A long, slinky red dress hangs by itself on a clothing rack. Although she doesn't have a baby bump yet, Avery is nervous about wearing something so tight. She feels self-conscious about gaining pregnancy weight, but the stylist promises her it will be flattering. As soon as she slips the dress on, she agrees. It hugs her curves perfectly, accentuating her breasts and slim waist.

A hairdresser twists her hair into an elegant bun, revealing her swan-like neck, and an assistant gives her a long diamond and ruby studded necklace. A makeup artist swoops in and applies a thin layer of makeup to her flawless skin. He gives her smokey eyes and applies a red lipstick that perfectly matches her dress. She feels unusually sexy.

She can feel Evan's eyes on her the moment she steps out of the dressing room. His eyes trail down her body and up to her face and then back down to her body. She shivers. The room is filled with stylists and bodyguards, but he looks like he wants to rip her dress off and fuck her on the floor.

Evan has changed into a black tuxedo, and his hair has been trimmed and styled. He seems to radiate power and control, and she fights the urge to run across the room and throw her arms around her neck. As she crosses the room, she can hear the stylists whispering among themselves.

"I always knew she was a beauty, but I never realized she was so sexy," whispers one assistant.

"Do you really think Evan Howel would stay with someone who isn't?" another whisper. "I mean, do you see the way he's looking at her?"

Evan takes her hands in his and slowly twirls her around. His eyes are fiery as he plants a slow kiss on her exposed neck. She bites her lip and tries to pull away from him.

"Evan, please just tell me where we're going," she whispers.

He shakes his head and leads her out to the waiting helicopter. After a long flight, the helicopter finally lands on an unmarked helipad on the roof of a tall building. Evan helps her down and carries her inside to a private elevator. Her stomach nervously churns as she wonders where he's taking her.

They step off the elevator, and she looks around the room. Several well-dressed men and women are looking through glossy catalogs. She can see pictures of antiques, priceless art, and stunning jewelry.

"Are we at an auction?" Avery asks. "Evan, why have you brought me to an auction?"

Evan laces his fingers through hers and says, "I want to buy you something."

"You've given me enough already," Avery says. "I don't need anything else from you."

"This gift is special," Evan says, squeezing her hand. "Everything else I've ever given you will pale in comparison."

Avery feels her stomach turn. Is he going to buy another engagement ring? She wonders. Usually, when he wants something from an auction, he sends someone to bid for him. Is this gift really so special that he has to bid himself?

"If you don't tell me what it is, I might not accept it," Avery says. "How do you even know it's something I'll like?"

Evan ignores her and pulls her toward the polished oak doors. Before the doorman can open them, Robert runs up. His face is red and sweaty, and he looks angry.

"Mr. Howel, the men, just told me that Mr. Oliver is here too," Robert says. "I've told the men to prepare for an attack. If you want to teach Mr. Oliver a lesson, they're ready."

The color drains from Evan's face, and his eyes flash dangerously. Avery feels her blood go cold. If Evan attacks Jackson, the war between the Howel's and the Olivers will begin again, she thinks. This time, I don't think they'll stop until at least one of them is dead. I can't let Evan die—this whole deal I've made with Andrew will be for nothing.

"No," Evan says in a cold voice. "Tell the men they can't attack."

Avery looks up at Evan in confusion. His entire body is tense, and he has her hand in a death grip. Saying no seems to have cost him every ounce of his self-control. She strokes the back of his hand with her thumb to calm him, but he doesn't seem to notice.

I wonder why he refused to attack, she thinks. Is it because he's scared of his grandfather? Or is he worried about putting me in danger again? Or is this auction really that important to him?

Slowly, Evan calms down. He laces her arm through his and proudly walks into the auction hall as if nothing has happened. A team of bodyguards surrounds them on all sides, keeping the other bidders at a safe distance. A man in a white suit leads them to a private room on a balcony above the main hall.

Evan stops outside the doors to the room and waves the bodyguards inside. The men immediately begin searching every corner of the room. They look behind the curtains and under the sofa cushions, and they even lift the paintings from the walls and pull the carpet up from the floors. After a quick but thorough search, the head bodyguard nods, and Evan leads Avery to a black leather sofa.

"Sir, I thought you'd want to know that Mr. Oliver is in the room next door," Robert says. "He sent you a bottle of champagne and said he's sorry about the bombing."

"Champagne?" Evan asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, sir," Robert says. "The men have already checked the bottle, and they say it's completely safe. It hasn't been tampered with at all. Do you want me to bring it up, or have it returned to him?"

"Bring it up," Evan orders.

Moments later, a bodyguard enters the room carrying a silver ice bucket. The gold foil on the top of the bottle peeks out over the top of the bucket. Evan stands and calmly grabs the bottle to see the label. It's an 1869 Piper-Heidsieck—the same vintage that czars and royal families often give to each other when signing treaties or agreeing upon a marriage.

"The bottle sold at auction for $280,000," Robert says.

Evan laughs, but the sound is harsh and cold. He leans down to Robert and whispers something into the butler's ear. Robert's face pales, but he nods and rushes out of the room. Avery raises her eyebrows at Evan, wondering what he's planning, but she's too afraid to ask. Evan sits back down and casually wraps his arm around her shoulder.

Avery looks out the window at the auction below. A beautiful blonde model in a short silver dress climbs onto the stage, her breasts bouncing with every step. The men in the audience immediately turn toward the stage, and the roar of conversation gets louder. She glances sideways at Evan, but he hasn't noticed the model.

There's a loud knock at the door, and a strange man in a black suit enters without waiting for Evan's permission. He carries a bottle of wine in his hand and presents it to Evan. Avery squints at the bottle—the wine is a pale yellow color, but there seems to be something floating in it. Her stomach twists. The thing in the bottle looks a lot like a human finger.

"Mr. Howel, this is the wine you asked for," the man says.

"Send it to Mr. Oliver," Evan orders.

Robert takes the bottle, and the fingerlike object bounces and shakes. Evan absently strokes Avery's fingers, but she pulls her hand away. She feels sick to her stomach, watching the bottle. Evan catches her, staring at the bottle, and he smirks.

"Do you want to know what's in the wine?" he asks, stroking her lips with his index finger.

"It looks like a finger," she says, jerking her head away.

Evan raises his eyebrows and asks, "Do you really think I'd be so boring?"

Avery looks at the bottle again and feels her face go red. The object looks a bit like a penis, she thinks. But would Evan really do something so childish and disgusting? She looks at him in horror, and he winks.