Chapter 8 - The Aftermath
Within minutes, the greenhouse was swarming with armed guards and syndicate medics.
Marco was helped to his feet by two enforcers, a nasty purple bruise blooming along his jawline, while Dante was dragged away toward the basement holding cells, screaming obscenities into the night air.
I stood frozen near the banana trees, my hands shaking so violently I had to tuck them into the pockets of my sweatshirt to hide the tremor.
Vincent walked slowly down the aisle between the rows of orchids. His dark overcoat was unbuttoned, his white shirt collar slightly open, and his eyes were fixed entirely on me.
When he reached me, he stopped. Without a word, he reached out, grabbed my arm, and pulled me out of the greenhouse into the cool night air away from the ruined glass and blood.
He pushed me gently against the exterior stone wall of the mansion, boxing me in with both arms planted against the brick on either side of my head.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, his voice rough and uneven.
“No,” I whispered, looking up into his dark, intense eyes. “I’m... I’m fine.”
“You are remarkably stupid, Elena,” Vincent growled, though his chest was heaving with adrenaline. “I told you to stay in the east wing. I told you it wasn't safe to wander the grounds alone.”
“Someone left a note saying Dante was going to frame you!” I fired back, my own adrenaline finally spiking into anger. “I couldn't just sit in a fancy guest suite eating bonbons while my brother’s betrayer was plotting a coup against your entire empire!”
Vincent stared at me for a long, heavy moment. The anger in his eyes slowly melted away, replaced by something fierce, possessive, and terrifyingly tender.
“You stayed because you were worried about me?” he asked softly.
“I stayed because I’m not going to let anyone hurt the man who saved my idiot brother from a shallow grave,” I snapped, turning my face away so he couldn't see the blush creeping up my neck.
Vincent let out a low, breathy laugh. He reached up, his gloved fingers gently catching my chin and turning my face back to meet his gaze.
“Dante is locked away,” Vincent murmured, his face drawing closer inch by inch. “The port ledgers are secure. Your brother is safe in Wisconsin. And the plumbing in the east wing has been thoroughly inspected by three different professionals.”
I swallowed hard. “And what about us?”
Vincent’s lips brushed against mine—a soft, deliberate touch that sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to my toes.
May you like
“There is no us, Elena,” he whispered against my mouth, his arms wrapping tightly around my waist to pull me flush against his chest. “There is only you and me, defying every rule I ever wrote for myself.”
And as his lips met mine in a deep, fierce, unyielding kiss under the stormy Chicago sky, I realized I had finally found the one storm I had no desire to escape.
