Sold to Mr rude

Selena's POV

Cline Levée de fonds is a fundraiser event where future heiress and heirs of conglomerates attend. Each year has different activities, be it a marathon, gala, golf, or concert. And for this year's activity, it was an auction event.

"This is why I'm against you wearing a backless dress," an annoyed man's voice snapped me to my thoughts.

After glancing at his suit on my shoulders, which covered my bare back, I traced my gaze to his face. To his soft ash blonde hair, to his summer blue sky eyes, straight nose, and red wine lips that perfectly matched his small porcelain face.

The man in front of me is Dwaine Scoth. The CEO of Mercian. My boss, my friend, and my first love.

"I'm not cold, Sir Dwaine," I said quietly as I turned my gaze in front and saw the piercing gazes directed at me. "I'm also afraid that your fangirls would eat me up. So, take this suit away and take pity on your secretary."

"I don't care. It's not like their jealousy would harm our mission tonight," Dwaine retorts, leaving the last sentence in a serious tone.

That's right, we didn't attend this event just for the fundraiser. We came here solely for our mission. And that is to save our company, Mercian, which is now on the brink of danger. And to do that, we need someone's help.

"He's here," Dwaine uttered, which made me look at the entrance door of Cline's VVIP hall.

And the person who would help us is Maxwell Lawson, the very same man who's now paving his way inside the hall.

As the chandelier's light cast a shadow on his brushed-up jet-black hair, his hawkish gaze met everyone's gazes, making them hold their breath under his villainous, strong presence.

No one dared to come closer to him as all they could do was stare at his picturesque face.

Maxwell Lawson—The CEO of Zuiqe and future heir of the Lawson group. A group everyone is afraid of getting involved with. The reason? They're known for being ruthless, especially Maxwell.

And the only person who bravely took the first opportunity to approach him was Dwaine.

"Maxwell, it's a surprise to see you here," said Dwaine with a gentle smile. "You rarely attend this kind of event."

Maxwell's face remained stoic until he grabbed a glass of red wine. "I'm also surprised to see you here, Dwaine," said Maxwell in a cold, low voice, the corner of his lips tugging up. "I guess you can't even resist having fun despite the conflict in your company."

What Maxwell said was a complete ridicule—gaining unwanted whispers from the audience.

"I heard Lawson and Scoth's are on bad terms. I guess it's true."

"That can't be helped. We're talking business here. Zuiqe and Mercian had been competing for the number one spot for the best fashion brand company in the fashion world. And now Mercian's is in a dire situation; it wouldn't be surprising that Maxwell is happy with it."

Yes, they are right. Maxwell Lawson is indeed our company's greatest rival. That's why, just to ask for his help, we can't help but swallow our pride.

Under the unpleasant attention, Dwaine kept his emotions under control and kept a smile on his face.

"You're right. I indeed can't miss the fun." Dwaine took a glass of cocktail and spoke, "So, why don't we make it more entertaining by placing a bet on the last item on the auction? The highest bidder would be the winner. And the loser must do whatever the winner wishes. How about it?"

A bet. This is a risky move we need to make for Maxwell to help us. Once we won the bet, we would use it for a collaboration contract between Mercian and Zuiqe. And once the collaboration sets off, we can save the company.

And the chances of Maxwell taking our bait would be 90 percent.

My guess became right as soon as Maxwell spoke.

"A bet…" he murmured, not adding words for a long moment.

It was then, when his vampirish black eyes sharply stared through my eyes, Maxwell continued, "Count me in."

Chills run down my spine immediately.

'Did he just smirk at me?'

Oddly enough, an ominous feeling plagued my heart.

And that lousy feeling immediately came after the lights went off and the spotlight went through the stage.

"Distinguished guests, welcome to Cline Levée de fonds," after the formal greetings, the auctioneer made an announcement that shook everyone.

"We will hold an exciting auction to celebrate Cline's 20th anniversary. This time, the items that you'll bid would be you, our guests."

…………………………

Third Person POV.

"Going once for number 23."

"Going twice."

"And Mr. Jones is sold to number 23!"

Enthusiastic cheers penetrated the hall for a moment.

In contrast to the lively atmosphere, Selena's heart was filled with nervousness.

"Now, for our third item, we have Selena Moore. A beautiful executive secretary of the CEO of Mercian! Let's start with one million dollars. Oh, it looks like Miss Moore is popular," with great energy, the auctioneer started to call the bidder's numbers.

With the spotlight shot on her, Selena felt increasing anxiety.

Their plan was simple: win the bet and make Maxwell comply with their wish. However, her confidence in the plan's success plummeted when she was randomly selected as one of the auction items through drawing lots.

And it has something to do with all the lustful gazes she got from the bidders who can't wait to have a one-day date with her if they manage to win.

Because she knew what would follow next, and her fear came true.

"Five million dollars."

Gasped filled the place at the new bidder's offer.

"Five million dollars for number 18!"

Selena's brows were etched as she looked at Dwaine, who raised his card with the number eighteen on it.

'You can't, Dwaine!' However, no matter how she gazed at Dwaine with a warning, Dwaine raised the bid higher, not intending to let all the lecherous men touch her.

Selena worriedly thought, 'With Mercian's dangerous situation, Dwaine was forced to use his own money for the auction. Fifty million dollars. That's the maximum money he can bet with Maxwell. So, he's supposed to use it for the last item. However, if he continued to bid more for me, we would surely lose to Maxwell. As well as Mercian.'

And while Selena and Dwaine were preoccupied with the auction, a hand raised in midair.

A deep, cold voice followed it.

"Thirty-Million dollars."

Everyone ghastly turned their head at the bidder.

Comfortably sitting on his seat as he sips his wine with an imperceptible smirk, he raises his card again and adds his bid more.

"Fifty-Million dollars."

Gulping, the auctioneer announced, "Fi-fifty dollars for number 17, Maxwell Lawson!"

'What!? Is he kidding?' Stupified, Selena dazedly stared at Maxwell. 'No. He must be up to something. Fifty million is a big sum. There's no way he'll tactlessly spend it on me—who's not even the last item. After all, you can only bid one item.'

In the midst of surprises, a pair of blue eyes gawked bouncily between Selena and Maxwell. Pressing his lips in a tight line, he raised his hands.

"Sixty million dollars," Dwaine declared, stealing the show from Maxwell.

Selena widened her eyes at Dwaine. 'Dwaine, this is a trap! Don't fall for it!'

Not minding the gazes, Selena shook her head. 'He's baiting you to bid on me. That way, he'll win the bet!'

But is that really a trap by Maxwell?

The answer to that question came quickly.

"Two hundred million dollars."

Silence once again struck the hall.