Page 88 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

"Then why are you bidding?"

"To stop you."

My fist tightened on my knee.

"One point two." He raised his paddle.

I didn't hesitate. "Two million."

The entire room went dead quiet.

Elena looked at me. Shock, then pure, undisguised anger.

I met her stare and didn't lower the paddle.

She wanted to live off her paintings. She had. I wasn't handing out charity—I was making every person who ever dismissed her see it: her work deserved the highest price in the room.

And I was buying myself one more chance.

"Two million. Going once."

Yegor stared at me.

"Going twice."

His hand hovered on the edge of his paddle, but he didn't lift it again.

"Sold."

The gavel cracked down. Applause thundered.

I didn't look at the painting that was mine now. I only watched Elena.

She'd rejected my flowers, my gifts, my letters.

Now I'd bought two hours she couldn't end early.

Chapter 22

Elena

"A date? You're saying a date?"

I stared at the paperwork the curator had handed me, sure I'd misheard.

The applause still hadn't died down. Minutes ago, my painting had sold for two million dollars. I'd been thinking how that money would put brushes in more kids' hands, how collectors would finally remember my name.

Then the fine print at the bottom stabbed my eyes like a needle.

The highest bidder would receive the opportunity to have dinner with the artist.

And the highest bidder had been Kiryan.

"It was a special arrangement for the charity auction," the curator said under his breath, his smile stiff. "It drove attention. Encouraged bidding."

"Strapping a date to my work doesn't make people see the art. It makes them watch the price tag." My fingertips went cold. "I agreed to donate a painting. I didn't agree to be sold with it."

"You signed the release."