The hairpin was clearly designed for a man. The pure gold shaft was carved with intricate, almost mythic patterns, and the amber caught the light, and the stone set into it flashed with a clean, expensive sparkle.
It was lavish without being gaudy—elegant in a way that made Maeve instantly picture someone wearing it and looking unfairly good.
Opening bid: thirty thousand. Each raise: fifty thousand.
Maeve quickly tapped her seat button. She wanted it.
Andres studied her, thoughtful.
A woman bidding on a man's hairpin? So she really did have someone on the side?
Jealousy hit him, sharp, irrational, and before he could talk himself out of it, he tapped his button too.
If she wanted it, he suddenly didn't want her to have it.
Maeve shot him a look, half scolding, half amused. "You're seriously bidding against me?"
Andres smiled, calm as ever. "It's beautiful. I like it."
And if she planned to give it to some man, he'd rather burn the money than let that happen.
Maeve rolled her eyes. "You can't even use it."
"And you can?" Andres lifted a brow. "It's for men."
"I'm buying it for someone."
"I'm collecting it."
In full view of the room, they went back and forth, neither yielding. A piece that started at thirty thousand climbed—absurdly—to one million eight hundred thousand.
Maeve couldn't outspend Andres, and this kind of pointless tug-of-war was turning the whole thing into a circus.
While the two of them fought in silence, Declan somehow became the final winner.
The reason was almost ridiculous.
Maeve stopped bidding. Andres, seeing her stop, paused too.
Declan seized the opening and snapped it up at one million eight hundred fifty thousand.
Then, under Andres's distinctly unfriendly stare, he turned to Maeve with an easy smile. "I'll pay. The hairpin's yours."
Maeve hadn't expected that ending. With no better option, she accepted the favor. "Thank you."
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