The humiliation of the grand entrance was only the appetizer. The main course was served an hour later in the museum's lavishly decorated dining hall, during the highly anticipated charity auction.
Damien sat at the VIP table near the front, his mood foul. Elena was still furiously texting her father about the Rotterdam cargo leak, shooting poisonous glares at Chloe, who was seated elegantly next to Arthur Sterling at the neighboring table.
Damien couldn't take his eyes off Chloe. Every time she laughed at a joke Arthur made, or elegantly sipped her wine, a knot of pure jealousy tightened in Damien's chest. She should be looking at me like that, he thought, his ego blinding him to the reality of the situation. He needed to reassert his dominance. He needed to show her that he was still the most powerful man in the room.
The auctioneer, a charismatic man with a booming voice, took the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, our final and most prestigious item of the night. A breathtaking, 18th-century antique diamond tiara, once belonging to the French aristocracy. The opening bid is five hundred thousand dollars."
The crowd murmured in appreciation as the glittering piece was displayed on a velvet cushion.
Elena tugged at Damien's sleeve. "Damien, I want it. Buy it for me. Show that arrogant Sterling girl who really runs this city."
Damien saw his opportunity. He raised his paddle immediately. "Six hundred thousand."
"Six hundred thousand to Mr. Vane!" the auctioneer announced.
Before the applause could even begin, a cool, melodious voice echoed from the next table. "Eight hundred thousand."
The room gasped. It was Chloe. She hadn't even raised a paddle; she merely lifted two fingers, her eyes locked onto Damien's with a challenging, mocking glint.
Damien's jaw tightened. "One million."
"One point five million," Chloe countered instantly, not missing a beat. She took a slow sip of her water, looking entirely bored.
Elena's face turned bright red. "Damien, don't let a barista embarrass you! Bid higher!"
Damien's mind raced. Because he had poured almost all of his liquid capital into the Harbor Point land deal just yesterday, his personal cash flow was dangerously thin. But the entire room of New York's elite was watching. If he backed down to Arthur Sterling's new protégé, the rumors of his weakness would spread by morning.
"Two million dollars," Damien ground out, glaring at Chloe.
"Two and a half million," Chloe replied smoothly.
Arthur Sterling sat back in his chair, watching Chloe with a mixture of awe and amusement. He knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn't trying to buy the tiara. She was draining the enemy's ammunition.
"Three million!" Damien shouted, standing up slightly from his chair. The vein in his forehead was throbbing. He was breathing heavily, his competitive nature overriding his common sense. Three million was absurd for the piece, but he couldn't lose to her.
The auctioneer looked stunned. "Three million dollars! Do I hear three point five from Miss Lane?"
Every eye in the room shifted to Chloe. The silence was deafening.
Chloe looked at the diamond tiara, then looked back at Damien. Slowly, she lowered her hand. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, and offered Damien a smile that sent a shiver down his spine.
"You can have it, Damien," Chloe said, her voice clear and carrying perfectly in the quiet room. "I just remembered... I don't really like wearing second-hand jewelry. Especially when it's so desperately overpriced."
The crowd erupted in a mix of shocked laughter and frantic whispering.
Damien froze. The realization hit him like a freight train. She had played him. She had baited his ego and forced him to spend three million dollars of cash he didn't really have on a useless piece of jewelry.
"Sold! For three million dollars to Mr. Damien Vane!" the auctioneer yelled, banging his gavel.
Elena cheered, grabbing Damien's arm, completely oblivious to the financial trap they had just stepped into. But Damien wasn't looking at the tiara, or at Elena. He was staring at Chloe.
As the Gala began to wind down, Chloe stood up, her midnight-blue gown flowing around her. She walked past Damien's table, leaning in just close enough for only him to hear.
"Enjoy the tiara, Damien," she whispered, the scent of her expensive perfume wrapping around him. "You're going to need something pretty to look at when the markets open on Monday morning."
Before he could respond, she was gone, leaving Damien standing in the center of the room, feeling like a man who had just swallowed a razor blade.