Cassian's POV
His stare clung to me long after I stepped out of the auction hall, like a thorn lodged too deep beneath skin to pull out immediately.
He didn't seem as if he feared me or envied me; he looked as if he had known me for a while, which was quite strange because I couldn't place the face.
I didn't like the feeling of not knowing who probably knows me. I must find out who he was, and that's power.
The hallway outside the main auction floor was dim, lined with long red drapes that absorbed the dull yellow glow of the chandeliers.
My footsteps echoed low and deliberate as I walked, but my mind was moving faster, circling that man's face, replaying his expression, dissecting his silence, trying to place his face in the whole of Dalton.
He seemed dangerous and silent, but no one dared to challenge Cassian. He was marking a territory, imposing himself, drawing a line, by the single act of outbidding everyone just to acquire Luciana, and also attempting to compete with me.
