Chapter 5 - COLLISION COURSE IN HIGH SOCIETY
The invitation to the Winter Solstice Gala was not a request; it was a mandate from the board of Cole Enterprises to show the world that their CEO was not entirely a hermit. And to everyone’s shock, Nathaniel demanded Elena accompany him, ostensibly as Lily’s caretaker, as he insisted on bringing the toddler to the early, family-friendly portion of the event to "soften his image."
"I am a housekeeper, Nathaniel," Elena argued, pacing the kitchen two nights before the event. "I don't belong at a gala at the Plaza Hotel."
"You are the only person who keeps me sane," Nathaniel countered smoothly, leaning against the marble island. "And I have already taken the liberty of having a dress sent to your room. Please, Elena. If I have to face the sharks on Wall Street, I need my anchor."
The word anchor made her breath hitch. The tension between them had grown to a palpable, electric heat over the past weeks. Stolen glances, brushed hands, late-night conversations over tea in the library. He was falling for her, and God help her, she was falling for him.
The night of the gala, Elena descended the grand staircase of the penthouse in a sweeping, midnight-blue gown that fit her perfectly. Nathaniel, waiting at the bottom in a razor-sharp tuxedo, literally stopped breathing.
"You look..." he started, unable to find the words. He offered his arm. "You look like you own the city."
The gala was a blur of flashing cameras, crystal chandeliers, and ruthless socialites. Nathaniel kept Elena close, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. Lily, dressed in a tiny velvet dress, charmed the ruthless executives, squeezing her one-eared rabbit and demanding they look at her shoes.
But the fairy tale was a fragile illusion.
Standing near the champagne fountain was Eleanor Cole—Nathaniel’s formidable mother. A woman whose heart was forged from pure titanium. She had been watching Elena all night with narrowed, calculating eyes.
When Nathaniel stepped away to take a call from Tokyo, Eleanor glided over to Elena like a predator scenting blood.
"Ms. Ramirez," Eleanor purred, her voice dripping with expensive malice. "You've done wonders with my son. I hired private investigators to look into you, naturally. I protect my family's assets."
Elena’s blood ran cold. "Excuse me?"
"You're a widow," Eleanor continued, sipping her champagne. "Marcus Ramirez. Died three years ago. I thought the name sounded vaguely familiar, so I had my people dig into the police archives."
Eleanor leaned in close, the scent of expensive perfume suddenly nauseating. "I know who your husband was, Elena. I know what he did to my daughter-in-law."
Elena felt the room spin. "It was an accident," she choked out. "The police said it was black ice. Marcus tried to save her—"
"I don't care what the police said!" Eleanor hissed, her mask of civility slipping. "My son's wife is dead because of your husband. And now you've infiltrated his home? Seduced him? You are a parasite. If you don't pack your bags and leave by tomorrow morning, I will hand Nathaniel the police file myself, and I will make sure you are ruined in this city."
May you like
Elena couldn't breathe. She looked across the room and saw Nathaniel smiling at her—a genuine, beautiful smile that belonged to a man who thought he was finally safe.
She turned and fled the ballroom.
