My father shoved me into a marble fountain at my sister’s wedding

We hadn't even reached the courtyard stairs when Richard Vance broke.

"Julian, you bastard!" Richard roared, shoving Penelope off his arm with such sudden violence that she stumbled into the wedding cake table, knocking over three tiers of sugar spun lilies and white fondant. "You lied to me! You told my father the Campbell facility was secured! We signed the pre-merger agreement this morning based on your word!"

"Richard, please!" Penelope sobbed, trying to hold onto his silk lapel with icing-smeared hands. "It’s my wedding day! Don't do this to me!"

"Get off me!" Richard snarled, shaking her off as if she were carrying the plague. "Your wedding day? Your family is bankrupt! We just underwrote thirty million dollars in secondary guarantees for Hudson Bay! If Campbell Capital pulls out, my father’s firm goes under with yours!"

Arthur Vance was already on his phone, screaming at his brokerage firm, completely ignoring the shocked stares of the two hundred guests who were now retreating toward the exits like passengers abandoning a sinking cruise liner.

The garden had become a war zone. Socialites were scrambling for their wraps, drivers were being summoned over the valet intercoms in frantic, panicked bursts, and the carefully curated illusion of the Sterling dynasty was evaporating into the summer heat.

Blake didn't look back. His hand remained firm against my waist, supporting my weight as we reached the gravel drive where a convoy of three black Maybachs sat idling, their headlights cutting through the descending mist.

A security detail opened the rear door of the center vehicle. Blake lifted me inside effortlessly, as if my wet frame weighed nothing at all. He slid in beside me, pulling the heavy door shut and sealing out the screaming, the crying, and the chaos of the garden.

The interior of the Maybach was an oasis of warmth, quiet leather, and soft ambient lighting. Blake immediately reached into the console and pulled out a heavy cashmere blanket, wrapping it around my legs before turning the climate control to maximum heat.

"Driver, home," Blake ordered smoothly.

"Wait," I murmured, my teeth chattering as the adrenaline finally began to drain from my bloodstream, leaving only exhaustion and cold behind. "Blake... your jacket. Your shirt. I ruined them."

Blake didn't look at his ruined tuxedo. He reached out with both hands, cupping my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. His thumbs stroked over my cheekbones, catching a stray drop of water that might have been a tear.

"I don't give a damn about a jacket, Claire," he said, his voice raw with an intensity he rarely showed to the outside world. "When I saw you in that water... when I saw him shove you..." He closed his eyes for half a second, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched beneath his skin. "I should have had my men take him to the ground."

"No," I whispered, leaning into his touch. "This is worse for him. A broken bone heals in six weeks. Losing Sterling Development will kill Julian Sterling slowly, every single day for the rest of his life."

Blake looked at me, a dark, dangerous pride flickering in his grey eyes. "You really tore the contract."

"You told me once that mercy to the merciless is just cruelty to yourself."

"I did," Blake smiled faintly, pressing his forehead against mine. "I just didn't expect you to look so magnificent while executing them."

My phone, sitting on the console between us, began to vibrate violently.

The cracked screen lit up with Julian’s name. Three seconds later, it stopped, only to be replaced by Penelope. Then my mother. Then an unknown number that was likely Arthur Vance.

Blake picked up the phone, held the power button until the screen went black, and tossed it into the cup holder.