Reagan’s POV
The auction had already begun.
Paintings covered the walls, jewelry glittered beneath spotlights, and champagne flowed freely between guests.
None of it mattered.
The real attraction had always been the people.
Influential men and women drifted through the room, smiling, shaking hands, and holding quiet conversations that would probably change someone’s future before the night was over.
The auction was just an excuse to gather them all in one place.
"...You’re late."
I turned toward the voice.
She was already waiting near the entrance, dressed in a black evening gown tailored to perfection. A diamond bracelet rested loosely around one wrist as she folded her arms with an exaggerated sigh.
"I’ve been waiting almost ten minutes."
"Traffic."
She laughed.
"You say that every time."
"It keeps being true."
"Hm."
She stepped closer and straightened my tie with practiced ease.
"You know..."
"What?"
"I’ve started wondering if you deliberately arrive late just to make an entrance."
"I don’t."
"I know."
She smiled.
"You’re not dramatic enough for that."
Her hand slipped naturally around my arm.
"Come on."
The auction had already begun.
The first several lots came and went without either of us paying much attention.
Paintings.
Ancient watches.
Rare sculptures.
She leaned closer every now and then, offering little comments under her breath.
"...That painting is hideous."
"It sold for three million."
She placed a hand over her chest, looking genuinely offended.
"Taste really is subjective."
A quiet laugh almost escaped me before I caught it.
She noticed anyway.
"There it was."
"What?"
"The almost-smile."
"There wasn’t one."
"There absolutely was."
She bumped my shoulder lightly as we turned our attention back to the stage.
The next display slowly rotated beneath the spotlight.
A sapphire necklace.
Deep blue stones surrounded by diamonds that caught the light from every angle.
Her eyes lingered on it a little longer than everything else.
"...Beautiful."
The auctioneer announced the opening bid.
Someone across the room raised a paddle.
Another immediately followed.
She watched the numbers climb before quietly shaking her head.
"It’s gorgeous..."
She looked away.
"...but definitely not worth getting into a bidding war over."
I picked up my paddle.
Another bid.
I raised mine.
She looked at me.
"...Reagan."
The numbers continued climbing.
Someone else refused to back down.
I raised my paddle again.
She leaned a little closer.
"You don’t have to."
I kept my attention on the stage.
"...Sold."
Scattered applause echoed around the hall.
She stared at me for several seconds before letting out a soft laugh.
"...You actually bought it."
"You liked it."
"I only admired it."
"You looked at it a little too long."
She smiled, shaking her head.
"Those aren’t the same thing."
"Close enough."
She slipped her arm through mine as an attendant disappeared to retrieve the necklace.
"I suppose you wouldn’t see the difference."
A few moments later, the attendant returned carrying a velvet box.
She opened it.
The sapphires shimmered beneath the lights.
For a brief moment, she said nothing.
Then she smiled.
Not the teasing smile she’d worn all evening.
A quieter one.
"You really do have terrible spending habits."
"A trait worth curbing?"
She laughed under her breath.
"I wasn’t complaining."
"Thank you."
"You’re welcome."
She studied me for a second before smiling to herself.
"What?"
"Most men smile when they’re buying jewelry for the woman they’re with."
I looked at her.
"I bought it, didn’t I?"
She stared at me for a second before laughing again.
"There you go."
"What?"
"You somehow turned a romantic moment into a business transaction."
She closed the box carefully and handed it back to the attendant.
"I’ll wear it after dinner."
By the time we reached the restaurant, city lights shimmered across the river outside.
The place was exactly what you’d expect from somewhere reservations took months to secure.
Soft music.
Warm lighting.
Perfect service.
She thanked the waiter as he poured our drinks before looking back at me.
"You know..."
"Hm?"
"I’ve always wondered something."
I looked up from the menu.
"What?"
She rested her chin on one hand.
"Do you ever get tired of looking so serious?"
I didn’t answer.
"I thought so."
She smiled to herself before reaching for her wine.
"You really are hopeless."
She studied me for a long moment before setting her glass down.
"...You’re distracted."
I looked up.
"I’m not."
"You are."
"I’m listening."
"Barely."
She sighed and leaned back in her chair.
"I’ve spent the last ten minutes talking to you, and half the time you’re somewhere else."
I didn’t answer.
That seemed to confirm it.
Her shoulders sank slightly.
"...Who’s on your mind?"
For the first time that evening, Rose crossed my mind.
Standing in the kitchen.
"...It wasn’t."
The memory disappeared as quickly as it came.
I met her gaze again.
"...No one."
She didn’t look convinced.
"Hm."
A small pout tugged at her lips as she reached for her wine.
"So I lost to work again."
"It’s not work."
"Then it’s something."
She smiled, though this one didn’t quite reach her eyes.
"You don’t have to tell me."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Without thinking, I reached across the table and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. My hand lingered against her cheek for a second.
"There."
She looked at me, surprised.
"...What was that for?"
"You were pouting."
A laugh escaped her.
"Reagan."
"What?"
She leaned into my hand, her fingers resting lightly over mine.
"You know..."
"I don’t mind sharing you with work."
Her smile was small.
"But I don’t like competing with whatever’s going on inside that head of yours."
I looked at her.
"I’m here."
"You are."
She laughed softly.
"But only half of you."
She rested her cheek more comfortably against my palm.
"I’ll take what I can get."
"I wasn’t aware I was being rationed."
"There."
She smiled.
"That.", she said with a pointed finger.
"Mmn?"
"You say things like that."
"I said what?"
She shook her head.
"You somehow make the sweetest things sound completely accidental."
She laughed warmly.
"My little robot."
My fingers twitched against her cheek.
She noticed.
Her smile only grew.
"I like you this way."
She gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
"Awkward."
Another.
"Stoic."
"And painfully serious."
Her thumb traced absent-minded circles across the back of my hand.
"But..."
She looked into my eyes.
"...I don’t think I’d like you nearly as much if you were different."
The waiter arrived with our meals before I had to answer.
Thankfully.
Dinner lasted another hour, most of it filled with lighter conversation.
She did most of the talking.
I listened.
By the end of the meal she set her napkin beside her plate and smiled.
"I had a nice evening."
"So did I."
She gave me a doubtful look.
"Yeah... sure."
I looked at her.
"You singlehandedly decided I was miserable."
"You looked miserable."
"I wasn’t."
"You smiled once."
"Wasn’t aware you had time to count."
She laughed.
"My mistake."
We stepped outside into the cool evening air.
A black sedan was already waiting.
She stopped beside it and lifted the velvet box slightly.
"Thank you..."
She smiled down at it.
"...for this."
"It suits you."
"You haven’t even seen me wear it."
"I don’t need to, i know it will."
She looked at me for a moment before shaking her head with a quiet scoff.
"You really are impossible."
She stepped closer, straightened my collar one last time, then pressed a brief kiss against my lips.
"Goodnight."
She slipped into her waiting car.
Moments later, it disappeared into the evening traffic.
My driver opened the rear door.
"Boss."
I got in without a word.
The door closed behind me.
Five seconds of silence passed.
"...She was beautiful."
I looked up.
He took that as permission to continue.
"I mean... absolutely gorgeous."
Silence.
"You’ve got incredible taste."
Another glance from me through the rear-view mirror was enough.
He cleared his throat.
"...I’ll stop talking."
I leaned back against the seat.
The lipstick she’d left behind was still there.
I pulled a folded napkin from the side compartment, wiped it away in one slow motion, then tossed the stained napkin onto the empty seat beside me.
"...Drive."
"Yes, Boss."
The car eased into traffic.
Streetlights slid past the window one after another.
Somehow...
My thoughts wandered back to Rose.
I clicked my tongue and looked out the window.
Exhausting.
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