Chapter 3 - Velvet and Steel
The interior of the Maybach was warm, dead silent, and lined with supple black leather.
Lucian set Vivien down gently on the plush seat, stepping in beside her and shutting out the sound of Damian’s shouting and the pounding rain. The driver pulled away from the cathedral instantly, tires hummed against the wet pavement as the glowing lights of Saint Aurelia’s faded into the dark mirror of the city.
Vivien pulled Lucian’s coat tight around herself. It was huge on her, swallowing her ruined white dress completely, smelling richly of him. Her body began to shake violently—a delayed physical reaction to shock, cold, and betrayal.
Lucian pressed a button on the side panel. A hidden bar opened, presenting a glass bottle and a warm linen towel. He handed her the towel first.
“Dab your face,” he said quietly, pouring two fingers of amber liquid into a crystal tumbler. “Drink this.”
Vivien took the glass with trembling hands. “I don't drink scotch.”
“You do tonight,” Lucian said, his tone leave no room for debate.
She took a small sip. The liquor burned down her throat, settling in her stomach like a welcome fire. Her hands stopped shaking quite so violently.
“Where are you taking me?” Vivien asked, looking out the tinted window as the Miami skyline blurred past.
“To my estate on Star Island,” Lucian replied, leaning back in his seat, his long legs stretched out comfortable. “It is the only place in this county where neither your father nor Damian can reach you without bringing an army.”
“And what happens when they bring an army?” Vivien turned to look at him, her dark eyes sharp despite her smeared makeup. “My father controls the harbor police. Damian has half the city council in his pocket. They will declare me kidnapped.”
Lucian let out a low, amused sound. “Let them try. You walked down those steps on your own feet, Vivien. You took my hand. There were twenty witnesses, including three photographers from the Miami Herald who were hiding in the bushes.”
Vivien blinked. “Photographers?”
“I tipped them off forty minutes ago,” Lucian said, a dark glint in his eye. “By tomorrow morning, every newspaper from here to New York will feature a front-page photograph of Miami’s golden bride sitting in the rain while her groom was inside with her sister. The Mercer and Torres stock values will drop twenty percent before the market opens.”
Vivien stared at him, a realization hitting her like a cold splash of water. “You used me.”
“I gave you an exit,” Lucian corrected smoothly, leaning forward, his intense gaze locking onto hers. “You were going to drown on those steps, Vivien. I gave you a lifeline. What you do with the weapon I just handed you is entirely up to you.”
“A weapon?”
Lucian reached out, his gloved fingers gently catching the edge of the oversized diamond ring still sitting on her left hand. He pulled it off her finger without resistance and held it up to the faint light of the console.
“Damian bought this ring using an offshore credit line linked to his shell company in Grand Cayman,” Lucian said quietly. “A shell company whose tax documents you signed off on six months ago.”
May you like
Vivien’s breath caught in her throat. “How do you know about that?”
“Because I know you’re the smartest person in any room you enter,” Lucian whispered. “And I know that a woman who kept double ledgers to protect her father’s company certainly kept a ledger to protect herself from a liar like Damian.”
