Page 22 of The Knight (Endgame 2)
He’s all business now, and I mourn the loss. “Are you staying for the auction?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Because he wants to see me lose? Or because he wants me to win? The small sting of hope must be some side effect of our encounter. I feel as if I sleepwalked and woke up by the fireplace, having dreamed the entire thing. Only I’m not sure when I fell asleep—in the attic?
Or maybe I went to sleep as a child, curled up in my bed, only waking now.Chapter ThirteenThe last day I spent in bed after Mama died Daddy came to me, his expression dark. He studied me with a grave finality, and I felt that deep pull to please him.
The bed dipped as he sat on the side.
“Look at what she did to us, Avery. She shouldn’t have gone that night. This is happening because she left.”
My eyes are wide. He was sad when we got the call about Mama. Desperate when he begged me to eat. I’d never seen him angry like this. “It wasn’t her fault.”
His gaze lands on me, a strange intensity. “You won’t leave, will you?” When I don’t answer right away, he demands, “Will you?”
My tummy clenches. “I won’t, Daddy.”
He regards me with approval. “There’s my good girl. This is where you’re safe.”
It seemed to be true. My childhood here was marked by kind smiles and warm parties.
That makes it all the more jarring when some of the men who arrive were at the auction for my virginity. I understand that there are only so many men in Tanglewood who have huge amounts of money to spend, but I feel paranoid too. As if they want to possess me in every way possible. There’s a man with gray hair who had a beautiful woman in a glamorous dress—now the same woman has her hair in a tight bun, a suit crafted to her body.
Gabriel Miller stood at the back of the room at my auction, taunting me, challenging me, until he finally threw out the winning bid. Now he stands at the back in a different capacity, as the temporary owner of this home. Not gaining something today. Losing something.
“The opening bid will be low,” Charlotte whispers, taking me aside as the attendees tour the house. “The last thing you want to do is get in a bidding war, going up in increments. That kind of thing is going to end high. These guys are competitive. They want to win.”
“But they all have more money than me. They can win if they want to.”
“That’s why you need to go high fast. I know it’s counterintuitive, but it’s—”
“Game theory,” I say, because sociology was a major component of ancient mythology. In a sequential game, the more bids there are the more complex the decision tree. And in the case of an auction, the only direction to go is up. “The sooner I win the better chance I have of winning at all.”
“Exactly,” she says before hurrying over to a man with questions. All of them are allowed to inspect the house prior to the auction.
There are folding chairs brought in, which only emphasizes the lack of furniture. More and more the house is hollow, a once-grand oak tree now brittle and dead.
“We’re about to begin,” Charlotte announces.
Some men in suits sit down, holding cardboard placards. I head over to Gabriel, determined to ignore my embarrassment. The knowing glint in his eyes speaks to mouths and hands, to the touch I can still feel in the secret places on my body.
“The diary,” I say, my voice soft so no one else hears.
He shakes his head slowly. “I think I’ll hold on to it.”
Desperation is a fist around my heart. “Please, Gabriel.”
“I do love hearing you say my name. Even more when you’re naked and spread wide, when—”
“Stop.” My cheeks flush. “It’s my mother’s diary. She means everything to me. And if I don’t win this auction, it’s all I’ll have left.”
“Then you should try to win.”
Helplessness steals the air from me. I want to slap him again, but then everyone in the room would see my anger. My weakness. Most of them already know that Gabriel Miller bought me at auction. They know we’ve had sex, even if they don’t know he was touching me just minutes ago. I won’t let them see me affected by it.
I look at the fireplace, where a portrait of my mother used to hang. Even that was sold to an estate dealer, the artist famous enough to command a decent resale value. “Tell me this much. Do you think a million dollars is enough?”
With his command of real estate, with his personal knowledge of the people in this room, he will know how the bidding will be. “The truth is, I’m not sure.”
