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Now, Julian, Leo, Astrid, and I stand along the edge of the ballroom alongside the Harknetts, the household staff heads, and the rest of the estate security team.

Alexios steps forward and projects a schedule onto one of the walls.

“Alright, let’s run through the itinerary so everyone is on the same page and ready for any emergency,” he begins, clicking to the first slide. “Today is Day One. The moment guests set foot on the property, intercept their bags for scanning. Be extremely thorough; the hospitality staff will keep everyone occupied on the terrace for drinks, giving us plenty of time.”

A security guard with a thick mustache raises his hand. “Any specific items, outside of standard contraband, we should flag?”

As Alexios answers his question and dives into protocols for the remaining schedule, like the polo match, private gallery tours, and the spa area, I steal a glance at Knox and fight the urge to kiss him.

I am dying to kiss him.

But since last night’s rejection, two things have changed with Knox.

One… he’s been excruciatingly professional, refusing to let me out of his sight while simultaneously refusing to look at me the way he did back at the cabin.

God, I miss those eyes on me.

Those hands on me.

This fucking hurts.

And two… he looks like he’s hiding something from me. I don’t know what, but I can tell it’s making him both anxious and sad.

Could he be anxious about us being this close together?

Or is this something about the stalker?

Or maybe it’s about the man they brought from Venezuela and the DNA test he told me about…

Nope…

Not the time to be thinking about this, I tell myself as I force the ache aside and refocus on the briefing, realizing it’s almost my turn to speak.

Oh, crap.

“All of the principal’s food and drink is our responsibility. No exceptions,” Logan explains, snapping me out of my thoughts. “No one hands anything directly to Mr. Harrington-Hale. If you need him to check something, give it to the Harknett beside him, and we’ll be the ones to pass it along. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Alexios gives my back a pat, signaling for me to walk up to the stage, and I do.

Ugh…

I hate stages.

It feels surreal being the one up here giving instructions instead of my grandfather.

And man, am I nervous…

It feels just like that awkward first day of school when you’re introducing yourself in front of a room full of strangers, while they stare at you as they pray for the class to end.

“Hi… So, for tomorrow’s events, we have a private viewing and an art market investment lunch. I want waiters carrying trays of canapés, pastries, and drinks available until three hours before dinner,” I explain. “After that, we begin the White-Glove Inspection, where collectors can request to examine the backs of canvases or any art piece they want. Any questions?” I ask, and they all shake their heads.

I look around at the familiar faces of the household staff, many of whom have run this event more than ten times already.

“I know this is the first time we’re doing this without my grandfather,” I say, my fist clenching at my side so I don’t cry. “…And I know how hard his loss was on all of us. But let’s do our best and make this an auction he would be proud of.”

The staff claps, and I wave, stepping down off the stage.