Chapter 16: Princess For Sale

Aizen's POV

Tonight marks the annual gathering for one of our charitable endeavors. I was in charge of planning this and I did so last year. If only I had foreseen my Father's decision to include Desiree in the lineup, I would have vehemently opposed the notion from the start. 

The sight of Desiree in the company of another man ignited a firestorm of rage within me, burning with an intensity that threatened to consume everything in its path. Every fiber of my being recoiled at the audacity of Aleksandr's touch, his hands daring to lay claim to what rightfully belonged to me. I wanted to slice through his throat. 

How dare he? How dare he covet what's mine?

The party's lavish surroundings faded into insignificance as my focus narrowed to the scene playing out before me. A sea of faces, each one filled with a hunger that mirrored my own, their lustful gazes fixated on my wife. The realization hit me like a blow to the chest—I despised it, every single moment of it. I hadn't anticipated the depth of my loathing, the sheer magnitude of the possessiveness that consumed me. But as I stood there, surrounded by a throng of men vying for her attention, I couldn't deny the seething jealousy that boiled within me. 

They could look all they wanted, but Desiree was mine and mine alone. 

Anyone who dared forget it would meet their end.

Desiree is mine. She said it herself, didn't she? I won't let anyone get their hands on her. Only I can look at her and touch her. She's mine. 

"Aizen," Desiree's gentle voice broke through the haze of my thoughts, drawing me back to the present moment. "The staff is calling me to go change now... Will you be alright waiting?" Her concern was evident in her words, a tender reassurance that touched my heart. "You'll behave, right?"

I nodded, pressing a tender kiss to her hand. "Just make sure whatever you wear isn't covering the mark I left you," I murmured, enfolding her in a tight embrace. "I want everyone to know that you're mine." It felt possessive, almost selfish, to express such a sentiment, but the thought of anyone else laying claim to her stirred a primal instinct within me. I hate being jealous. 

She chuckled softly, returning my embrace with equal warmth. "I won't be long," she promised, her words a soothing balm to the turmoil raging within me. 

I watched as her image disappeared along with the other women who were to be auctioned for the night, a pang of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. The mere thought of someone else daring to approach her, to engage her in conversation, or, worse yet, to share a dance with her, filled me with a simmering rage that threatened to boil over. The idea of another man's hands on her, another man's voice whispering in her ear, was enough to send me teetering on the edge of madness. 

The night unfolded with the familiar rhythm of social obligations, as I navigated the sea of guests with practiced ease. Handshakes were exchanged, and pleasantries were exchanged, all in the name of maintaining favorable relations with our business partners. Yet, amidst the façade of congeniality, Desiree lingered in the recesses of my mind like a haunting specter, her absence a palpable ache that gnawed at my insides. 

As the auction commenced, my gaze fixated on Desiree with a mixture of longing and frustration. I seethed with silent fury at my father's decision to include her in this spectacle, cursing him under my breath for subjecting her to such indignity. The costumes chosen for the occasion were disgusting, each one more ludicrous than the last, and I fought the urge to murder whoever had orchestrated this farce. 

Anime? Really? I'm gonna kill whoever pervert chose those ridiculus costumes!

Desiree emerged on stage, her figure clad in a school uniform that both intrigued and incensed me. Unlike the other women, her attire was modest, yet it hugged her curves in all the right places, accentuating her youthful beauty with a tantalizing allure. The uniform, tailored to perfection, cloaked her in an aura of innocence that only served to heighten her allure. Her chest and arms were shielded from prying eyes, but her skirt, though not scandalously short, revealed a tantalizing glimpse of her toned legs, clad in knee socks that added a playful touch to her ensemble. Her long black hair was fashioned into twin pigtails adorned with space buns reminiscent of Sailor Moon. 

The air buzzed with anticipation as the crowd erupted into cheers and whistles, their attention fixated on the spectacle unfolding before them. Yet, amidst the cacophony of noise and excitement, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at my gut. Each cheer, each whistle, felt like a dagger aimed at my heart, a painful reminder of the possessive fury bubbling beneath the surface. 

Every gaze, every whispered word, seemed to hone in on what was rightfully mine, and I struggled to contain the rising tide of anger threatening to engulf me. The lecherous glances, the salacious comments—they were like poison, poisoning the air with their vulgarity. I longed to silence them, to shove the disgusting words back down their throats where they belonged. But I knew that succumbing to such impulses would only fan the flames of chaos, and so I clenched my fists, forcing myself to maintain a façade of composure amidst the storm of emotions raging within me.

As the auction progressed, my apprehension mounted with each passing woman who was paraded before the eager bidders. Each one felt like a dagger aimed at my heart, a painful reminder of the impending moment when Desiree would be subjected to the same scrutiny. The thought of her being taken away from me, even for a moment, filled me with a visceral dread that tightened like a vice around my chest. 

"And last but not least is the princess of the Nara clan," the auctioneer declared, his words piercing the air with a weight that settled heavily upon my shoulders. With a sense of resignation, I watched as Desiree stepped into the spotlight at the center of the stage, her presence commanding the attention of all who beheld her. 

A collective gasp of awe swept through the crowd, followed by a deafening chorus of cheers and applause. They hailed her as a vision of beauty, a goddess among mortals, but to me, she was so much more. She was my anchor, my light in the darkness, and the thought of anyone else laying claim to her filled me with a primal fury that simmered just beneath the surface. 

As Desiree stood poised and confident upon the stage, her smile radiant and her movements graceful, I couldn't help but see past the facade she presented to the world. Beneath the veneer of composure, a flicker of anxiety danced in her eyes, a silent plea for reassurance that only I could perceive. With each step she took, and each smile she offered to the eager onlookers, I sensed the weight of her apprehension pressing down upon her shoulders. 

She played her part flawlessly, acknowledging the crowd with a regal nod, striking a pose as instructed by the staff, and reciting the rehearsed catchphrase with practiced ease. But I could see the tension in the set of her shoulders, the tightness around her eyes betraying the turmoil roiling beneath the surface. 

"For the diamond, the princess, do I hear 500,000?" the auctioneer's voice rang out, cutting through the hushed murmurs of the crowd. The question hung in the air like a tangible force, a stark reminder of the reality of the situation. 

"500,000," Aleksandr's voice cut through the charged atmosphere, his eyes locking onto mine with a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, a silent challenge in his gaze. 

Without hesitation, I countered with a bid of "1,000,000," my voice steady despite the turmoil churning within me. 

The auctioneer's excitement was palpable as he declared, "1,000,000 to Mr. Nara!" The room buzzed with anticipation as he continued, "Going once. Going twice."

A challenger emerged with a bid of "1,500,000," igniting a frenzy of bidding that propelled the price ever higher.

With each escalating offer, a knot tightened in my chest, my fists clenching with the intensity of my resolve. And then, in a decisive moment, I raised the stakes with a bid of "10,000,000," a declaration that left no room for doubt. 

"Going once. Going twice. Sold!" The auctioneer's proclamation rang out triumphantly, applause rippling through the room as he declared, "Sold to Mr. Nara himself!"

Stepping onto the stage, I approached Desiree, her expression a mix of astonishment and uncertainty. Seizing the moment, I took hold of the microphone, my voice commanding attention as I spoke from the depths of my conviction. "I don't believe in placing a price on the woman who is my world," I declared, my words carrying the weight of my unwavering devotion. "But tonight, I had to. Desiree is priceless. So, all of you, stop staring and keep it in your pants!" 

Turning to Desiree, I enveloped her in my embrace, draping my jacket over her shoulders in a protective gesture. "Let's go home," I said, guiding her away from the prying eyes of the crowd and into the sanctuary of our shared intimacy. 

Desiree nodded in silent agreement, her trust in me evident in the way she followed my lead without hesitation. As we made our way through the crowd, I could sense the hushed whispers and stunned gazes that trailed in our wake, a testament to the impact of our departure. The air was tinged with admiration, murmurs of approval floating on the heels of our exit, mingling with the soft applause that echoed through the room. 

Yet amidst the sea of accolades, I knew that my father's reaction would be less than favorable. His expectations and traditions clashed with my unyielding determination to protect what was mine, regardless of the consequences. 

Reaching the waiting car, I guided Desiree inside, the click of the closing window sealing us off from the prying eyes of the outside world. In the intimate space of our cocoon, an overwhelming surge of jealousy coursed through me, igniting a firestorm of desire that demanded release. 

Without a word, I closed the distance between us, my lips crashing against hers in a fervent kiss that left no room for doubt. Every touch, every caress, was a declaration of my possession, my hands gripping hungrily over her body, claiming her as mine. The kiss deepened, passion igniting like a flame as our tongues danced in a heated tango, exploring every sweet corner of her mouth. 

As I reluctantly pulled away, Desiree was left flushed and breathless, her chest rising and falling in rapid rhythm, a testament to the intensity of our shared desire. "Stop," she managed to gasp between pants, her voice barely a whisper in the charged atmosphere that surrounded us. "Aizen…"

Driven by an insatiable hunger, I kissed her again with fervent abandon, my lips tracing a path of longing across her skin. My hand, fueled by an overwhelming need to possess her, found its way to her thigh, gripping it with a force that elicited a sharp flinch from her. Ignoring her protests, I showered kisses upon her neck, consumed by a desire to devour every inch of her. 

"That hurts," she uttered softly, her hand trembling as it sought to alleviate the pressure of my grip. "Aizen, stop," she pleaded, her voice a delicate whisper, her words a desperate plea to quell the rising tide of discomfort. "Please… you're hurting me."

But my desire raged unchecked, a fire consuming all reason and restraint. I couldn't stop. I wanted her, all of her, and nothing else mattered in that moment. Pulling away, I met her gaze, the sight of fear and pain reflected in her eyes piercing me to the core. "I'm sorry," I murmured, releasing my hold on her thigh, my heart heavy with remorse. 

This was the first time I'd ever hurt her physically. Not once, not even in our childhood spats, had I ever laid a hand on her. I always held back, never hit her, never left a scratch or a bruise. I even stood up to Matte when he caused that scar on Desiree's knee. So seeing the dark, ugly bruise I'd left on her thigh was gut-wrenching. 

"You're afraid of me," I whispered, my voice heavy with regret as I peered into her tear-filled eyes. Leaning into her embrace, I buried my face against her chest, consumed by a tidal wave of remorse. Her trembling arms enveloped me, offering a fleeting sense of solace amid the turmoil threatening to tear us apart. 

"Idiot," Desiree sobbed, her tears mingling with my hair as she held me close. "I'm not afraid of you, Aizen…" Her grip tightened on my shirt, her hands betraying a mixture of anger and pain. "I am hurt."

But even as she spoke the words, I saw the truth reflected in her gaze. Fear lurked there, hidden beneath the surface of her bravado. She was afraid of me, and the realization cut through me like a knife, leaving me to grapple with the devastating consequences of my actions. 

"Why did you agree to come out looking like that?" I demanded, struggling to contain the storm of emotions raging within me. "People were staring at you like you were some piece of meat to be bought and sold."

Desiree's voice wavered with pain as she responded, tears glistening in her eyes. "I didn't have a choice..." she sobbed, her words choked with anguish. "They picked the costumes, the poses, the stupid catchphrases... Why are you taking it out on me?" She sniffled, her breath hitching with each shuddering inhale. "I thought everything was fine... I didn't expect you to react like this..."

Meeting her gaze, I felt a wave of remorse wash over me. "I'm so sorry, Desiree," I murmured, enfolding her in a gentle yet firm embrace. "I let my jealousy get the best of me. I couldn't stand the thought of anyone else even looking at you, let alone touching you or dancing with you." Cupping her cheeks in my hands, I pressed my forehead against hers, a silent plea for forgiveness. "I felt possessive like you were the only thing that mattered to me." With a frustrated growl, I slammed my fist against the seat beside her. "Fuck," I cursed, the weight of my actions crashing down upon me. 

Desiree flinched at the sudden outburst, her eyes squeezing shut as she trembled beneath me. "You're so mean," she whispered, her voice laced with pain as she wiped away her tears. "You're acting like a complete jerk."

The fear in her words cut through me like a knife, my heart clenching at the thought of losing her. "Are you going to leave me?" I asked, my voice breaking with desperation. 

You'll abandon me, right? You made it clear that day that if I do anything to betray you or your trust… whatever this is, it's over…