Molly walked inside with her friend and found her seat. As luck would have it, Miles was directly in front of her, one row up. The woman leaned into his shoulder like she belonged there.
Molly forced herself to look past them. She was here for one thing only: a brooch she'd previewed twice already, hoping to win it for her mother.
It was a vintage piece—two feathers overlapping, one large and one small, crafted from gold, diamonds, and turquoise. Simple and elegant, yet utterly breathtaking.
The bidding climbed steadily. The wealthy socialites in attendance seemed to sense how much Molly wanted it. Out of respect for the young CEO of Breeze Fashion, they backed off one by one.
At six point two million dollars, the auctioneer raised his gavel—
And the woman draped over Miles lifted her paddle.
Molly's brow furrowed. Her friend, indignant on her behalf, immediately countered.
Back and forth they went, the price soaring to nine million.
Every time her friend bid, that woman followed.
Molly's expression darkened. She pulled out her phone and sent Miles a message: I want this brooch.