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CHRISTIAN/ V
CHRISTIAN
I leaned against the balcony of my penthouse, a mug of hot coffee in hand, the golden liquid catching the ambient glow of the skyline.
My mind was still at the lake house—Scarlett’s laugh, the way she felt curled against me, the whispered promise in her eyes.
I told myself I’d give her space, let her settle back into her world before pulling her into mine again.
But then my phone rang.
Her name flashed on the screen, and instantly, my chest tightened.
Scarlett wasn’t the type to call without a reason.
I answered immediately. “Scarlett?”
There was a sharp inhale on the other end, like she wasn’t sure if she should’ve called at all.
“Christian… I—” She exhaled. “I need your help.”
I straightened, every nerve in my body on alert. “What happened?”
“My shipment. It was canceled.” Her voice was tight, controlled, but I could hear the frustration, the exhaustion. “We have a major event tomorrow, and without it?—”
I didn’t need her to finish. I already knew what was at stake.
Whoever cancelled her shipment, was that same person also responsible for that Luxe Dining article?
A slow, dangerous burn ignited in my chest. I clenched my jaw, forcing my voice to stay even. “Where are you now?”
“At Amélie. I just got here. I’m trying to figure out if I can source the ingredients elsewhere, but it’s—” She hesitated. “I don’t know if it’ll be enough.”
“Stay there. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Christian, you don’t have to?—”
“I’ll be there.” I ended the call before she could argue.
I barely remembered grabbing my keys or getting into my car, only that I was furious.
Not just at whoever had pulled this stunt, but at the fact that Scarlett had to deal with it alone.
When I arrived at Amélie, the place was nearly empty, save for Scarlett and her manager, Renée, who looked equally frazzled.
Scarlett had her arms crossed, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.
The moment she saw me, something in her expression softened, like she hadn’t realized how much she needed me until now.
I went straight to her. “Tell me everything,” I said.
She exhaled. “The supplier swears they got a notice from us to cancel the shipment. I didn’t send it. No one from my team did.”
Of course, they didn’t. This wasn’t just bad luck. It was sabotage.
I turned to Renée. “How much do we need?”