Daghter 241
Finished
The royal wedding rings were the final item of the evening—the true showstopper.
Before that, the auction rolled through a string of warm-up lots: porcelain, fabrics, rare flowers, even a lighter and an old horseshoe.
It felt less like a luxury auction and more like an elegant flea market.
What caught Yunice’s attention was Wyatt’s behavior.
He bid on several bolts of fabric—items no one else showed much interest in—and won them effortlessly.
Then a Dunhill lighter appeared on stage.
Yunice leaned forward slightly, her gaze lingering on it for a second longer than she realized.
Wyatt, however, wasn’t watching the stage.
His eyes had shifted—sharp, cold—fixed on the general seating above them.
Someone was staring at Yunice’s legs through the sheer layers of her gown. The gaze lingered too low, too long.
As if he sensed the warning cutting through the air, the man stiffened, sprang to his feet, and hurried out of the hall.
Someone else won the lighter.
Yunice leaned back, only then realizing that Wyatt’s arm had been resting along the back of her chair the entire time, his body angled protectively around her.
He lowered his head slightly. From his height, all he could see was the delicate curve of her lashes and the tip of her nose.
“You liked that lighter?” he asked quietly.
Before she could answer, he lifted his paddle and said flatly, with unmistakable authority, “Bring it back. Re-auction it.”
Re-auction?
At a one-time, no-returns charity event?
Yunice leaned closer and whispered urgently, “Wyatt—”
He cut her off without looking at her. “If you want something, say it. I’m not a mind reader. Don’t expect me to guess.”
He leaned back with a faint scowl and took out his cigarette case.
The auction organizer hurried over, bowing repeatedly, holding the lighter that had just been removed.
“Mr. Wyatt,” he said carefully, “there’s no need to bid again. Mr. Zimmer has said… please consider it a gift.”
That word—gift—felt far too generous.
The lighter was placed into Yunice’s hand.
It was surprisingly heavy. Crocodile leather casing, gold and platinum detailing that wouldn’t tarnish, fueled by windproof, waterproof alcohol.
Sleek. Functional. Excessive.
Wyatt slipped a cigarette between his lips and patted his pockets as if searching for a flame.
Then—
Click.
Yunice lifted the lighter and held the flame up to him.
Wyatt looked at her through the fire, his eyes dark, predatory, faintly amused.
He leaned forward just enough for the flame to catch the tip of the cigarette.
In the back row, Paul clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ground audibly.
Wyatt leaned back again, cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling lazily upward.
“Nice lighter,” he said, unhurried and satisfied.
Yunice turned her attention back to the auction stage.
Wyatt didn’t stop watching her.
Then came the final item.
The royal wedding rings.
A murmur swept through the hall. Everyone knew this would be a bloodbath—engaged couples, romantics, collectors, all ready to fight for this one-of-a-kind symbol.
A token of love.
The phrase startled Yunice.
She didn’t look at Wyatt for a long moment after that.
The starting price was announced.
Bidding erupted immediately.
Wyatt didn’t raise his paddle.
He could have taken control at any moment, ended it with a single number—but he simply watched.
Instead, he removed his jacket and tossed it onto Yunice’s lap.
“It’s hot,” he said.
So accustomed to issuing commands.
Yunice folded the jacket neatly and rested it over her knees.
The scent of him lingered—clean, sharp, unmistakable.
The bidding climbed higher.
Still, Wyatt didn’t move.
Paul, seated farther back, felt something twist violently in his chest.
Once, he had believed that with enough power, enough wealth, he could reclaim anything he had lost.
Now, watching Yunice sit beside another man—calm, composed, undeniably protected—he realized how wrong he had been.
He didn’t know whether it was jealousy or lingering love.
He only knew he hated it.
And if he couldn’t escape this feeling—
Then he would make sure no one walked away unscathed.