CHAPTER 58: AUCTION EVENT ARC 2

Steam curled in a gentle wave through the air as Maximus stepped out of the bathroom, his broad frame catching in slow, glistering streaks. Beaded droplets of water ran down his ebony black skin like they were awe of the canvas they touched.

His wool like hair was still damp, clung to his forehead and curled tighter at the ends, dripping in rhythmic succession on the marble tiles of the bathroom.

He had a pink towel on that was barely doing its job, it hung low on his waist and it was more of an afterthought than a means of coverage as he walked towards the mirror.

He stood there for a moment, breathing softly as he glared at his reflection. Water continued to glide down his chest, tracing outlines of defined muscle, mapping out weeks of discipline and recent victories. Then he straightened his posture and cleared his throat.

"Ahem...!"

"Good evening, Miss Valerie..."

He rehearsed with an outstretched hand and a cheeky eyebrow. Then he frowned, that sounded too stiff and he needed to reset.

"Miss Valerie Sawyer, it’s a pleasure to finally... no... not ’finally’"

He sighed deeply as he glared at his image again, then shrugged his shoulders aggressively as if trying to get ready for a fight.

Another attempt.

"How are you tonight? You look... stunning. As always."

He suddenly went silent, staring at himself blankly. Then shook his lips in self annoyance.

"Nah, fuck this shit..."

With a soft slap to his own cheek, Maximus exhaled sharply and turned away from the mirror. Tonight wasn’t just about being the best ’fiancee’ for Valerie, it wasn’t just about her perfect smile, her sharp gaze or the way her name made his chest swell. No, tonight was business.

Big business, the kind that demanded presence, precision and perfection.

He drew out a cabinet form the cupboard below the mirror, reached for the cordless clipper resting beside other stuff. Flipping it on, the blades revved up a soft hun that filled the silence as he began to trim, slow and focused. Each pass was intentional- his jawline sculpted to a razor-sharp edge, his cheeks smooth as glass, his side burns faded to perfection. When he finished, he wiped his hands, eyes briefly catching the subtle transformation in the mirror. It was now cleaner, sharper and he was half ready.

He strode across his bedroom, the towel still trailing water droplets behind him as he approached the wardrobe. Which was an elegant oak piece imported from a foreign country, custom-build to hold a lifestyle.

He swung the doors open.

Dozens of clothes lines the rails, his fingers hovered for a moment before settling on one; a deep midnight blue tuxedo with satin lapels and a black velvet collar. Expensive didn’t even begin to cover it.

With practised ease, he dressed slowly. One piece at a time; the crisp white shirt, the subtle cufflinks in the shape of golden M’s. the tuxedo jacket, tailored to hug his shoulders and flow down his torso like it was made by the gods.

Finally, he stepped over to the mirrored shelf lined with glass bottles. His fragrance altar. Ten different scents with ten different identities and ten different weapons.

He stood there with his hands on his waist studying them in silence.

"Dolxe & Gabbana?" he mused, lifting the bottle, admiring the weight. It was classic and refined but maybe not the right pick for what he had in mind.

Then his eyes slid to the black crystal bottle near the end of the row. "Or Nexon..." he whispered, rolling the name off his tongue like a secret code. It was sharp, spicy and modern with a kick that lingered in the memory.

He brought them both to his mose, sniffing the both of them individually. Debating.

He smirked and set down the Dolxe & Gabbana. Nexon it was.

Three deliberate sprays was all he needed. On the neck, chest and wrist of his dominant hand.

Maximus exhaled. "When it comes to fragrance, less is more", a slow, confident smile spread across his lips as he admired the full result in the mirror. The clean cut, dressed to kill, but refined enough to negotiate a kingdom into his lap.

The night air had cooled, wrapping the world in a soft velvet darkness as Maximus stepped out of the house. The sky above was deep and ink-like, scattered with stars that blinked lazily behind the haze of city lights. With a steady rhythm to his pace, he descended the short stone path leading to the garage.

And there it was, The Obsidian, sitting immaculately and predatory. It was parked beneath the warm LED lighting of the garage like it had been waiting all day just for this moment.

Maximus slid his hands into his pockets, slowly circling around the car, his shoes tapping against the concrete in a measured rhythm. Every line of the machine gleamed, every curve reflected his own image.

"I finally get to pick up a top tier woman in this beauty..." he muttered with a half smirk, stopping by the driver’s side door.

He got in, the leather seat hugging his back like a tailored glove as his fingers wrapped around the wheel, and with a turn of the keyless ignition, the engine roared to life with a fiery and untamed sound, like a beast exhaling after a long night of sleep.

Soon after, Maximus pulled out of the garage and onto the road.

The city welcomed him like it always did, it was alive, chaotic, brilliant. As he entered the downtown center, neon signs blinked across high rise buildings like constellations. The nightlife was in full swing; people laughing on sidewalks, music bleeding from roof top lounges, exhaust fumes mixing with the scent of late night street food.

He glanced down at his wrist.

7:30 PM. Right on time.

Valerie Sawyer’s home wasn’t far, but the place might as well have belonged to royalty. As the Obsidian glided down the final stretch, the landscape shifted, from buzzing nightlife to serene, secured luxury.

Then he saw it again, and it hit him like deja vu on multiple steroids... the Sawyer estate.

Just as before, it was wide, sprawling across acres of perfectly manicured land. Fountains lit from below, golf courses that stretched into the night, dozens of rare or limited edition cars lined like collections. And in the center of it all, a castle like mansion that screamed old money and undeniable power.

’Damn,’ he thought, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. ’I forgot how insane this place really is...’

The security at the place recognised his face immediately after the events that led to his being there the previous time, he waved through like a trusted guest, though a thorough scan was still standard procedure. Being Valerie Sawyer’s self proclaimed ’fiancee’ earned him access but definitely not immunity.

He parked the Obsidian just outside the main building, the engine purring one last time before it fell silent.

Opening the door and slamming his foot on the pavement, he straightened his jacket and took in a steadying breath, mindful of his confidence, posture and elegance.

’Just another evening. Just another deal...’

He stepped into the mansion, nodding a greeting to the guards standing at the main entrance.

On getting into the main lobby, he stopped dead in his tracks and froze like an ice cube in summertime.

Valerie was standing right there in the lobby, as if time had waited for her to make the first move. She wore a dress that didn’t just compliment her frame, it somehow weaponized it. Flowing silk in a hue he couldn’t possibly know the name, glittering like starlight had been woven into it. The fabric clung and flowed in all the right places, while a slit teased up one thigh like an unspoken dare.

Her hair was styled into a perfect afro, her lips curled into a beautiful smile and her eyes were stationed directly at him.

Maximus didn’t even notice the phone slipping from his grip until it hit the polished marble with a soft crack.

He blinked, suddenly aware of everything, his heartbeat, his dry mouth, the fact that he was way less composed than five minutes ago.

Valerie chuckled softly, the sound rich and amused.

She took a step toward him, tilting her head ever so slightly.

"Are you okay, baby boy?" she said, her voice like silk soaked in honey.

He tried to respond but failed, then cleared his throat and crouched to pick up his phone, his ear burning with something he couldn’t explain.

’This woman...’