Page 8 of Forced Mafia Bride
I, on the other hand, was going to enjoy destroying whoever it was. This was going to be fun, and I couldn’t remember the last time I had fun. I raised my board again.
“Fourteen thousand.”
She was quick, a lot quicker than last time. Her voice was strong and carried more volume when she tripled her challenge. “Twenty-four thousand.”
“Thirty-five.”
There was a sudden hush. But instinct told me it was a brooding silence. She was deliberating, considering, and weighing her options. More murmurs rose, and I began to think I’d hit her off her rocker when her voice bounced back even stronger.
“Fifty! Fifty thousand dollars for Silent!”
Her audaciousness struck a nerve, a nerve that tingled in amusement and irritation. I rubbed the button on my shirt and curled my fingers around the edges of the board. The game was fun while it lasted, but I was done playing.
“One hundred thousand.”
“One hundred thousand dollars from Number Seventy-Five for Silent. Anyone?”
Her board stayed down, and her voice remained trapped in her mouth. I uncrossed my legs when the anchor announced the winner of the Silent brawl.
“Number Seventy-five has it!”
I’d beat her at her own game and had every intention of savoring the sweet taste of victory. I craned my neck over my shoulder, hoping to have a purview of my challenger and opponent, and my mouth twitched to a frown when I saw her staring right back at me.
The quality of the lighting in the room was far from bright, which was the standard to protect the privacy of exclusive guests participating. But it did not pose as an obstruction to her beauty. The clear view of fair skin stuck out like a lit lamp in the darkness, submerging the black clothes in the dimness.
I held her eyes, and she held mine with a disturbing smile. A smile that should have been on my face, of a victor that triumphed over its conquest, making me believe that her target all the while was not the monument but something else.
It was me.
****
“Rosalyn Gallagher,” Anatoly said into the phone while I walked toward the black Tesla parked by the exit gate. He’d waited inside to confirm the young woman’s status and informed me once the auction was over.
I stopped by the car with a smile and adjusted the AirPod in my ear. “The Irish princess? Ronan’s half-sister?”
“Da.” Yes.“She is on her way out of the building. There’s a bodyguard in sight, but I can distract her.”
“Good.”
The call disconnected, and I tucked my hands into my pockets, waiting patiently for her to come out. Eventually, she did, with her head held high and that same triumphant smile permanently fixed on her mouth. Out in the open, she wasmore beautiful—her audacity more glaring and nothing like I expected.
Whatdid I expect?
The Gallagher brothers soiled their reputation after Cedric’s death, and it only grew worse after Sean passed. Not many people knew about their partially existent sister because they didn’t want the world to know for malicious reasons.
A girl like that should have been many things but bold. She should have shied away from the spotlight, events like the Escalade and the Bercyna.
I took cautious steps, walked up to her, and allowed my gaze to sweep from the intricate braiding on her red hair to the perfect fit of the simple but elegant black gown on her body and finally to the fluffy slippers on her feet. Not exactly the best option for an event like this.
A smirk curled up my lips, and I nudged toward them. “Interesting choice of footwear.”
She blushed, batted thick, dark lashes, and chewed the insides of her cheek, speaking to me as if we were long distant friends at a reunion. “It’s…it’s complicated.”
Her voice, even more melodious up close, sounded like the perfect blend of a flute and the low notes of an Opera singer. By the subtle drop in her tone, it was clear that her brother was unaware of her current location.
“I’m sure it is.” My gaze touched the fullness of her small mouth, and I dragged it back to her eyes. “Come on, let me give you a ride home.”
She brushed past me with no hesitation and ushered herself to the passenger’s side. I got in after her, feeling myself being pushed closer to the edge of uncertainty with the show of this woman’s bravado. When I started the car, she readily offered an address that wasnotRonan’s house.