Chapter 2 - The Arrival at Magnolia House
By eleven-thirty, my sleek black sports car was navigating the cobblestone streets toward Magnolia House, one of the most exclusive historical dining estates in downtown Charleston. Nora sat in the passenger seat, smoothing her dress for the fifth time in ten minutes.
"You're going to wrinkle the fabric if you keep doing that," I said quietly, keeping one hand on the wheel.
"I'm nervous," she admitted, staring out the window at the moss-draped live oaks. "My mother has the observational skills of a CIA analyst and the subtlety of a sledgehammer."
"Good thing I don't scare easily," I replied. "What's the signal if you want to leave early?"
Nora turned to look at me. "I double-tap my index finger on your arm."
"Understood. And what's the signal if Miles tries to touch you?"
"Why would you need a signal for that?"
"So I know whether to step in smoothly or make him regret existing," I said casually, turning into the valet circle of the estate.
Nora gasped slightly, scanning my face for a joke, but the sheer, dark authority underlying my tone held no humor. A flicker of something dangerous and thrilling passed through her eyes before she quickly composed herself.
Valets rushed to open our doors. I stepped out, adjusted the cuffs of my tailored suit, and walked around to take Nora’s hand. The moment her fingers brushed mine, a small shiver ran down her arm.
"Breathe, Nora," I murmured, leaning down so my lips brushed near her ear. "You paid a thousand dollars for a boyfriend. Let him do the heavy lifting."
The private dining room at Magnolia House was a grand display of old Charleston wealth: floor-to-ceiling windows, crystal chandeliers, and a long table draped in ivory linen. Around thirty people were already mingling with champagne flutes in hand.
The moment we walked in, the room's noise level dipped.
A sharp-featured woman in a navy silk dress immediately turned from her conversation. Diane Bennett scanned us with a gaze that could strip paint. Beside her stood a man in his early thirties wearing a pristine linen blazer—Miles Harper.
"Nora!" Diane stepped forward, her eyes instantly dropping to our joined hands. "You're late. And... who is this?"
Nora took a small, steadying breath. "Mom, this is Evan. Evan Cole."
I felt the sudden, collective freeze in the room. Miles’s smile faltered instantly. A few of the older businessmen in the corner near the bar turned around so fast one of them nearly spilled his drink.
In Charleston financial circles, my name wasn't just known; it was handled with extreme caution. Cole Development owned half the waterfront commercial space, but those with real power knew I controlled much more.
"Evan... Cole?" Diane repeated, her calculated demeanor wavering for a fraction of a second. "The... developer?"
"It's a pleasure, Mrs. Bennett," I said, my voice smooth, deep, and unbothered. I extended a hand. She took it automatically, clearly caught off guard. "Nora has told me so much about you."
Miles stepped into the circle, offering an overly practiced, assertive handshake. "Miles Harper. I manage Harper Capital."
I took his hand, applying just enough firm pressure to let him know exactly where he stood in the food chain. Miles’s jaw tightened.
"I didn't realize Nora was seeing anyone," Miles said, his eyes narrowing at Nora. "She never mentioned you."
"We prefer to keep our private lives private," I replied easily, resting my hand comfortably at the small of Nora’s back. I felt her tense for a microsecond before leaning subtly into my touch. "At least until things become serious."
Before Miles could respond, an elderly woman in an elegant lavender suit moved through the crowd, holding a champagne glass like a queen holding a scepter.
"Oh, stop suffocating the poor girl, Diane," the grandmother declared, her sharp gray eyes sweeping over me with immediate approval. "Nora, darling, bring your handsome man over here before your mother tries to interview him for a tax audit."
Nora let out a visible breath of relief. "Happy birthday, Grandma."
May you like
As we walked over, Nora whispered under her breath, "That went remarkably well."
"Don't celebrate yet," I murmured back, watching Miles whisper something urgently to Diane across the room. "The claws are coming out."
