Page 75 of Depraved Boys

“Lot twelve, fifty-six Appletree Road. Going once, going twice for three. Hundred. Thousand.” He hesitated, gavel poised and ready to strike. “Sold to the young gentleman at the doors.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Shock squeezed all the air out of my lungs, and it whooshed out of my gaping mouth. Prakash had just won the auction. Prakash had just bought my house!

I turned, stomach trembling in anticipation of an arrogant sneer and a demand to leave the academy or I would never get to see my family home. Instead of smug triumph, his jaw clenched with the grim determination of a man ready for a fight.

“Over here, sir.” A young woman with a Kinmont Auctions ID card balancing on the lanyard around her neck ushered us to another room.

A middle-aged man wearing a red-and-white polka-dot tie with a pin-striped shirt sat behind a desk, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. “Congratulations on the purchase of lot number twelve. How do you wish to settle?”

I bolted forward, knocking aside a pair of plastic chairs, and rested my palms on his desk. “The sale is invalid,” I blurted. “Ashley Evergreen owns only half of fifty-six Appletree Road. I own the other half, and I didn’t authorize the sale.”

He drew back, brows furrowed. “And you are?”

“Willow Evergreen.”

Pursing his lips, the man twisted around in his office chair and pulled out a plastic file from the shelf behind his seat. He leafed through the manilla files, pulled one out, and placed it on the desk.

My heartbeat like a war drum, and I wished he would hurry up and void the illegal auction.

With the careful consideration of a curator opening an ancient, delicate document of historical value, he flipped through the papers with the file.

I turned to Prakash, who rolled his eyes and gestured at the two plastic seats in front of the man’s desk. With a sigh, I took the one on the right, and he lowered himself into the one on the left.

He held a document to the light and squinted. “Can you prove your identity, Miss Evergreen?”

I reached into the inside pocket of my blazer, pulled out my wallet, and placed my driver’s license in the middle of the desk. “Here.”

He gave it a cursory glance. “May I see the accompanying paper copy?”

Prakash leaned forward. “Miss Evergreen has proven her identity and said she is the legal co-owner of the house.”

“Then I fail to understand why you bid on the property, Mister?”

“Kashaayah.”

The man placed the piece of paper back in its folder. “All the legal documentation authorizing the sale is intact, including a letter from your guardian, Hortense Redbush, and one from Selby Solicitors giving authorization for the sale.”

“But Hortense isn’t my guardian, and I didn’t sign anything,” I said.

He pushed a contract across the desk and tapped at my signature above Ashley’s and another I assumed belonged to Aunt Hortense.

I shook my head. “That’s a forgery.”

He turned to Prakash. “We take shill bidding very seriously.”

“As seriously as the police will take auction houses selling property without legal authorization, I would expect,” Prakash drawled.

The man reared back. “We at Kinmont Auctions have taken the appropriate due diligence in the performance of our duty. Our fee of two percent is still payable.”

“Then I suggest you contact the other young woman, her so-called guardian, and the solicitor who failed to obtain the proper permissions.” Prakash leaned across the table, gathered the files, and held them to his chest. “Are these all the documents you have on the address?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “Now, please leave.”

A breath of relief whooshed out of my lungs, pushing away the dread roiling in my belly. Prakash stood and offered me his arm. I scrambled to my feet, looped mine through his, and walked proudly at his side through the door.

Bidding already started for another property, and we strode through the room. Triumph roared in my belly, and gratitude warmed my heart. He had saved me more than once this morning, and I didn’t know how to thank him.