Page 148 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

Luke Gildstein lifted his paddle, possibly because he sensed drama, and rich men loved drama.

“Six thousand.”

Rafe lifted his paddle.

“Seven.”

Dimitris raised his.

“Eight.”

Rafe raised his again.

“Nine.”

Dimitris’s cane tapped once against the floor.

I met his gaze and smiled pleasantly, the way women did when they were about to make life less convenient.

“Ten thousand to paddle thirty-two.”

Rafe lifted his paddle.

“Eleven thousand to paddle twelve.”

Dimitris raised his.

“Twelve thousand.”

Rafe’s paddle rose before the number finished leaving my mouth.

“Thirteen thousand.”

Dimitris paused.

The old auctioneer would have waited. Coaxed. Let the silence soften for him.

I didn’t.

“Thirteen thousand once,” I said.

Dimitris’s eyes flashed.

“Thirteen thousand twice…” I waited a breath. “Sold to paddle twelve.” I banged the gavel, the sound cracking through the room.

Time stretched on as nobody moved.

Then Rafe stood.

I had never seen victory look so restrained and yet so utterly incapable of being hidden. His face remained composed, but something bright and fierce had entered his eyes. He looked at the mirror, then at me.

My heart kicked once, hard.

I set the gavel down very carefully before my hand could shake, then walked offstage.

The actual auctioneer emerged from the side room with his tie slightly crooked and his dignity in pieces. He came straight to me, face pale.

I handed him the lot card and spoke under my breath. “Congratulations. You took a break and retained your credibility.”