🕺Kane's POV🕺
I arrived at the party a little too early, eager to get it over with. Kane Cross doesn't attend charity galas out of the goodness of his heart. No, he doesn't attend them at all. He sends generous donations through his subordinates and stays far away from the small talk and artificial smiles. And yet—here I am.
"Pick a random girl, make a generous donation, do your part, and leave…"
After making sure I'd greeted every acquaintance and business partner worth acknowledging, I made my way to the bar, where one of my hunting partners, Ryan Parker, was already deep into his usual sport—flirting shamelessly with a blonde who looked like she might melt into a puddle at his feet. I didn't need a second glance to understand the game. The blonde, though easy on the eyes, didn't strike me as someone who could recite the multiplication table without struggling. She was an easy target for Ryan's effortless charm.
He'd always been that way. Truth be told, we weren't all that different. We both sought the same thing: passion, heat, but only for one night. At best, these flings became purely physical arrangements—never anything more. I'd never been tempted to want more. To need more than a woman's body or her fire. Why would I? Women are deceitful, materialistic creatures, often without boundaries when it comes to their demands.
Not her.
The thought struck like a gong, cutting through the stale atmosphere of the party. No, she, with all her softness and mystery, didn't seem to carry any of those traits. She wasn't like the others. She was something else entirely—an angel who had wandered into this world by mistake.
She wasn't like the others. No, she was like an angel fallen into a world of temptation and sin—meant to bring light into mine.
Apparently, only for one night.
I ordered a whisky from the bartender and pretended not to know the man making the blonde across from him sweat with nothing more than a few charming, albeit utterly fake, pick-up lines. I had no intention of interrupting his game. Right now, I was once again irritated by the maddening inability to track down a certain woman, so I couldn't care less about the others casting burning glances my way. Undressing me with their eyes. Normally, I might find that exciting—provocative, even. But not since that night.
No. If she were to look at me again like that—with the same fire, the same hunger I saw in her eyes back then—I wouldn't hesitate. I'd take her in my arms without even blinking.
"Alright, so I'll call you tomorrow," I heard Ryan whisper to his newest conquest, that smug grin still plastered on his face.
She leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, likely trying to feign some illusion of innocence—something she clearly couldn't even spell—before turning back to her group of equally enthusiastic friends. A single glance at them confirmed what I already knew: easy prey. Each one dressed as minimally as possible, scanning the room with a kind of desperation that reeked of need. I wouldn't be surprised if they were the ones making the first move tonight.
"Another one?" I asked, bored, not even bothering to lift my gaze from the bar.
"There's no such thing as too many," he replied with that same arrogant smirk. Then his tone shifted slightly. "But what are you doing here?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "You're not exactly the type to show up at charity events. Usually, you just send checks," he added, his eyes searching mine as if trying to uncover the real reason behind my unexpected appearance.
I shot him a bored glance, making no effort to hide the irritation flickering across my face. Did I really owe anyone an explanation for what I chose to do?
"Fine, I'll admit it's not usually my thing," I muttered.
"But come on, Cross—this isn't your average charity party," he said, sweeping a hand dramatically across the room. "The main attraction tonight? Top-tier women being auctioned off at top-tier prices. I plan to bid on at least one of the… exhibits."
I sighed in frustration, holding back the urge to roll my eyes. Like I've said before, I don't see the point in paying for a woman's company when men like us can have any woman we want with nothing more than a look. One look is all it takes to make any relationship-hungry hopeful believe she'll be the one to tame our free-spirited ways. That she will be the one to bring us to our knees, begging for what only they crave.
Hopeless, ladies. Truly hopeless.
"Typical you. You're here for the same thing that blonde from earlier could've offered you," he teased.
"No, Kane, it's not the same," he replied, shaking his head slightly. "You see, the girls being auctioned off tonight… they're like prey. You've got to fight to win them."
I let out a dry laugh. That was the most ridiculous theory I'd heard in a while—but fine, I could admit there was some sort of competition involved. The ones who stood out the most would be bought for the highest price. That's why they only chose the most stunning women to be auctioned off. But more often than not, their dreams of a charming, age-appropriate bachelor showing interest get crushed. Because the ones eager to participate? Older men with too much money and too little charm. The rest of us, the ones like me, know damn well we don't need to pay to get a beautiful woman's attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome," the host began, her wide smile gleaming as the spotlight hit her and the auction officially began. "Thank you, on behalf of Stall Corporation, for joining us tonight. The money raised this evening will go a long way toward supporting our cause, and we hope it will make the difference for some children …"
Alright. This will be simple. Pick someone decent, donate, and be done with it. Nothing I haven't done before.
The first girl—a tall blonde with the kind of goddess body that turns heads wherever she goes—manages to draw in quite a few bidders. I'm a little surprised Ryan doesn't jump in. Blondes are usually his thing. As expected, she's "won" by a man who looks like he could easily be her father. No surprise there.
Ryan throws his hat into the ring for the second girl, and that actually catches me off guard. Not a bubbly blonde this time, but a short-haired brunette, runway-thin and model-tall. I guess everyone's taste evolves… at least temporarily.
The rest of the women surprise me with their hobbies and passions. I totally believe the redhead—subtly upgraded by a scalpel—when she says she wants to find a cure for cancer. I'm sure that's what keeps her up at night… in every bed she passes through. Not that I'd mind if mine was one of them. I bet we'd have a very deep and meaningful conversation.
The next woman makes direct eye contact with me. I resist the urge to smirk when she throws in a wink. I know I've caught the attention of every woman in this room—single or not—but tonight I'm not in the mood for casual fun.
I just want to get through this dinner and bury myself in work again. Apparently, ever since that one night with a certain runaway in a red dress… I haven't had the same appetite for beautiful, eager women.
I don't think I'll have that appetite again… not until I find her and punish her for simply disappearing. That's if I ever do find her.
The hostess announces the final girl, and I realize I've been too distracted to place a single bid. Fine. I'll bid on this one. Doesn't matter what she looks like or what her interests are—I don't plan on doing anything with her anyway…
"Jessa Bait!"
I glance disinterestedly toward the spot where this Jessa is supposed to make her entrance. Nothing. The lit-up stage is empty, drawing curious whispers from the crowd.
"Jessa Bait!" the hostess repeats, her tone now tinged with unease.
And then suddenly, she appears.
A young woman steps out, wearing a long black dress that hugs her body in all the right places—highlighting a figure that instantly steals the room's attention. I chuckle at the look on her face—confused, worried. Wait… I know that face. Those full lips, porcelain skin, long glossy chocolate curls, and most of all, those captivating green eyes.
It's her. I've found her.
"Jessa is a veterinarian who enjoys spending her free time mountain climbing and scuba diving!" the hostess announces, her voice full of enthusiasm.
Alright, she might not exactly look like the extreme sports type, but I can definitely picture her in a white coat, holding a small, helpless animal in those gentle hands of hers—hands that once left soft, innocent traces all over my skin.
"Ten thousand dollars!" a man's arrogant, booming voice cuts through the room.
Suddenly, I'm overwhelmed with a need to hit something.
The way every man in this room is devouring her with their eyes, mentally undressing her, memorizing every inch of her body—it's infuriating. Something's seriously wrong with me…
"Twenty thousand!" another voice calls out, triumphant, stirring even more whispers among the crowd.
As I suspected, this auction is no joke. But there's no damn way I'm letting one of these horny bastards walk away with her. Not after how hard I've tried to find her. No one should even have the privilege of looking at her in that dress. No one but me.
"You're mine now," I smirk involuntarily, locking my gaze on the target standing under the spotlight, who looks like she's about to faint from the chaos unfolding around her.
Now that I've found her, I have no intention of letting her slip away again. Not until I've had my fill—until I've burned every last trace of her out of my system. She's going to pay—deeply—for what she did to me. For the way she haunted me. For the day she snuck out of my apartment like a thief in the night. And all of it, because now she belongs to me.
"One million dollars," I say, my voice calm, my smile triumphant, ignoring the stunned gasps echoing through the room.
No one will dare outbid me—not just because of the insane offer, but because I'm Kane Cross. I'm the man you don't want as an enemy.
Ryan's face is a picture of utter confusion, but I don't care. I don't even look at him. My eyes are locked on the stage, on her. I move forward, ready to claim what's mine.