CHAPTER 6

​The metallic click of the light switch resonated through the vault like a gunshot.

​Florescent light flooded the room, illuminating the rows of sleek safety boxes and polished steel. Vivian’s heart slammed violently against her ribs. Lucian’s chest was frozen against her back, his arm coiled around her like an iron band, his palm warm and steady over her lips. He didn't even breathe.

​Julien stood at the entrance, swaying slightly from the scotch, his phone still pressed to his ear.

​"Yeah, I'm in the vault now," Julien grumbled into the receiver, stepping closer to the central glass display. "I'm double-checking the courier manifest for the ruby necklace. The offshore buyer wants confirmation before the 8:00 AM wired transfer."

​He peered into the glass case.

​Because of the angle of the pillar, Julien’s body blocked his own direct view of the opened lock. But as he reached into his jacket for his reading glasses, a sharp electronic beep chimed from the hallway.

​"Mr. Thorne?" a security guard’s voice echoed down the corridor. "Sir, your primary line in the penthouse is ringing. It's legal counsel calling regarding the nine o'clock press briefing."

​Julien cursed under his breath, snapping his phone shut. "Tell them I'm coming up."

​He turned on his heel, slapping the light switch off, and hurried back toward the elevator without double-checking the display case. The heavy steel vault door slammed shut, the automatic locks engaging with a heavy, final thud.

​The moment the elevator chimed, signaling Julien's ascent, Lucian let out a slow, quiet exhale against Vivian's neck. He eased his hand off her mouth, though he didn't release his grip on her waist.

​"That," Lucian whispered, his lips brushing her hair in the dark, "was entirely too close."

​"We have to go," Vivian gasped, her fingers clutching the velvet box holding the rest of her mother's personal papers against her chest, while the heavy ruby necklace rested warm against her collarbones. "Before he realizes the necklace is gone."

​"Alexander," Lucian said into his comms. "We're moving to the service chute."

​"Elevator override complete," Alexander replied calmly. "The Maybach is idling at the south exit. You have three minutes before daybreak."

​6:30 AM — The Blackwood Penthouse

​The morning sun broke over the Manhattan skyline in brilliant shades of gold and pale crimson.

​Inside the master dressing suite, Vivian stood before a floor-to-ceiling mirror. Gone was the rain-soaked, exhausted woman who had been humiliated in Julien’s living room twelve hours ago.

​She wore a custom-tailored, emerald-green silk sheath dress that fell sharply to her knees, accentuating her narrow waist and long legs. Her dark hair was swept up into an elegant, timeless updo.

​And around her pale neck, gleaming brilliantly under the warm morning light, rested Eleanor Vance’s blood-red ruby necklace.

​The door opened softly behind her.

​Ethan stepped into the dressing room. He wore a razor-sharp, double-breasted charcoal suit, his broad shoulders filling out the silhouette with imposing authority. He stopped behind her, his dark eyes meeting hers in the reflection of the mirror.

​The contrast between them was striking—she was regal and refined, while he radiated power and dangerous protection.

​"You look breathtaking, Vivian," Ethan said, his deep voice carrying a quiet, reverent weight.

​He stepped closer, reaching into his inner pocket and pulling out a platinum fountain pen alongside a sleek leather document folder. He set them on the vanity beside her.

​"What's this?" Vivian asked, looking at the folder.

​"Your complete legal severance," Ethan said, his hands coming down to rest heavily on her shoulders. His touch was warm, possessive, and grounding. "Alexander spent the last three hours dismantling Julien’s corporate shield. The moment you step on that stage at nine o'clock, Julien won't just lose his open marriage rider. He will lose his entire claim to the Vance board."

​Vivian turned around to face him, looking up into his stormy eyes. "Why are you doing all of this, Ethan? After five years of hating me?"

​Ethan’s jaw tightened. He reached up, his thumb lightly stroking the side of her neck, just beneath the rubies.

​"I never hated you, Vivian," Ethan rasped, his voice dropping into a raw, intense confession. "I hated that you left. I hated that another man touched what was mine. But I could never hate you."

​He stepped closer, his chest pressing against hers, forcing her to look into the raw intensity of his gaze. "Today, you take your life back. And when the dust clears, you and I are going to have a long conversation about what happened five years ago."

​Before she could answer, Alexander tapped twice on the doorframe. "It's 8:15 AM. Midtown Financial Center is packed with press. Julien is already on stage waiting for his nine o'clock start."

​Ethan took Vivian’s hand, his broad fingers locking firmly with hers.

​"Let's go ruin his morning."