Chapter 4 - SHADOWS AND SILK
I spent four hours digging a 9mm bullet out of Marcus’s liver, suturing the damage with hands that miraculously didn't shake. Vincent stood in the corner the entire time, an imposing shadow watching my every move. When I finally stripped off my bloody gloves, exhausted but triumphant, the sun was beginning to rise.
“He’ll live,” I breathed, leaning against the cold metal counter.
Vincent stepped forward, handing me a damp, warm towel. He didn’t say a word as he gently wiped a streak of Marcus’s blood from my forehead. The intimacy of the gesture made my breath hitch.
“You saved another one of my men,” Vincent said quietly.
“It’s my job.”
“No,” he corrected, his hand lingering against my cheek. “It’s your nature. You bring life to places where there is only death.”
The tension between us had shifted, thickening into something dangerous. But the outside world refused to leave us alone. Two days later, Vincent insisted I attend a charity gala with him. It was my first time in public since the fire. I wore a high-necked, long-sleeved emerald gown that concealed my bandages, but my scarred face was fully exposed.
As we walked into the grand ballroom of the Drake Hotel, the whispers started immediately. I felt the familiar urge to shrink, to hide. But Vincent’s hand rested firmly on the small of my back, anchoring me.
“Keep your head up,” he murmured in my ear. “You are the most powerful woman in this room.”
I believed him. Until I saw Trevor.
He was standing near the champagne fountain, laughing with the same blonde woman he had left me for. He looked healthy, vibrant, and completely unbothered by the fact that he had destroyed my life. When his eyes caught mine, the color drained from his face.
Trevor took a step back, recognizing Vincent Calder instantly. Everyone in Chicago knew who Vincent was, and everyone knew you didn't cross him. Trevor’s gaze flicked from Vincent’s possessive grip on my waist to my face, his expression a mix of terror and absolute confusion.
Vincent felt my heart rate spike. He followed my line of sight and smiled—a cold, terrifying smile that promised violence. “Is that him?” Vincent whispered.
May you like
I nodded, my throat dry.
“Good,” Vincent said smoothly. “Let’s go say hello.”
