to bid so high."

The smirk he gave her was devastatingly slow.

"Didn't I?"

Gie's breath hitched.

Laurent, sensing a shift in the conversation, grinned like a Cheshire cat and excused himself.

"Ah, I'll leave you two to chat! So much mingling to do!"

And then—he was gone.

Leaving just her and Alexander.

A Game She Didn't Know How to Play

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Gie's fingers twitched, unsure what to do, unsure what this was.

Alexander leaned back in his chair, watching her.

"You still haven't thanked me," he mused.

She blinked. "For what?"

"For letting you win last time."

She remembered that night when she won the stone but didn't say anything else.

"Or valuing your work," he said smoothly.

She frowned. "I don't need validation."

He smiled, but there was something unreadable in his expression.

"Maybe not," he said. "But I think you enjoyed seeing it happen."

Gie opened her mouth—to deny it, to argue—but she stopped.

Because he was right.

She had enjoyed it.

Seeing her art be desired, fought over, bought at an impossible price—it had given her a rush, a thrill.

And Alexander knew it.

His gray eyes held hers, and for the first time that night, she realized—

She wasn't just talking to a client.

She was talking to a man who had just spent five million dollars to own something she had made.

And that?

That made her his.

At least for tonight.

Gie wasn't used to this.

To being in front of him like this.

To the way he looked at her—not with open flirtation, not with obvious hunger, but with something calm, something measured, like he had all the time in the world to figure her out.

And that was worse.

She could handle men who threw compliments at her, who tried too hard to impress, who made their intentions obvious.

But Alexander Millers?

He was the kind of man who didn't need to try at all.

And somehow, that made it infinitely more dangerous.

The Shy, Stumbling Conversation

She wasn't usually like this.

She wasn't shy.

She was confident in her work, in her skills, in her place in the world of luxury.

But sitting across from him—

Her words tumbled out in nervous, excessive rambles.

"I honestly didn't expect you to be here. Most buyers just send people in their place, you know? I mean, I get it, these events are long, and the bidding process can be so tedious, not that I know what it's like to actually bid—I've never had to, obviously—but I imagine sitting through an entire auction just to raise a number on a screen isn't exactly thrilling for you—"

She caught herself.

Her cheeks burned.

"—I mean, not that I'm saying you don't enjoy the process, I just—" She exhaled sharply. "I should stop talking now."

Alexander's lips ticked up slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"You talk a lot when you're nervous," he noted.

Gie groaned internally. "That obvious?"

"A little."

She huffed. "Great."

He tilted his head slightly, studying her. "You didn't seem nervous before."

"That's because I didn't think I'd have to talk to anyone tonight," she admitted.

"And yet, here you are."

"Against my will," she muttered under her breath.

He chuckled softly. "You're handling it well."

She shot him a look. "I just talked for two minutes straight without making a coherent point."

"You were endearing."

Gie blinked.

Her stomach flipped at the word.

She wasn't sure if that was meant to be a compliment, but coming from him?

It felt like one.

The Earring That Changed the Air

It was then that she noticed it again.

His earring.

The one she had designed.

It looked so good on him, the black diamond catching the golden glow of the chandeliers, the obsidian detail subtly hugging the curve of his ear like it had been meant for his skin.

"You like me wearing it," he murmured.

Gie's breath caught.

It wasn't a question.

It was a statement.

A fact he had already figured out.

And just like that—

The air shifted.

Because he was right.

She liked it too much.

And the moment he said it, her mind betrayed her completely.

The Thought She Shouldn't Have Had

Suddenly, she wasn't in this ballroom anymore.

Suddenly, she was imagining things she shouldn't be imagining.

Him.

Wearing only the jewelry she had made.

The earring.

The ring he had bought tonight.

Nothing else.

The image slammed into her mind, vivid and inescapable.

Alexander Millers—naked, his skin flushed with heat, his body moving against hers, his hands pinning her down, his voice low and controlled, telling her exactly how he was going to—

Oh, God.

She felt it instantly.

The rush of wetness between her legs, the slow, throbbing ache building in her core, the way her thighs instinctively pressed together beneath the table.

She was getting turned on.

Right here.

Right now.

In the middle of an elite event, seated across from the very man responsible for ruining her sanity.

She wanted to sink into the floor.

She wanted to disappear.

But worst of all?

She couldn't stop thinking about it.

Her fingers curled into her lap, nails pressing against her palm as she tried to focus on anything else, anything that wasn't the thought of him wearing nothing but her work and claiming her in ways she couldn't even put into words.

He must not know.

He cannot know.

She forced a breath, forced herself to look away, forced herself to pretend like she wasn't falling apart just from sitting across from him.

He hadn't moved, still watching her, still calm, still impossibly in control.

She, on the other hand?

She was about two seconds away from completely unraveling.

And the worst part?

She had no idea how to stop it.