“You always were a devil, Rothburn. It’ll be interesting to see which girls stand on auction tomorrow. I’ve my eye on a few. One I’ve yet to win, she’s damnably expensive. The others . well, we’ll see about the others.”

A slave brought over a tray with brandy.

Asbury waved her away, knowing how Griffin felt about the stuff. He rarely touched it—hadn’t for some years now—and for good reason.

He’d traded one addiction for another since he’d built up his empire in the silk trade. He had been schoolmates with Asbury; they’d attended Eton together. Griffin had disassociated himself from his old life when he’d left England, including all his friends.

He’d wanted to bury the past when he couldn’t have the one woman who had had a stronger effect on him than any opium he’d tried.

When he’d heard of her nuptials, through his uncle, he’d headed to the East: trading, whoring, luxuriating in depravity for some years. Then along came Asbury, his long-ago friend, who pulled him from the swarm of naked Asian beauties he’d been tasting in the opium den. Asbury had cleared away the fog clouding Griffin’s mind. Told him to pull it together or he’d beat the snot out of him. There was no doubting Asbury, always a man of his word. If Griffin had slipped over the years, and there were a few occasions he had done just that, he thought of the trouble Asbury had gone to and forced himself out of the grasp of obsession.

If Griffin were a weaker man, he’d blame his fall on his uncle. But he knew better; he was his own man, the type of man who relied on one constant or another, be it in the form of a healthy addiction or not. He had pulled himself out of every overindulging vice he’d relied on over the years, all of them pursued in the hope of erasing the one woman haunting his mind. Strange that she’d had such a strong pull on him, like the talons of a falcon with a bleeding rabbit in its sharp clasp.

And now here she was. Causing new wounds to open, while old ones tried to heal beneath.

“She’s really got you interested, this ladybird.”

Griffin snapped his head up, and pinched the flesh at the bridge of his nose.

“You surprise me, Rothburn. You rarely take such a quick liking to any woman.”

Griffin raised a brow at that. “And what if I have?”

“Well, for one, it’s a good change. You were losing interest in the world around you. I’ve known you too long not to know you were on another downward slope.”

“I’m fine, Asbury. Just tired of late. You sound more like a worried mother than a friend.”

“Yes, well, be less tired and less sullen and I’ll stop fussing like Mother Goose.”

Asbury leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankle over one knee as he got comfortable for what looked like some business talk. Griffin really wasn’t in the mood for business, but he supposed there wasn’t any way to avoid it. It was a better topic than Jinan the Turkish princess or his current state of ennui.

“I’ve got some big shipments coming in I want to discuss.”

“So, you had ulterior motives in bringing me here, Asbury.”

“Of course. How did you not realize that?”

“I realized you were softening me up for one reason or another. Where are your goods shipping through?”

Asbury smiled, more than eager to get business dealt with before their fun began tomorrow evening.

Griffin had been correct in his assessment last night. There was no mistaking those eyes lined with dark kohl. This was the right choice. He couldn’t be more positive of her identity.

She stood perfectly poised, ignored the majority of men milling around her with varying degrees of lechery in their pointed, suggestive stares. She was by far the most delectable creature in the room.

Asbury walked toward the podium Jinan stood upon. His friend had told him a moment ago that he saw a girl he was interested in. So it was Jinan who always went out of his price range. He would have laughed if his nerves weren’t on edge.

Jinan gave Asbury a cursory glance, her eyes lighting with what he could only describe as a smile—hard to tell with that damned veil in place. She leaned down to say something to him. The girl standing beside the podium laughed. He couldn’t hear anything with the drummers and singers screeching in every cranny of the room, and patrons grunting, talking, and laughing all around.

Pushing off the pillar where his foot was perched, he walked toward her. Was it possible she would even remember him? Not likely. Though he hadn’t forgotten a single thing about her. Ten years was a long time so there was no harm in showing himself to her before the bidding started.

He’d already arranged the price with Amir. The man was a shrewd businessman.

Had he known the extent of Griffin’s interest, he might have negotiated a higher amount for the few months they’d agreed on. Griffin was fool enough that he would have paid the moon and stars if that was the only way to have her.

He passed a young count buried in his ladybird. Griffin had never been one for public displays of passion, but he wouldn’t begrudge the man his pleasure. So far, though, he was the only one openly displaying his . abilities. The girl was young and exotically beautiful. The count was probably helpless to stop from testing the girl’s finer talents.

Hell, Griffin had no idea if he’d be able to keep from publicly touching the beautiful princess displayed before the minions ogling her.

He almost believed her a figment of his imagination; perhaps his memories had fabricated some chimera from what the opium had done to his mind.

Her eyes widened when he came into her line of vision. A flicker of fear lit within them and then it was gone before he could ascertain any deeper, lurking emotion.

Regardless, it was a telling reaction.

The poor creature wore nothing but her bared skin with a curtain of hair loose behind her. A great number of baubles dangled around her wrists and ankles and that veil hung defensively about her face. A clever disguise, that. Amir had been adamant that she remain veiled at all times. If Griffin had any problems with that part of the contract, he had been advised to choose one of the other women.

How many men had she recognized over the years to have to don a cloth shield?

He still found it hard to believe that he was looking at her after all these years. He should never have given up his search for her. He might have even saved her from this life. She was above selling her favors. Why he had put her upon a pedestal in his mind was anyone’s guess. But that was where she’d always stand for him.

She had filled out nicely over the years. Time had turned her into a well-rounded woman; her hips were generous, her thighs lush, her breasts heavy and more than his hands would hold. She was perfection and not far from the creature he’d been dreaming of whenever he fantasized about her. Her skin was darker than he remembered; it used to be a light bronze, now it was a darkened copper, probably stimulated by sitting in the sun.

He looked only to her deep brown eyes. If he focused on any other part of her exposed body, he would not be able to continue with the proceedings. It was tempting to haul her down from the podium and carry her off like some barbarian warlord. He shook off the thought. She’d be his soon enough. And this time, he wasn’t so inclined to let her get away.

She met his bold stare with one of her own.

Remember me, Elena . show me some sort of recognition.

Surely their time together had been mutually enjoyed. She’d laughed and danced freely with him, all without putting on the simpering airs other young chits displayed.

With her free spirit, she’d been the embodiment of everything his uncle despised. The quintessence of everything Griffin had wanted to obtain for himself. He was sure his obsession stemmed from the fact that she was forbidden. Though it was hard to recall which exact trait had reeled him in, sinking those sharp claws deep into his flesh, mind, and heart.

Movement in his peripheral sight had him dropping his gaze to where her hand curved around her hip. Was it her intention to draw his attention to her more fleshly attributes?

He raised his brow and thought of giving her some mock insulted look but decided now was not the time. He’d give her the rest of the auction to compose herself, that was, if she recognized him. Surely once she heard his name she’d show recognition.

For God’s sake, they’d been engaged, even if only secretly.

Without further ado, Griffin walked to the outskirts of the room. Amir had been insistent about having the auction go forward so others didn’t think to take advantage of bidding in advance. It was bad for business, Amir said. It stopped the patrons from spending more money than they were willing to part with.

So be it. No one but he would warm Jinan’s bedside.

No one but he would have the privilege of touching her, and revealing all her secrets.

“Eight and a half,” came the pinched, angered voice of Asbury.

So his friend had reached his limit in bidding. The man had as much money as Griffin. Why he came to a place like this and refused to spend a pretty penny on these beauties puzzled him.

“Ten.” That came from the young count. The man had quite an appetite. At least he’d pulled himself back together and tucked everything decently away before voicing his bid.

Frenchmen.

A hush came over the room. So that was as high as they’d go for his Jinan.

They’d think him a fool once he voiced his price. He waited with an unnatural calm for the auctioneer to chime in. The middle-aged man had been informed about the rigged bidding before Jinan had even stood upon the dais.

“Excellent. Well, then, gentle—”