Chapter 8 - The Weight of an Empire
By mid-afternoon, the guest wing of the Vance estate looked like an exclusive boutique from the Magnificent Mile.
Three personal stylists and two tailors scurried around the room under Martha’s watchful eye, carrying racks of designer gowns, cashmere coats, and hand-embroidered baby outfits.
Lena sat in an armchair, watching the chaos with wide eyes while nursing a cup of chamomile tea. Nora was sitting on a plush sheepskin rug at her feet, happily playing with a handcrafted wooden rattle shaped like a bear.
"Mr. Vance requested emerald green for you, ma'am," one of the stylists said, reverently displaying a silk-chiffon evening gown with long lace sleeves and an open back. "It complements your dark hair and olive skin perfectly."
"I don't need a gown," Lena protested for the fourth time. "I don't even know why he's taking me to a gala. I'm a waitress! I don't belong in ballrooms with governors and billionaires."
The bedroom door opened, and Julian walked in. He had changed into a tailored charcoal suit that made his broad shoulders look even more intimidating. The stylists immediately bowed their heads and backed away into the adjacent dressing room.
Julian walked over to Nora, crouching down on one knee. The little girl immediately recognized him, letting out an excited squeal and offering him the wooden rattle. Julian took it, his scarred lips curving into a genuine smile.
May you like
"She likes you," Lena noted softly, unable to suppress a faint smile of her own.
"She has good taste," Julian replied
