The private auction space exuded an air of exclusivity and opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the gathered elite.
The room wasn't large, but it felt spacious, carefully designed to accommodate a select group of high-profile bidders. Plush burgundy carpets muffled their footsteps as they moved further inside.
Scattered throughout the room were sleek, high-standing tables, each accompanied by a few elegant bar stools. The tables' surfaces gleamed under the soft lighting, their polished wood inlaid with intricate golden designs.
Along one wall, a bar stretched, stocked with top-shelf liquors and manned by discreet, white-gloved bartenders. The opposite wall featured a small stage, where the auctioneer would stand.
Artwork adorned the walls - masterpieces worth millions.
Elise lingered by the doorway, her flawless physique barely concealed beneath a thin white top.
Her eyes, sharp as cut diamonds, scanned the room with a mixture of disdain and boredom searching for any sign of Joyce.
The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the faint undertones of cannabis.
To her left, a group of naked models knelt on the plush carpet, their heads bobbing rhythmically as they serviced the guests. The men, dressed in tailored suits, stood with an air of nonchalance, sipping champagne as if the act was as mundane as a handshake.
Across the room, muscular male models, their bodies glistening with sweat, thrust into female guests bent over the high-standing tables. The women, fully naked hiked up around their waists, moaned loudly, their faces buried in lines of snow.
Elise's gaze flicked to a more reserved group standing by one of the tables. They held blunts between their manicured fingers, casually taking drags as they conversed. Their expressions were calm, almost bored, as if the debauchery around them was nothing more than background noise.
Elise cut through the chaos toward a standing table in the front row.
There, she found Joyce locked in a passionate embrace with a muscular male model.
Their lips were fused together, hands roaming shamelessly over each other's bodies.
Without hesitation, Elise tapped the model's shoulder. Her voice was as cold as ice when she spoke.
"Scram."
The model broke away from Joyce, confusion etched on his chiseled features.
Joyce let out an exasperated groan.
"Come on, Elise! I was just getting wet. You need to loosen up and have some fun."
Despite her protests, Joyce pushed the bewildered model away, straightening her disheveled dress.
"I'll find you later, hot stuff," she called after him with a wink.
Elise snickered, her eyebrow arched in amusement.
"When will you stop being such a slut?"
Joyce's eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned to face her friend.
A cheeky grin spread across her face.
"Oh? That's rich coming from the slut who followed our superstar into his room."
Elise's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, but before she could fire back a retort, a man stumbled between them.
His designer suit was rumpled, his eyes unfocused, nostrils rimmed with white powder.
He swayed on his feet, grinning at Elise with misplaced confidence.
"Welllll~ Hellooo there, gorgeous," he slurred, his attempt at charm falling flat.
"I'm Zachary Thornton III. Thornton Innovations ring a bell? We're kind of a big deal."
Elise's expression hardened, her lips pressed into a thin line. She turned away, deliberately ignoring him.
Undeterred, Zachary leaned closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. "C'mon, don't be like that. A beauty like you deserves the best, and that's me, baby."
Joyce snickered, amused by Elise's growing irritation.
Elise remained silent, her gaze fixed on a point across the room.
"Hey, I'm talking to you," Zachary persisted, his voice growing louder. "Do you know who I am? My family's worth billions. We're practically royalty in the tech world."
Elise's jaw clenched, her patience wearing thin. To her, this nouveau riche upstart was less than nothing - not even worthy of acknowledgment. She continued to stare past him, her cold demeanor a stark contrast to his coked-up enthusiasm.
"Look, I can buy you anything you want. Cars, jewelry, your own island. Just give me a chance, baby."
As Elise teetered on the edge of losing her composure, her eyes locked onto a familiar figure across the room. Brandon stood there, flanked by Devon and Pierre.
Their gazes met, and Elise felt a flicker of relief.
With a subtle gesture, she tilted her chin towards the still-rambling Zachary and rolled her eyes dramatically.
Zachary's face contorted with anger, his drug-addled mind unable to process Elise's rejection.
"You should be honored you caught my eye, you stuck-up bitch! Come suck my dick or else—"
Elise's annoyed expression morphed into something dangerous, her eyes flashing with a cold fury.
But before she could react, a loud smack echoed through the air.
SMACK!
Brandon's hand connected with the side of Zachary's head. The crack of palm meeting flesh echoed through the suddenly silent room.
Zachary, hit the ground hard, his eyes wide with shock and rage.
"Do you know who I am? I'll destroy you! The Thornton family will—"
His tirade was cut short as Brandon's sneaker pressed against the side of his face, grinding it into the plush carpet. Zachary's words devolved into muffled grunts and curses.
Pierre jumped forward, his hands raised.
"Wait! Don't stain my carpet with peasant blood. I'll take care of him..."
He snapped his fingers, and two burly bodyguards materialized from the crowd. They swiftly restrained Zachary, tying his hands behind his back and shoving a handkerchief into his mouth to muffle his screams.
Pierre waved his hand dismissively.
"You know the rules. Toss him out to sea on a lifeboat. Call up the trash's family and send them the GPS tracker. They can clean up their own filth."
The bodyguards nodded, dragging the still-struggling Zachary towards the exit.
"Uff…Mggh…Ghhaa~" His muffled protests faded as he disappeared from view.
The room fell silent, the shock of Zachary's abrupt removal hanging heavy in the air.
Pierre strode confidently towards the stage, his footsteps echoing in the hushed space. He ascended the steps with practiced ease, turning to face the crowd with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Pierre's voice boomed. "I hope you're enjoying our little soirée."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room.
"As you may have noticed, this year we've extended invitations to some... new faces." His lips curled slightly, a hint of disdain in his tone.
Pierre's jovial demeanor shifted, revealing a harder edge beneath the surface. His eyes, once twinkling with mirth, now gleamed with a predatory light.
"However," he said, his voice dropping to a register that sent shivers down spines, "Let me be crystal clear— Rules are rules!"
His eyes narrowed, focusing on a group of nervous-looking newcomers.
"You're all encouraged to indulge and have fun, but step out of line?" He chuckled darkly.
"Well, you've seen what happens to those who forget their place."
He gestured towards Elise, his voice dripping with condescension.
"This lovely lady here? She's an Oppenheimer. A name, alike most of our old friends', carry weight neither you nor your elders have yet earned the right to comprehend."
Pierre's chest puffed out as he jabbed a thumb towards himself.
"And I? I'm a duPont. Our families have shaped empires while yours were still shoveling coal if they even yet existed."
Pierre's gaze hardened, scanning the crowd with a mixture of amusement and contempt.
"Many of you, despite your so-called success, have barely scratched the surface of true power. You're here because we allow it, nothing more."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a menacing growl.
"So whatever big shot you think you or your family are, remember this: keep your heads down, or risk being wiped off the face of OUR world without even realizing why."
The room remained deathly silent, Pierre's words hanging in the air like a threat.