Plan the sale when you plan the advertisement.

-Leo Burnett

Marco Orsini's POV

"Don't you have better things to do than to slouch here in my office this morning?"

The dry comment that dragged me of my reverie came from my best friend, the duke, Don Lucca Cavelli.

I scowled at him. "Can't I visit a good friend of mine in my free time?"

"Visit?" The duke repeated mockingly, without even lifting his eyes from the paper works he's been so busy reading. "I'm sure you have a million better things to do than visit me, Marco."

"Ouch," I said theatrically, placing both of my hands in my chest. "You wounded me."

"Really, mon amico." Lucca managed to drag his eyes from the boring papers he'd been reading. "What's the catch? Why are you here? You are not the type of person who will slouch here in my office for nothing."

"I'm just bored, Your Royal Highness," I answered a little defensively. In truth, it's been a whole week since the luncheon Francesca and I attended and since then, the icy widow managed to dodge me.

The real reason I visited Lucca was to discreetly inquire about that maddening woman's whereabouts without the duke suspecting anything about my association with the cold woman. Dio, if I didn't know better, I would think that she reduces me with one of her lapdogs.

"Bored?" I heard the duke repeated sarcastically. "If you're bored to tears why don't you call your mistress and do something that you will both enjoy."

I frowned and stretched my legs forward. "I don't have a mistress at the moment."

"You don't have what?" Lucca gaped at me. Astonishment was visible on his aristocratic face. "Care to repeat that, amico? I think I didn't hear you right."

I shifted my position in the leather chair as I tried to remain unruffled from my unexpected slip of the tongue. I took a deep breath. "I said I am not currently attached to anyone."

"When?"

"When what?"

"When was the last time you had a mistress?" Lucca asked without a heartbeat looking at me straight from the eyes.

"Does it matter?"

"When?" The duke repeated his question. From the look on his face, it seems that he will not leave this topic unless I answer him. I cursed myself silently. "When was the last time you had a mistress, Marco?"

I swore loudly. "About the time we rescued your wife from that psycho ex-fiancé of hers in Las Vegas."

Lucca Cavelli's eyes widened. "That long?"

"It's that long," I answered defensively, looking away from his scrutinizing gaze. "I've been just busy that's all—hey, what with that look?"

"Nothing," The duke said casually, returning his eyes on the papers in his hands. "Now, I understand."

"Understand what?" I gave him a thunderous glare.

The duke signed without lifting his eyes on the blasted papers. "What you are experiencing now was just pure sexual frustration. I didn't realize that I will witness this day that you will have a lack of supply with women, amico."

My eyebrows shot upward as I shifted in my position. "Excuse me, Your Excellency. Let me clear this to you. I don't have a lack of supply with women. I just took a break from them."

"Yeah," Lucca agreed cheerfully, grinning ear to ear which made me want to strangle him with my bare hands. "You took a break from them for half a year. I didn't know that you could be celibate that long."

"Think what you like, Lucca," I growled at him darkly.

"You know what," the duke ignored my dark mood and opened his drawer and pulled what looked like a ticket. "I have a solution to your problem. It's tonight."

"What is this?" I looked at the offered ticket in my hand.

"My wife created a foundation for her late father for the benefits of the orphaned in Moscow tonight there will be a ball. A charity auction."

I shook my head. "I'm not interested." I placed back the ticket on the duke's glass table. I have enough of this charity thing. The last time I attended one I donated half a million Euros to have that cold-hearted woman agree to help me with my quest.

Lucca glared at me insolently. "What kind of friend are you? You won't even help my wife to her charity event? I think you will like it. It's a bachelorette auction."

"Not interested."

The duke sighed deeply. "Your donation will be valuable, Marco. Plus, my wife would be extremely happy if you help. Hell, even Francesca agreed to help."

Now that he mentioned that name, I suddenly became interested. "Oh? How does she help? Does the ice queen personally select the bachelorette that is to be auctioned?"

This must be the reason why she hasn't contacted me this week even once. A single phone call to inquire if I am still breathing the reason was she's busy with this event. Damn, why do I feel I am acting like a love-sick fool?

"Actually no," I heard the duke replied, rubbing his jaw as if forcing himself not to smile. "Quite the opposite, in fact. She's one of the bachelorettes."

"What?!" I abruptly stood, as if some had just lit a firecracker in my chair. "What did you just say?"

"There's no need to shout, Marco," Lucca said casually unruffled by my outburst. "I'm stunned if they don't hear all the way down to the lobby."

"Did you just—"

"Yes," Lucca smiled maddeningly as he played with his fountain pen enjoying my reaction. "Kind-hearted friend, isn't she? She agreed to help my wife for this event."

"Did your wife plan all of this?" Every cell in my body was out for blood.

The duke shook his head. "It was a last-minute decision when one of the bachelorettes came back out for her modeling assignment this week. Francesca stepped in."

Did she volunteer herself to be auctioned? The thought was bloody frustrating.

"You know what, Lucca?" I heard myself said with a barely controlled rage. "I think I changed my mind. I will help the duchess with her charity works." I am shocked to see that my hands were quite steady when I tucked the ticket in the breast pocket of my coat. "I'll see you tonight."

I will kill anyone who will bid even a single centavo to Francesca Marcolini with my bare hands. Even if I need to manslaughter everyone inside the ballroom tonight. So be it.

How far will you go to help your friend?

The question that started all kept playing inside my head repeatedly as I stood at the backstage in the grand ballroom of the Rostov Hotel. My heart is thundering inside my rib cage while my legs are like jelly.

The charity auction was progressing smoothly yet my nerves were shaking. Even though I am at my full glory, I couldn't help but feel insured with the other bachelorettes to be auctioned. From supermodels to socialites they all look like goddesses that came from ancient Rome. Next to them, I feel old and unattractive.

What madness had possessed Tatiana to think that I can contend with these beauties?

"Francesca!" I smiled at the very pregnant Tatiana Cavelli approaching me.

"This is the worst thing you could ever do to me, Your Excellency," I told her as I accepted her hug.

"You'll keep." The duchess beamed. "By the way, you look gorgeous. I am sure you will be one of the highest-paid for the auction."

"You do know how to make me feel well."

"Trust me, Francesca," Tatiana said proudly. You are one of the most beautiful women I ever see. Men will drool at you when they see you later."

I gave a shaky laugh. "You've got some imaginations, dear."

"Pardon, Your Excellency." One of the staff had said. "But we need your opinion, ma'am."

"Excuse me, Francesca. But I need to do my duty, all right?"

I laughed. "Don't mind me, dear."

I watched the very confident Duchess of Caprielle walk with the staff who probably reports about the progressing ball. She is now really capable of her surroundings very different from the wallflower heiress I met over a year ago.

"We're about to start." One of the organizers said. My nerves spike up again. I took a deep breath. I can do this, I told myself.

The first one to be auctioned was the redhead bombshell that turned every head in her direction as she walked.

As one by one the ladies went up to the stage and were auctioned by single men for a one-night date. And then my time has arrived after that woman on the stage I will be facing my fate. As I stood waiting for my number to be called by the host, I realized one thing.

It is one thing to let yourself be auctioned but it was an entirely different thing to be the lowest price to be sold. It was mortifying.

"Excuse me," I asked the passing staff. "What is the highest bid for a sold bachelorette?"

"Two hundred thousand Euros."

Oh, God, I thought dreadfully. "The lowest?"

"Two thousand."

If I could only get 2,100 Euros I will be fine.

".... please welcome candidate number 16. Francesca Marcolini." The host had said over the microphone.

My legs nearly gave me away. I was shaking badly as I walked to the center of the stage. I couldn't hear the background about me the host had been promoting to the guest inside the ballroom.

"Two thousand!" Someone had shouted.

Wow, not bad.

"Three thousand!" Someone shouted on the other side.

"Four!"

"Ten!"

"Ten thousand." The host repeated, asking for any bid other than that amount.

"Fifteen!" the guy in the front said. I'd settle for that amount.

"Fifteen thousand, gents." The host had said. "Any more bids?"

"One million Euros!"

The entire ballroom adopted complete silence as the spotlight searched for the person who just spoke that astonishing amount. I could feel my heart is galloping in my chest as I recognized the familiar voice.

Please don't let him be that guy, I prayed earnestly.

"One million Euros, for that woman." He spoke again, finally, the spotlight found him leaning casually in the far end wall of the ballroom. His stance was relaxed but I could see the tension in his body as well the defiance in his magnificent eyes.

"One million." The host had swallowed and finally recovered from his shock. "Any bid other than that?"

The room was still stunned at the bid of this crazy man.

"Going once, going twice? Sold. Candidate number sixteen was sold for one million Euros."

The crowd gasped and murmured to themselves at the turn of the events. While I took no notice of them my sole gaze was fixed at the man who might be considered as the devil himself and right now, he looks like one ready to claim his purchase. He started to advance at the stage. My instinct told me to run but I couldn't move my legs.

"Mine," Marco Orsini said once he reached the stage. "You are now mine, Francesca."

Without any notice, he swung me on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and gave the audience something they will talk about for decades.

Oh, God. Someone had just awakened the slumbering beast. But who was it?

My last vision of the upside-down ballroom in my vision before Marco Orsini marched down the stage was the triumph in Tatiana's eyes for the enormous amount.