His thumb pressed into my pulse.
Then the music stopped.
Adrian appeared behind him.
He delivered his quiet warning, and Grant’s hand fell away as though my skin had become fire.
Adrian moved between us.
Grant tried to recover his arrogance. “This is personal.”
“You assaulted my guest in my ballroom,” Adrian replied.
“We used to date.”
A muscle shifted in Adrian’s jaw.
“That does not give you ownership of her body.”
Grant glanced around, finally understanding that every person in the room was watching. Two security men stood near the doors. Neither wore visible weapons. Neither needed to.
“I didn’t assault anybody.”
My wrist was already turning red.
Adrian looked at it, then at Grant.
“You have ten seconds to leave.”
Grant laughed nervously. “Or what?”
“Or I stop being polite in front of witnesses.”
Grant’s face drained of color.
He backed away, knocking into a server. Champagne spilled across his sleeve, but he didn’t notice. He turned and hurried toward the exit.
Adrian waited until the doors closed.
Then he faced me, and the coldness vanished from his eyes.
“May I see your wrist?”
The question nearly broke me.
Not because I was hurt.
Because he asked.
I held out my hand. His fingers were warm and careful as he examined the marks.
“I’m all right,” I whispered.
“No, you’re trying to make everyone else comfortable.”
Tears burned my eyes.
“I don’t want to ruin the night.”
“You cannot ruin a room by bleeding in it.”
The tears fell before I could stop them.
Adrian guided me through a private corridor into a quiet library. He locked the door, found ice from the bar, and wrapped it in a linen napkin.
When he knelt in front of my chair, I stared at him.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
He placed the cold cloth against my wrist.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then Adrian said, “Grant Mercer did not come here because he missed you.”
My breath caught.
“What?”
Adrian reached into his jacket and placed a tiny black object on the table.
It was smaller than a button.
“Our security team found this beneath the lining of your evening bag.”
I stared at it.
“A listening device?”
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“I’ve never seen it before.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because I have watched you handle objects worth ten million dollars without leaving a fingerprint. You would not hide surveillance equipment this badly.”
I pulled my hand from the ice and stood.
“Grant put it there.”
“I believe so.”
“But why?”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“Vescari North Atlantic recently purchased a failing freight company in New Jersey. During the acquisition, we discovered hidden accounts connected to stolen art, customs fraud, and a criminal network operating through several East Coast ports.”
“And Kessler Row?”
“Grant’s firm was hired to inspect the purchase.”
The truth settled slowly.
“He knew you were investigating.”
“He knew enough to be frightened. He also knew you had access to me.”
I felt sick.
“He thought he could scare me into helping him.”
“Yes.”
The answer was gentle, but it humiliated me anyway.
Grant had remembered the woman who apologized whenever he hurt her.
He had expected her to still exist.
Adrian rose.
“I will have a car take you home. Security will remain outside your building.”
“No.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“I’m not going home.”
“Evelyn—”
“He used me because he thought I would fold. If I disappear now, he gets to believe he was right.”
“This is not about pride. People involved in this operation are dangerous.”
“So are you.”
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Adrian went very still.
I should have been afraid.
Instead, I lifted my chin.
“That’s what everyone says,” I continued. “They call you a mafia boss when they think you can’t hear them.”
“I hear them.”
“Is it true?”
The silence stretched between us.
“My father and grandfather built power through methods I will not defend,” he said at last. “I inherited their company, their enemies, and their reputation. I have spent fifteen years separating the first from the other two.”