Chapter 7: Auction Night

Jace’s Pov

El PEDRANI- MEXICO CITY, MEXICO.

Dressed in a navy-blue Armani suit and Louboutin shoes. I stare at my new look; fresh, cool, and sophisticating. I struggle with my slicked-back hair because I have always been used to my hair down. All these are Nickolai’s efforts to make me match his style.

After getting to Mexico, we spent the day going from one designer store to another, trying out different outfits. Don’t even get me started with the hairstylists. The trip so far has been tiring, but Marc’s presence made my day. Each time I ask for Marc’s opinion on my outfits, it throws Nickolai off. I enjoy the satisfaction I get from his jealousy.

On getting to the venue, the valet attendant opened the door to the black Rolls-Royce with a warm smile. And direct us to the hall after collecting the car key from Nickolai. A sense of déjà vu struck me about the night I met Nickolai again after five years.

Nickolai places his hand on my waist as he leads the way. “Hey, I prepared a gift for you.” He says, slipping his hand down my waist.

His sudden words called my attention. “I didn’t ask for one”. I replied, slapping away his hands. He smirks.

“Aren’t you a bit curious?”

“No, and I have no interest in your guess games,” I said dismissively. However, he continues. “I promise, you’ll like it”. I ignore him as I check out the entire room: cameras, guards, exits, and of course, the best option to my escape mission. I know the fact that Marc is on standby.

The main plan is to escape Nickolai's clutches. I just have to find the perfect opportunity when he is meeting his partners and acquaintances.

Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. Nickolai literally took me along to meet every one of the partners, both the ones I knew adequate information about and the ones I didn’t know. Just when we ended the conversation with the last partner. The host announced to introduce the product they will be launching to the audience.

 I didn’t really pay attention to the auction; rather, I was focused on finding an escape exit. It wasn't until the product was revealed that I realized it was a high-value firearm being launched.

 l After scanning the whole room thoroughly, I finally found an exit at the deep end of the room, it is also closer to the restroom. Just when I was thinking of the perfect excuse. I crashed into a waiter, sending the whole tray of champagne down. The liquid stain on my jacket is the perfect excuse to get to the restroom.

Nickolai, being a perfectionist, won’t let this slide. The spilled drinks and Nickolai’s scolding of the waiter drew a lot of attention. I quickly slip through the crowd on the excuse of going to the restroom. I hurriedly head for the exit, but before I could reach the door, a hand pulled me into the restroom. Everything happened in a rush, and I couldn’t see the person’s face.

Suddenly, I was pushed into a stall, and the person followed after. It can’t be Marc; he should be out of the hall on standby. Just when I was wondering who it was. The person backing me in the stall turned around, and there he is, Umar.

*                                                              *                                                                                 *

Nickolai’s Pov.

It’s been a while. I can’t believe I got tricked.  The little distraction game that made me lose sight of Jace. I fervently searched around the large room for any familiar face or figure. A boiling heat spreads through my chest as my eyes scour the crowd—faces blurring into one, chatter dimming into static. My pulse is sharp, cold, violent.

He wouldn’t dare.

Jace was just here. Smiling faintly, cheeks flushed from the champagne I forced into his hand. His beauty stood out even in this glittering crowd of elites who pretend their money buys them elegance. He was mine, planted at my side, like a fragile jewel in the palm of a monster. And now he’s gone.

A muscle jumps in my jaw.

I feel it—the shift in the air. He thinks he can slip away. He thinks I won’t notice. Foolish.

I motion to Sergei, one of my men. My voice cuts through the noise like steel.

“Find him. Now.”

Sergei disappears instantly. Good. But I cannot simply stand here. I weave through the ballroom, my presence parting people like a knife through silk. Women glance my way, their painted lips curling into smiles, but I don’t see them. Men avoid my eyes, their false bravado crumbling as they sense the storm beneath my skin.

Every second he’s out of sight feeds the wildfire inside me. My Jace, my fragile, defiant little flame—someone could be speaking to him, touching him, looking at him in a way they shouldn’t. The thought makes my pulse thrum with dark rage.

My jaw tenses as I move through the guests, brushing past women in sequined gowns and men in tailored suits, my patience thinning by the second. The waiters scurry from me like shadows sensing fire.

“Find him.” I bark at one of my men, who immediately vanishes into the sea of bodies.

A memory stings me—the way Jace’s lips had curled when Marc commented on his suit earlier. That flicker of rebellion. That thrill he takes in making me jealous. My fists clench at the thought. He doesn’t understand what it means to be mine. Not yet.

But he will. And then, through the static of music and chatter, I hear something. A whisper carried by instinct. I don’t know how, but I know: he’s near the restrooms.

My lips curve into the faintest smile.

 I sense it. Like a predator scenting prey. He’s here.

My steps lead me toward the hallway near the restrooms, every nerve in my body wired. A quiet smile plays on my lips, sharp and deadly.

Jace thinks he can run? That he can hide from me?

Jace’s POV

The second I step into the restroom corridor, Umar pulls me into the shadows, into one of the stalls. My heart races so violently, I’m certain Nickolai could hear it from across the room if he cared to listen.

When I look at Umar, I barely recognize him. The man I once knew—gentle eyes, soft laughter—has been replaced by sharp edges. His jaw is tighter, his gaze like tempered steel. But beneath that hardness, I still see it—the ghost of something that once made me feel safe.

“What are you doing here?” My voice trembles, my body tense.

“Saving you,” he snaps, as though the word itself is a command. His grip on my arm is firm, too firm, his thumb pressing into my skin.

I shove at his chest. He doesn’t move.

“I don’t need you to save me, Umar.”

He laughs bitterly. “Don’t lie to yourself. I know what he’s done to you. You don’t belong to him.”

My breath stutters. My mind flashes with memories—Nickolai’s hands gripping my waist too tightly, his lips brushing mine with a hunger that left me breathless and shaken, the way he looks at me like I’m both fragile glass and a possession he’ll never let go.

I’m confused and scared … Umar now stands here, the only person from my past who knows what I was before Nickolai. Before all of this.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper, my throat tight. “If he finds you—”

Umar grips my chin, forcing my gaze up to meet his. His touch is rough, desperate. His eyes bore into mine, and for a second, I feel the man I used to know flicker through the cracks.

“I’m not afraid of him,” Umar growls. “But you… You’re mine, Jace. You always were.”

The air is heavy. My pulse roars in my ears. A thousand words get trapped in my throat.

“No,” I manage to whisper, though even I don’t believe my voice. “You don’t understand. You can’t fight him. You’ll lose.”

“Then let me lose,” he says, his voice shaking. “As long as I take you away from him first.”

Nickolai’s POV

There it is again. That pull in my chest. Like an invisible thread tugging me forward, unraveling my patience with every step.

The hallway is quieter, the music of the ballroom muffled behind me. My shoes strike the marble floor, each step echoing like the countdown of a clock. Tick. Tick. Tick.

And then I hear it—muffled voices. Low, strained. A man’s voice. Not mine.

The fury that burns through me is cold, controlled, a blade rather than a wildfire. My breath slows, my mind sharpens. Whoever dared follow him in here will learn the cost of touching what’s mine.

I stop in front of the restroom door. My hand hovers over it, my lips curling into something cruel.

Jace’s POV

Umar leans closer, his forehead nearly brushing mine. His hand slides to the back of my neck, rough, claiming. My body stiffens, panic crawling through me.

“Don’t—” I whisper. “Please, Umar—”

“Why?” His voice breaks. “Why him, Jace? Do you even know what kind of monster he is?”

My eyes sting. A bitter laugh escapes me. “Of course I know.”

Silence stretches between us. His grip loosens slightly, as though my words cut deeper than he expected.

“I stayed,” I add, my voice breaking, “because I don’t have a choice.”

His silence was an answer loud enough to shake me.

Outside the stall, the hum of voices and clinking glasses drifted faintly, muffled by the restroom walls. But the weight of this moment pressed harder than the chaos outside. My escape plan had just fractured into pieces—Marc waiting at the exit, Nickolai hunting for me, and now Umar, like a ghost from the past, clawing back into my present.

I forced my voice steady. “If you’re here to rescue me, you’re late. If you’re here to hurt me—”

Umar’s hand shot up, pressing against my mouth, silencing me. His eyes bore into mine, deadly serious now. “Quiet. You think Nickolai is your worst problem tonight? You have no idea what’s coming.”

The door to the restroom creaked open. Voices entered—two men speaking in Spanish, their laughter sharp, laced with liquor. Umar pulled me flush against him, angling his body to shield me as if we were just another couple caught in a secret embrace. My heart pounded so violently I feared Nickolai himself might hear it if he entered.

The strangers left as quickly as they had come, the door swinging shut. Umar exhaled, finally loosening his grip.

“Listen carefully,” he whispered, his lips brushing dangerously close to my ear. “The firearm launched tonight—it’s not just a weapon. It’s a declaration. Nickolai isn’t just playing businessman anymore. He’s preparing for war. And when that war starts, you will be nothing more than his pretty pawn.”

The words dug into me, but before I could reply, the stall door jerked violently open.