Forbiddenly Bound To You
Chapter 49: The Auctioned Moment

Chapter 49: The Auctioned Moment

Zamian leaned in and whispered softly into Mira’s ear, "It’s fine, I’m here," before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. The tender gesture sent warmth through Mira, unlike anything she had ever felt before. It was so profound that the person controlling the lights momentarily forgot their role, and the room dimmed briefly as if the moment between them commanded attention. When the lights returned, Mira’s cheeks were flushed pink, perfectly complementing her striking appearance.

As the event began, Zamian and Mira settled into their seats. Zamian was more focused on Mira than the proceedings, handing her a glass of grape juice while he sipped his own wine. Mira, having only recently been introduced to the world of high society, looked unsure when she saw the more sophisticated beverages like aqua, a type of premium alcohol. Zamian noticed her uncertainty and decided this wasn’t the moment for her to try it—perhaps a private setting would be more appropriate.

Mira’s attention soon shifted to the auction, where the bids were climbing rapidly. She couldn’t help but reflect on the stark contrast between the extravagant sums people were spending on art and the struggles of those who barely managed to afford a loaf of bread. Amidst her thoughts, a particular painting caught her eye. It was a striking piece that depicted a boy and a girl. The boy had his back turned, his gaze directed elsewhere, while the girl stared at him with a deep, almost melancholic intensity. The painting stirred something deep within Mira, evoking emotions she couldn’t quite put into words.

Zamian’s voice broke through her reverie. "Do you like it?" he asked, his tone gentle.

Mira nodded, her eyes still locked on the painting. As the auction continued, the bids escalated quickly. The auctioneer’s voice rang out, "Twenty thousand, going once, going twice..."

Just as the auctioneer was about to close the bid, Zamian’s voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd. Cold yet deep and velvety, it commanded attention. "One hundred thousand."

A collective gasp rose from the room. The painting was small, no larger than a typical frame, and yet Zamian’s bid was shockingly high. Mira’s eyes widened in astonishment. She turned to Zamian and whispered, "It’s okay."

Zamian leaned in closer, his voice soft but firm. "Shh, you’re my wife. Whatever you want, I’ll get for you."

Mira was left speechless, struggling to comprehend why Zamian would spend such an exorbitant amount on a painting, especially when she could barely afford a larger vase. Her mind raced to make sense of his lavish gesture and the extraordinary sum he had bid. It was a moment of sheer bewilderment, and she was still trying to process its significance.

Before she could fully grasp the situation, the auctioneer’s voice rang out again. "One hundred thousand, going once, going twice..."

Suddenly, a voice from behind called out, "Two hundred thousand," sending another wave of shock through the crowd. The surprise was palpable as everyone turned to see who had made the counteroffer. Before anyone could react or speculate further, Zamian’s voice resounded with even greater authority. "One million."

The room fell into stunned silence as the new bid sunk in. The shock was evident on the faces of everyone present; it was an amount that far surpassed anything anyone had anticipated. The auctioneer, momentarily at a loss for words, finally managed to speak. "One million... going once, going twice..."

The crowd’s reaction was a mix of awe and disbelief. Zamian’s bid had not only broken records but had also completely overshadowed any previous offers.

---

As the event neared its end, the air in the room shifted as guests began to mingle, making their final rounds of conversation. Zamian, however, had no intention of staying much longer. He stood up gracefully and held Mira’s hand, signaling that it was time to leave. "It’s time to go," he said in a calm, orderly tone.

The moment they rose, a small crowd began to form around Zamian. Not everyone dared to approach him—only those with some form of connection or enough courage to meet the imposing figure he presented. His reputation preceded him, and few were bold enough to seek his attention directly.

Among those who stepped forward was an elderly man accompanied by his daughter. The daughter, a striking woman with blonde hair, wore a flowing yellow gown that accentuated her figure. She was beautiful, there was no denying that, but Mira’s eyes remained fixed on Zamian, observing him quietly.

The old man extended his hand in greeting. "Good to see you, Mr. Zamian," he said, his voice filled with respect.

Zamian, however, did not return the gesture. He simply nodded, his expression indifferent. Mira, watching the exchange unfold, was taken aback by his refusal to shake hands, especially since the man appeared old enough to be her grandfather. It was a subtle but significant rejection, and Mira could see the discomfort flash across the old man’s face as he slowly withdrew his hand, understanding the unspoken dismissal.

Mira, ever perceptive, lightly tugged on Zamian’s suit, giving him a subtle signal. It was her way of encouraging him to respond more warmly, perhaps to avoid unnecessary tension. Zamian glanced down at her for a brief moment before extending his hand in return. The old man’s face lit up with relief as he shook Zamian’s hand, a smile spreading across his wrinkled features. His daughter, standing beside him, was visibly shocked by how effortlessly Mira had managed to influence Zamian with just a simple gesture.

"This is my daughter, Veronica," the old man introduced with a proud smile.

Veronica, who had been quiet until now, flashed a radiant smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Zamian," she said, her voice smooth and angelic.

But Zamian didn’t even bother to look at her. He offered only a curt nod in response, his attention fixed elsewhere, as though her presence barely registered. His indifference was palpable, and it clearly unsettled Veronica, who was not accustomed to being ignored—especially by someone of Zamian’s stature. She was one of the country’s most celebrated movie stars, used to admiration and attention wherever she went.

Mira, sensing the growing awkwardness, stepped forward with a warm smile. "This is my wife, Mira," Zamian said, finally breaking the silence as he introduced her. There was a subtle pride in his voice, a hint of possessiveness that didn’t go unnoticed.

Mira extended her hand toward the elderly man. "It’s a pleasure to meet you," she said softly, her smile genuine.

The old man, visibly charmed, shook her hand and returned the smile. "Your wife is one of a kind," he commented, his voice full of admiration.

Zamian’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, his deep voice carrying a note of sincerity as he replied, "I know. I am very aware of that." His words, though simple, sent a ripple through the small group gathered around them. It wasn’t often that Zamian spoke of his personal life, let alone with such openness.

His response seemed to surprise everyone within earshot, especially Veronica, who had been silently observing the exchange. She was taken aback not only by the unexpected warmth in Zamian’s voice but also by the fact that he had yet to spare her a single glance. It was as though she didn’t exist in his world, a world that revolved solely around Mira.

Struggling to regain her composure, Veronica finally spoke up, trying to redirect the conversation. "It’s really nice to see you, Miss Mira," she said with a polite smile.

Mira, ever gracious, corrected her gently.

"Mrs. Zamian."