Page 31

The drapes fall shut, and her body stills as she registers my words. I know the exact moment when she recognizes it’s me behind her. Her breath hitches and her muscles relax before she turns around and stares at me.

“Charles?” she whispers, clearly in shock.

My voice deserts me when I take in her face under the pale moonlight streaming in from the arched window. Her large eyes are guileless at the moment, charcoal pools I want to dive into and never resurface. Her perfect lips, painted in the color of her favorite burgundy roses, are now parted.

She dips her tongue out and heat rushes to my groin. My eyes greedily absorb the sight, roving from her midnight hair piled high, a few strands teasing those creamy shoulders, to her delectable body clad in a stunning gold dress that makes me want to kneel and worship at her feet.

Then there’s the sweet, intoxicating scent of vanilla swirling in the air, making my mouth water.

My breathing quickens and my hands tighten around her waist, my fingers digging into the thin fabric. I can feel the heat of her body and I’m sure if I trail my fingers up to her neck, I’ll find the rapid fluttering of her pulse.

“Charles? What are you doing here?”

Her question draws me out of the sensual haze, and I quickly remember why I’m in here, hiding under the cloak of darkness with her. The black envelope in my pocket digs into my skin, reminding me of the unpleasant conversation I had in the ballroom ten minutes ago.

An older man with dark hair and piercing eyes approached me when I was taking a break from socializing. “Monsieur Vaughn, finally get to meet you in person.”

I stiffened as he guided me to a darkened corner of the room, away from prying eyes. “You have me at a disadvantage.”

“Laurent Archambeau, chief of police of this beautiful city.”

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” There was something in his voice that was unsettling. I’d heard of him before—it took a certain ruthless personality and reputation to rule one of the major hubs in Europe with an iron fist.

He arched his brow and held my gaze for a few seconds, as if assessing something. Apparently, I passed muster because he murmured, “I was told to give you this.”

He retrieved a black envelope from his tux and handed it over. On it were two words in gilded, cursive text. The Association .

Grandma’s words and Maxwell’s comments whispered back into my mind and the hairs on my forearms prickled to attention.

“What’s this?” I asked, even though there was a sinking sensation in my chest.

“An invitation. You want to take Bank of Columbia to greater heights or cleanse your hands from the pesky public image problem your former CFO has handed you or perhaps make sure that certain CFO doesn’t talk anymore? All you need to do is ask. But of course, nothing comes for free.” With a secretive smile, he tipped his head and walked away.

I opened the envelope and found a simple black business card inside with a single phone number.

Something told me the price of this favor would be too hefty to pay. The warning bells in my gut blared loudly—if there was one thing I prided myself on, it was listening to my intuition.

What do they want with me? Theories ran through my head as I stared at the crisp card, feeling its ominous weight. Minutes later, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Archambeau following Maddy, with my fiery minx trailing after them, looking all too suspicious.

Taylor growls and shoves me deeper into the alcove, trying to make a break for it again. I hold her tighter against my chest. “Shhh. I’m saving you from yourself.”

Taylor stiffens, her eyes now flashing with ire. “What the fuck are you talking about? I need to save Maddy. These men are hurting her! I need to—” Her voice rises in volume. Fear rips through me. If Archambeau is part of The Association, then he’s dangerous.

I can’t let him know Taylor is here and eavesdropping.

I quickly clamp my hand over her mouth again and she mumbles her complaints into my palm.

“Hear me out. If I let go, will you be quiet, please?”

She struggles in my hold, and I bite back a growl of frustration.

“Please. Please, Taylor. Just listen to me.” I heave out a big breath. Please let me protect you.

She stills, her eyes scanning my face before she slowly nods.

I take my hand away and murmur in her ear, “That man in there, the one with the louder voice. That’s Laurent Archambeau, the chief of police. He’s a very powerful man in the city and he’s dangerous, involved in some shady business we definitely don’t want to take part in. You do not want to cross him. The other guy I didn’t see, so I don’t know who he is. But he’s probably someone important as well.”

Her eyes widen before they narrow at me. She shakes her head. “I don’t care who the fuck they are. Maddy is crying. I heard a slap.”

“Did you see them hurt her? Because accusing the chief of police on his home turf carries severe ramifications. Not to mention, the man is dangerous. I don’t want him to have you in his sights.”

Taylor’s eyes widen in horror, then she swallows, her breath rickety. “I…I-I didn’t see…but I heard it, I swear!”

“Look at what I’m seeing right now.” I pull open the drapes slightly and let her peer through.

Maddy is smiling as another girl greets her in the room and the two of them leave, arm in arm. Her complexion appears clear, no reddened cheeks to indicate she was slapped. The two men stay behind, whispering furtively to each other.

Taylor stiffens, and I can almost see the dark cloud hovering over her head. She turns around, a deep frown on her face. “I swear I heard it. Something is wrong, Charles. This doesn’t add up.”

Gently, I place my hands on her forearms, my fingers tingling from the contact. “I believe you, Taylor. I really do. But I want to protect you too.”

She stills, her eyes wide and searching mine. Her breathing slowly evens out and I take it as a sign to continue. “If you charge out there and throw out accusations when you have no proof and you didn’t see anything, you’ll definitely be on Archambeau’s radar. I don’t want to think what problems that’ll cause, especially when you have a few more shows in the city. What if—”

Taylor scowls, her nostrils flaring. “Of course, this is about the damn shows to you. My God, why did I think you’d be different? Why am I so stupid ? Of course you don’t care about Maddy, the poor scholarship student. You only care about lining your pockets and your precious company. You—” She raises her hands, her face flushing.

Before she shoves me again, I catch her wrist in a tight clasp. This woman drives me mad.

This is why emotions terrify me. They make you lose your sanity.

But I know she’s so used to being alone, of protecting herself. She’s probably doing this as an automatic reaction.

“Calm down, Taylor. That’s not what I’m saying at all. Stop twisting my words.” I close my eyes and exhale because in this moment, I just want to shake her to get her to understand the ramifications. “I’m only suggesting you ask Maddy what happened. She’s safe right now. She’s not in the room with these two men. That’s what you’re worried about, right? It makes no sense for you to burn your bridges on the most important tour of your life and get in the crosshairs of someone dangerous and powerful in the city.”

Her chest heaves, her eyes wild, but she slowly deflates as my words take root.

“Ask Maddy,” I whisper, still aware of the two men in the room, “and if they did something to her, I promise you, I won’t let that go. I’ll do whatever it takes to dole out the punishment they deserve.”

Taylor still doesn’t speak, her gaze snared on mine. Her breathing is loud as her lips tremble. She shakes her head, strings of nonsensical words slipping from her mouth. “I can’t let them… No, she has her future ahead of her. Maybe I’m looking at her and s-seeing my—” She swallows, not finishing her sentence, but she doesn’t need to.

Herself. She was seeing herself before her trauma in Maddy. The grief and anguish in her voice are unmistakable.

Tears slowly well in her eyes and the same ache I felt when I saw her look at Grace at the wedding comes back tenfold. Desperation burns through me and every muscle in my body tightens. The sight of her splitting at the seams is unbearable. The pain she’s holding in, a dark well I assume runs very deep, is overflowing, and I’d do anything in my power to stop it.

“I promise you, Taylor. You aren’t alone in this.” Not anymore.

Tremors appear in her body, her breathing ragged and tortured. She’s staring at me with those beautiful, watery dark eyes, like she’s imploring me to save her.

She clutches my arms tightly, fingers digging into my sleeves, and her face crumbles.

A lone tear slips down her cheeks. Followed by another, and another.

My heart lodges in my throat as pain stabs me in the chest.

The sight of her tears unmoors me.

I want to destroy whoever caused her this unspeakable agony. Whoever flayed this warrior with their weapons and left her with permanent scars.

I hear the faint sounds of the men leaving the room, but I don’t care, because the woman in my arms is unraveling. Deep sobs wrench from her throat as more tears slip out, the liquid melting the liner from her eyes into rivulets of black.

Rivers of darkness streaking down the pale ivory of her skin.

“You’re not alone,” I say again, my voice rough. Unable to help myself, I hold her trembling frame tightly in my arms, wishing I could take an ounce of her pain away.

I’d do anything to make her happy again.

Anything to hear her snarky comments and to see the fire in her eyes.

Anything to turn back time and prevent the bastard from hurting her.

Her sobbing soon slows, her tears no doubt making a mess of my tux, but I don’t care.

Slowly, she lifts her face away from my chest, her face a painting of black against white—of her grief against her strength.

“I must look like shit,” she whispers, the wispy moonlight lovingly caressing her face.

“Never,” I rasp, my heart pounding out of my chest. My thumb lightly grazes her cheek, swiping away at the evidence of her pain. “You’re breathtakingly beautiful.”

Taylor’s breath hitches, her lips parting. She looks astonished, like she can’t believe I think she’s beautiful.

“Roses are much more beautiful with thorns,” I murmur, emotion clogging my voice.

She inhales another sharp breath, her nostrils flaring, and a second later, she pulls my head down and crushes her lips against mine.