(9) Diamond is a Girl's Best Friend

The city lights blurred past Violet's window in streaks of amber and white, their familiar glow doing little to distract her from the magnetic pull of anticipation building in her chest. Samuel drove with ease through the Manhattan streets, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on her thigh.

"Where are we going?" Violet asked, though her eyes had already caught the distinctive silhouette rising against the night sky. She squinted, needing to confirm what her heart already knew.

"Rockefeller Center," Samuel answered, a smug smile playing at his lips.

He navigated past the cluster of paparazzi camped outside the iconic building, their cameras flashing like trapped lightning bugs. He steered the car toward the private parking entrance with the confidence of a man who belonged in spaces others only dreamed of entering.

"No, you didn't!" Violet's voice pitched upward with such excitement that Samuel laughed

The sound warm and indulgent. The moment he shifted the car into park, he reached into his jacket and produced two velvet envelopes, their rich fabric catching the dim interior light.

"Yes, baby. We're bidders here at Christie's tonight." He leaned closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "And I heard they have that pretty Krupp diamond ring up for auction."

He moved to kiss her, but Violet bypassed his lips entirely, wrapping her arms around him in a crushing embrace that spoke of dreams about to come true.

"Oh, Sammy! You're the best!" She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes sparkling with more than just the city lights. "I'm going to let the world know you're pampering me as much as you can. Mwah~"

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a faint imprint of gloss that Samuel didn't bother to wipe away. He was too pleased with himself, too satisfied by her reaction to care about appearances.

Violet was practically floating as she stepped out of the car, her Jimmy Choos clicking against the pavement in a rhythm that matched her racing heart.

This was it, the kind of elite gathering she'd fantasized about since she was a girl watching old movies on her grandmother's television.

Successful names, powerful connections, the kind of fame that opened doors and kept them open.

"The Krupp diamond, oh... I can't wait, Sammy!" She looped her arm through his as they made their way toward the entrance, her excitement bubbling over in exclamations. "Not even Charity had the chance to attend this event, hah!"

The name left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she pushed it aside. Tonight was about her. Tonight, she would take another step toward the life she deserved-!

"Mr. and Mrs. Collins, what a surprise."

The voice cut through Violet's euphoria like a blade, sharp and unwelcome. Her joy evaporated in an instant, replaced by something cold and prickling at the base of her skull. She turned slowly, her smile fixed in place like a mask that had frozen mid-expression.

Vivianne Goldthorne stood before them, resplendent in a sapphire dress that seemed to absorb the surrounding light and hold it captive. Beside her, the perpetually gentle-looking Paige stood as , his presence of silent proof to the world these people moved in.

A world Violet desperately wanted entry to.

Of course. Of course she's here..

Violet forced her smile wider, the muscles in her cheeks aching from the effort. "You are?"

The words came out sweet as poison, a deliberate dismissal meant to wound, to show that the woman was beneath her notice. In elite society, to forget someone's name was the cruelest cut, a declaration that they simply didn't matter.

Charity's expression remained unchanged, her prim posture unruffled by the provocation.

"Vivianne Goldthorne." She offered the name with the same calm one might use to identify the weather. "It's nice meeting here. If you'll excuse me."

She cast one lingering glance at the couple, at Violet specifically before following Paige toward the elevator. Something flickered in that gaze, too quick to identify, too deep to dismiss.

Violet watched her go, her forced smile finally crumbling into something uglier.

The elevator doors closed, and she felt the familiar burn of irritation crawling up her spine, settling somewhere behind her eyes. That woman. That infuriating woman. Why does she have to be everywhere?

Samuel squeezed her arm, pulling her from her spiral. "Let's go, honey. We have a ring to win."

Right. The ring.

She shoved Vivianne's image aside and allowed herself to be guided toward the bidding area, the promise of diamonds and status pushing the venom from her thoughts.

The elevator ride was mercifully brief for Charity, the kind of silent ascent that spoke of luxury and discretion.

She kept her eyes forward, her reflection a ghost in the polished brass doors. Beside her, Paige stood with his characteristic stillness, the kind of calm that had drawn everyone to him in the first place.

"Mr. Cassian is waiting." Paige smiled at her as the elevator chimed its arrival, a gentle reassurance that did little to ease the knot in her stomach.

The doors slid open to reveal a corridor of deep burgundy carpet and soft lighting, the kind of understated wealth that didn't need to shout. Paige gestured toward a door at the end, its surface unmarked but somehow imposing.

"Mr. Cassian is waiting," he repeated, and there was something almost apologetic in his tone.

He opened the door with a quiet click and stepped aside, giving her one last smile before she crossed the threshold alone.

The door closed behind her with a soft thud that echoed in the silence.

The room was a masterpiece of private luxury. Velvet surfaces that seemed to absorb sound, leather seating that portrays unimaginable expense, and the subtle scent of wealth that Charity had never quite gotten used to, no matter how many times she found herself in spaces like this.

And in the center of it all sat Lucas Cassian.

He lounged on a couch facing the pedestal where the bidding screen lay dormant, his posture deceptively relaxed. His eyes were closed, his head resting against the back of his hand in an attitude that might have been exhaustion or might have been profound disinterest.

Charity took a moment to simply look at him, to let herself acknowledge the impossible unfairness of it all.

He was absolutely gorgeous. Those sharp cheekbones, that jaw that could cut glass, the dark hair that fell across his forehead with the careless perfection of someone who had never once worried about his appearance in his entire life.

A man like that should have been kind, should have been gentle, should have been anything but the predator she knew him to be.

What a shame.

She rolled her eyes and moved toward the seat farthest from him, calculating the distance with the precision of someone who had learned to read his moods. If she could just--

A hand grabbed her waist.

The world tilted, and suddenly she was seated on something that was most definitely not a chair. Something warm and solid and very, very male.

"Y-you are awake." Her voice came out shakier than she intended, betraying her shock at his sudden animation.

The man had been a statue moments ago, and now his grip on her hip was an undeniable presence, a brand that she could feel through the expensive fabric of her gown.

"Bidding starts soon," Lucas said, his tone as nonchalant as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

A man of few words, as always. His gaze traveled from her shoulder down to her heels, a slow assessment that made her feel both exposed and oddly flattered.

"Great dress."

"Thank you, Mr. Cassian." She cleared her throat, trying to find her footing in this unexpected closeness. "Paige chose it for me."

Something flickered in his eyes, too fast to read, too fleeting to hold onto. His breath hitched, just barely, a reaction so faint she might have imagined it. Then he raised a brow, and the moment shattered.

"Looks too cheap."

"Cheap?!" The word screamed in her head, a thousand protests dying before they reached her lips.

Ten million dollars..ten million dollars, and he called it cheap?

The gown had been selected with care, with precision, with an understanding of what this world demanded. And now this man, this impossible, infuriating man, had dismissed it in a single word.

"Ten million dollars, cheap, huh." She murmured her disagreement, keeping her voice level even as annoyance prickled at her skin.

It was a mistake, she realized too late. She had just revealed how out of her depth she truly was. Ten million dollars was still real money to her, still a sum that could change lives.

But in Lucas Cassian's world? In the world of men who could spend hundreds of millions on a whim?

It probably was cheap.

The silence stretched between them like a physical presence, and Charity felt the familiar weight of Lucas's awkwardness settling over the room. He was not a man who enjoyed conversation, not a man who filled silence with pleasantries. Perhaps he simply didn't know how.

She was about to force herself to speak, to make some attempt at normal social interaction, when the white screen buzzed to life, the bidding notification appearing in crisp, digital letters.

"Take whatever you want," Lucas said casually, his hand still shamelessly resting on her hip as if it belonged there.

Charity cast him a sharp glare, trying to edge herself away from his grip. His fingers tightened immediately, pulling her more securely onto his lap, an unspoken declaration that she wasn't going anywhere.

She could only endure his game, her body rigid against his warmth, as she swiped through the auctioned objects on the massive screen.

"Stop."

Lucas's voice cut through her swiping, sharp and commanding. Charity's finger froze mid-motion, hovering above the screen where the Krupp diamond ring glowed in its digital showcase.

"Why?" she asked, genuinely confused.

The ring was beautiful, she could see that even through the screen, could understand why it had captivated so many bidders but she had been about to swipe past it.

"Place a bid on that," Lucas said, his tone so casual it felt almost dismissive. As if he were asking her to order a coffee rather than commit to an enormous financial transaction.

Charity hesitated, her eyes flicking from the current bid to Lucas's impassive face. Someone had already placed a million dollars on the ring, a sum that made her stomach clench just to think about.

But Lucas's expression brooked no argument, no hesitation. She swallowed and placed an amount.

Two million dollars. Double the current bid.