Page 74 of Depraved Boys

After we both scrambled into the two-seater car, he sped out of the academy grounds and onto the main road. “Which auction house?”

“I’m not sure.”

“But it’s in town?”

“I don’t know!”

He raised his brows and gave me a disapproving glower.

“Ashley was being stubborn, and I wasn’t thinking straight enough to ask the right questions.”

“Go back and ask her. Or call her phone.”

I shook my head and shudder. He clearly didn’t know what Ashley was like. “She’s already spent a huge chunk of money on designer crap and needs funds to cover her credit card bill. She won’t tell and let me ruin her plans.”

A few turns later, he joined the treacherous highway. “Call every auction house in Carlisle, and hope to fuck it’s not being held in London.”

As Prakash negotiated the bendy road, I looked up the four companies in Carlisle that sold properties via auction. Then I called the first one, whose receptionist confirmed that fifty-six Appletree Road would be sold in an hour and a half, which was less than the time it took to drive to the city.

“It’s Kinmont Auctions, Carlisle. Can you get there in less than ninety minutes?”

“Only if we take the long route.”

“What?” I squawked.

“It’s an extra ten miles, but we’ll be going around the mountains, not through them, which means fewer turns and less slowing down.”

I rubbed my aching head and made some basic calculations. Assuming he would exceed the speed limit once we cleared the mountains, we would probably get there a minute or so before the auction started… if there were no roadworks or traffic jams.

He slowed to negotiate a sharp bend then raced up a steep gradient with impossible twists and turns. My heart jumped in my throat and pounded so hard, I could barely breathe.

Every instinct in my body screamed at me to beg him to slow down, that keeping the house wasn’t worth my life, but someone had already destroyed Mom’s artwork. I couldn’t let Ashley sell the house.

A lump formed in my throat, and I wiped away my tears. I wasn’t ready to let go of Mom and Dad.

Prakash drove with the speed and precision of a race car driver, or at least one who had never had an accident. I tried not to think about Sebastian’s left wrist and leg and focussed on arriving composed enough to explain that the house needed to be taken off the market.

Eighty-seven hair-raising minutes later, he screeched to a halt in front of the Kinmont auction house. I opened the door, bolted through the sidewalk and into the building. A receptionist gave me a puzzled welcome.

“Are we in time for the fifty-six Appletree Road auction?”

“It started a few minutes ago.”

I bolted through the hallway and into an auction room with Prakash at my heels. Up on the projector screen was an image of Mom and Dad’s house. My stomach churned, and my focus zoomed in on the suited man standing in front of a podium, addressing nearly a hundred people sitting in rows, holding brochures.

The auctioneer raised his gavel. “Lot number twelve, fifty-six Appletree Road, for two-hundred and fifty-nine thousand.”

My mouth opened, but panic squeezed my chest, and no sound came out.

“Going once, going twice…” The auctioneer cast his gaze around the room.

“Three hundred!” said Prakash.

I sucked in a shocked breath and glanced at the third king. Gasps filled the air, and people turned to look. Perhaps everyone else had bid in smaller increments.

“I have a bid of three-hundred thousand on lot twelve,” said the auctioneer. “Anybody else?”

The room remained silent, but my pulse thundered in my ears.