Page 48 of Auctioned to My Bratva Boss

The air carried that expensive smell, the kind you can just tell costs money. Crystal chandeliers lined the corridor, one after another. Racks of exquisite gowns filled both sides, each price tag worth several years of my life. They'd even divided the walkway—one side for men, one for women. Even the staff at the entrance had model-worthy figures.

I walked carefully across the gleaming floor, terrified I'd dirty it. Rich people probably never got their shoes dirty.

By the time we reached the ready-to-wear section, I still hadn't figured out what to do with my hands.

"What can I get you, ladies?" A clerk approached with a practiced smile. "Coffee or juice?"

"Black coffee. No sugar." Veronica settled onto the leather sofa like she owned the place. "I'm cutting back."

The clerk's gaze shifted to me.

"Water... thanks." I tucked my chin.

"Any new arrivals?" She gestured lazily at several gowns. "Let me see those."

Staff rushed to retrieve them. She examined each one before selecting a piece and disappearing into the fitting room.

When she emerged in a silver gown, I almost forgot where I was. She looked like she'd stepped out of a painting, every movement graceful in a way I'd never known.

"Riley, what do you think?" She turned before the mirror, then looked at me. "Does it suit me?"

Honestly, her figure made everything look good.

"It does," I said. "Silver's elegant on you."

Without a word, she grabbed another dress and went back in.

"What about this one?" She appeared in a red evening gown. "How's this?"

The skirt was velvet, the fabric transitioning in a V-shape.

"I think this one's better," I said carefully. "Red brings out your complexion. The cut's more flattering too. And at a banquet with dim lighting, red stands out more than silver."

For someone aiming to be a designer, aesthetic judgment was required.

"That's your level of taste?" Her eyebrow arched, words sharp as knives. "Makes me wonder how a tacky little thing like you wormed your way into Bykov's design department."

The surrounding staff bit their lips and looked down, pretending they hadn't heard. My jaw clenched. I wanted to fight back.

But before I could speak, she raked her eyes over me from head to toe and crossed her arms. "Plain-looking. Even the company uniform looks cheap on you. Don't you worry about hurting the brand image?"

The cruelty stung my throat. With her looks, she could call ninety percent of women plain and poorly dressed. I smiled bitterly to myself.

She waved at a nearby clerk. "You—pick out some clothes for her. Let's see her try something on."

For a second, I thought my ears had failed me. I didn't buy her sudden generosity.

"I want to see if anything here can salvage that frumpy look."

Both clerks' faces twisted with discomfort. One circled me, studying, then shook her head.

"I'm sorry, ma'am." Her voice grew smaller. "We... we don't carry this lady's size."

The air froze.

Veronica blinked. Then she laughed.

"Did you hear that?" She covered her mouth, but her voice dripped with mockery. "They don't have anything that fits you. Riley, you're really... something."