(Grace’s POV)
"Two hundred million," the oil tycoon counters.
"Three hundred million," Dorian says without hesitation.
"Dorian—" I start.
"Four hundred million."
"Five hundred million."
The room goes silent.
Five hundred million dollars. For a crown.
The oil tycoon hesitates, then his gaze hardens, unwilling to concede defeat.
"Going once," the auctioneer says. "Going twice—"
"Six hundred million," Dorian says.
Gasps echo around the table.
I stare at him, unable to process what's happening.
"Seven hundred million," the oil tycoon says, his jaw tight.
"Eight hundred million," Dorian counters smoothly.
"Nine hundred million," the tycoon says through gritted teeth.
Dorian leans back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips.
"One billion."
The room erupts.
People are
