CHAPTER FOUR
ELSA
I made sure the whispers had started weeks ago that Etxebarriia wasn't just wealthy.
Everyone at the auction for the Dallas Group acquisition would know that I was liquid in ways even oligarchs envied.
Then the day came.
Silence fell when I walked into the room which smelt like cologne and money.
That was exactly what I expected as the only woman in a room full of men.
This had never been a feminine niche, at least not for this particular assembly.
No words left my mouth as I walked to my allocated seat, heads turning after me.
I heard the murmurs as I sat down quietly, my sequin dress settling nicely into the seat underneath my butt.
"Lovely woman," a voice interrupted me, causing me to turn.
I looked into those familiar eyes after so long and swallowed a lump.
My heart stilled, for a minute or two.
And then, it was palpitating as if I was about to have a dire cardiac arrest.
I was tempted to reach out to clutch my chest and stopped myself in time.
I shouldn't do that.
I couldn't afford to do it.
He must not know.
The fear was back, the one that had been instilled in me against my will.
Tears formed in my eyes.
I couldn't help it.
But I could hold it back.
I blinked once and forced it back to where it belonged, deep inside my heart.
I forced a smile.
"You too are quite lovely, for a man," I added with a soft smirk.
His left brow lifted.
"Dickinson Singh," He introduced himself, offering me his right hand.
I stared for a moment.
I couldn't bring myself to take his hand, the one which had snuffed life from me.
No, I tried and couldn't.
I sized him up with languid eyes.
"Unfortunately, I don't shake hands that don't work for me Mr Singh."
Someone gasped behind us.
I knew exactly why they made that sound.
Dickinson Singh was not the kind of man any sort of woman should trifle with.
And the fact that I was doing so meant I was either on par, or just seeking death.
I was none—thankfully, I was the only soul present in the room who knew that.
"That's too far," he warned with a charming smile that didn't deceive me.
I crossed my legs as I sat straight.
"Maybe, maybe not," I shrugged, folding my hands as the bidding started.
He snickered, looking away.
His attention was back at the reason he was there–the auction.
This wasn't just a sale.
It was an excellent performance and my target loved a good audience.
He joined the men in tailored suits around me to murmur numbers to the auctioneer.
I scoffed watching them.
It was obvious they all thought this, the bidding, was a game of patience.
They were wrong.
It was a test of nerves.
Suddenly, I could feel eyes on me, burning, unsettling, belonging to Dickinson.
I slowly turned to find him watching me without trying to hide it.
Panic clogged my oesophagus.
My throat grew dry at the intensity with which he paid heed to me.
I found myself swallowing in the spittle which had gathered in my mouth.
Why was he looking hard?
What did he hope to see?
Had he noticed?
"What?" I asked.
He blinked
"I noticed that you are very quiet Mrs—" he began to say while leaning back lazily.
"Miss Etxebarriia," I corrected him with a smile that I hoped didn't give me away.
He nodded.
"And why aren't you bidding?" He asked.
"I will," I said. "When it matters."
He gave me an fierce offended look.
Cold chills ran down my spine as I swallowed the lump that appeared in my throat.
I quickly salvaged the situation, flashing him a small but controlled smile that would have hit any man senseless.
Not him though.
He wasn't that easy.
I knew.
"Most people get nervous at this stage and I am not excluded, Mr Singh."
My voice was honeyed.
He made a 'hmm' sound that made me feel as if he hadn't been placated yet.
"Miss Sparkles doesn't strike me as the nervous type," he drawled.
I shook my head.
"Besides, the number I have in mind is set in stone. Speaking won't change it."
A few of the men around glanced at me and I could see the emotions in their eyes.
There was curiosity and annoyance.
But when I turned back to Dickinson, he had none of those—only something else.
His lips began to twitch.
"Over confidence is dangerous."
"I agree," I replied with a grin, "and so is underestimating people."
The auctioneer cleared his throat and I took the chance to turn away.
My heart was beating fast now, pumping blood at an unusual rate.
"This is the final round."
The yelling of numbers began again and everyone rushed, jumping fast.
Men after men dropped out of the game they had started, frustrated.
And soon, it was just Dickinson and I, calling numbers after numbers.
"5 Billion."
I raised my hand.
"5 Billion and one dollar."
"Let this go," he told me through gritted teeth the moment he turned.
I grinned at him because I knew his voice was a warning I would ignore.
"5.5 Billion," he continued.
"5.5 Billion and a dollar."
His eyes snapped to meet mine.
I stared at him with a smug look on my face as they dug deep into my face.
There was annoyance there and something else I was familiar with—interest.
"5.9 Billion," he renamed a price.
"5.9 Billion and a dollar," I add.
His eyes widened.
Whispers began to grow in the hall.
"6 Billion," he ground out, "and not another word from you Miss Sparkles."
I couldn't help but laugh.
The sound came from deep in my stomach cause I was enjoying riling him.
"6 Billion," he repeated.
The tightening of his jaw told me the price was high, higher than he had planned.
Though I could see that no one in the room dare beat that price he had just dropped.
They didn't want to cross him.
Also, the tier was lofty—maybe for others, but certes not for me.
It was time for my performance.
"Going, 1, 2, 3, gon—"
I raised my hand when the auctioneer was still speaking, interrupting him.
"8 Billion."
The room went radio silent.
Dickinson turned.
I sat unperturbed as his eyes raked over my face in a slow and deliberate manner.
It was as if he was simply trying to place me somewhere in his memory.
I was there but he didn't need to know that, at least not at this point in time.
"You're serious," he said.
"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."
He chuckled lightly but I could tell the sound was in no way genuine.
"You know what you are bidding against?" he asked the moment he went quiet.
"I do."
"You are calm for someone who is about to lose, you know?" he mocked.
I tilted my head.
"Am I?"
My vision moved from him to find that the auctioneer was looking between us.
"Mr. Singh?"
Dickinson hesitated.
It was just a second.
But that was all it took.
"10 Billion," I calmly said my final number.
Someone sucked in a breath beside me.
It was Dickinson.
I turned in time to see his smile fade.
The gavel came down.
"Sold."
I didn't move right away even as the sound of the wood echoed in the quiet room.
Neither did Dickinson who stared straight at me as if I had betrayed him.
"Congratulations," he started smoothly, "you've just made an enemy of me?"
I quirked a brow slowly at him.
The stress lines on his face spelt anger as well as the smirk screamed amusement.
"I will be the judge of that," I said to him with a smug look on my face.
His eyes dug deep into mine.
"I am a worthy enemy."
I scoffed.
It took everything I had to not cackle.
I stood, slowly, majestically.
"I doubt that."
He gasped.
Then, he was laughing in amusement as he stood to his full height before me.
He towered over me, as always.
I was unable to move before he stepped into my space like he owned it.
His cologne over mastered me instantly.
There was that familiar scent of sunflower that flooded the entirety of my senses.
The same scent from the night he had held me by the neck before the shot.
My chest tightened.
"You just took something I wanted."
I met his gaze.
A slow, lethal smile curved my lips.
"Then you should have wanted it more."
His lips thinned.
"Maybe," he shrugged.
We had a stare down in the silence.
"You are an interesting lady, Miss Sparkles," he pointed out as the room slowly became empty in the background.
I snickered rudely.
"Miss Elsa Etxebarriia," I corrected him.
"Elsa," he repeated my name as if he was tasting it. "Would you like to have dinner with me?"
I looked away from the intensity of his eyes and noticed then that we were suddenly alone in that wide space.
Fear gripped me.
The anxiety he stirred in me was the sharp kind which thrived in muscle memory.
I swallowed before meeting his eyes.
"I would have loved to, but I do not like to mix business with pleasure."
His eyes dipped to my mouth.
"That's a shame."
The look in his eyes at this moment was obviously lust, masked with interest.
My skin instantly began to crawl as I bent down to pick up my folder.
"Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Singh," I announced as I moved towards the exit.
I was glad he didn't follow me.
"Dickinson," he corrected me. "Please."
"Maybe another time," I paused at the door long enough to say to him.
I didn't look back from the instant I turned all the way to my automobile.
The first thing I did was to let out a breath of relief the moment I stepped into the car and closed the doors.
My heart had been threatening to thunder out of my chest in his proximity.
The drive home was quiet with my hands shaking as I gripped the steering wheel.
A delightful laugh bubbled out of my mouth the moment I pulled up at the parking lot.
It was a mix—half triumph, half hysteria.
My hands didn't stop shaking until I tasted blood where I had bitten my lower lip.
I recalled the look on his face, the interest, the hunger and the way his eyes had followed me like I was already his.
Still I realized I might have won as I rode the elevator to my penthouse.
The apartment was dark when I went in and slumped into the nearest sofa.
And I found myself staring at the wall while counting my breath till my pulse slowed.
"You took him apart."
I jerked upright on the sofa, startled.
"He didn't even see it coming."
I turned around to find Labano standing at the doorway with his sleeves rolled up.
I could see that his hair was slightly damp as if he had just taken a shower.
"Labano," I grumbled as I held my chest, "try not to scare me always will you."
He chuckled.
"You'll kill me one day."
"No I won't," he said smugly.
He took a step closer.
"Did you get what you needed?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"I got his attention and—"
"You don't have to answer to me Elsa," he interrupted me.
I sat upright and stared at him.
"I don't have to Labano," I started, "But I owe it to you. You know that."
He shook his head.
"You don't owe me—"
"I owe you my life," I cut in.
I swallowed before I spoke.
"You saved me.