Chapter 192
No.1
The following evening, the Manhattan skyline was a grid of glittering lights against the freezing black sky.
A massive, armoredblack Maybach rolled smoothly down the street and came to a silent halt at the red carpet outside Le Bernardin.
The driver jumped out and pulled the rear door open. Alastair Cromwell stepped onto the pavement. He wore a bespoke, midnight-blue suit that emphasized his broad shoulders. He turned and offered his hand.
Elisa stepped out of the car. She was not wearing her shapeless blue hospital scrubs. She wore a deep burgundy silk gown that clung to her figure,covered by a sharp, tailored black cashmere coat.Her dark hair was swept back, exposing the cold,striking lines of her face. She looked lethal.
Jewel stepped out from the other side,holding the hand of Kayden, who was bundled up in a chic,miniature French trench coat.
The four of them walked toward the heavy glass doors of the restaurant, looking like a flawless,untouchable portrait of upper-class power.
Before Alastair could reach the brass handle,the maître d'-a usually unflappable French man who always bowed to Alastair-rushed out the door. His
No.2
face was pale and slick with nervous sweat.He physically blocked their path.
"Mr. Cromwell, Ms. Wilder," the maître d 'stammered,bowing deeply. "I am so profoundly sorry. We cannot accommodate your party tonight."
Alastair's brow snapped together. He stepped forward,his broad shoulders instantly dominating the space. "Excuse me? I booked this reservation last night directly through the restaurant's owner."
The maître d' wrung his hands together. "I know,sir.But an hour ago, a top-tier VIP utilized an emergency capital override. He paid ten times the cancellation penalty for every reservation. The entire main dining room and all private suites have been bought out."
Alastair's eyes went dead. The muscles in his jaw flexed. He reached into his jacket pocket for his phone, preparing to call the real estate conglomerate that owned the building and have the manager fired on the spot.
Elisa reached out and wrapped her cold fingers around Alastair's wrist, stopping him.
She didn't look at the maître d'. Her eyes bypassed the man,staring straight through the massive, floor -to-ceiling glass windows of the restaurant.
No.3
In the exact center of the empty, sprawling dining room sat a single table. It was completely buried under hundreds of imported Ecuadorian white roses.
Elisa's pupils contracted into tiny black pinpricks. A cold,bitter laugh clawed its way up her throat. She knew exactly whose capital could force a Michelin -star restaurant to clear its floors in an hour.
A sudden, deafening roar of high-performance engines shattered the quiet street.
Three exotic sports cars, their license plates bearing the distinct markers of the Chambers private fleet, violently swerved to the curb right behind Alastair's Maybach.
Elisa's survival instincts triggered instantly.
She dropped to a crouch, scooped Kayden up into her arms, and shoved the little girl's face deep into the collar of her black cashmere coat. A flash of pure terror, hot and primal, pierced the icy mask of Faye. It was the mother, not the architect, who was now in control. She shot Jewel a look of absolute,terrifying urgency.
Jewel didn't ask questions. She immediately stepped to Elisa's left, using her body to block the view from the street. Alastair, sensing the sudden shift in the air, stepped to Elisa's right, his broad shoulders creating a solid wall of custom wool.
No.4
The three of them moved swiftly backward,stepping into the heavy, dark shadow of a decorative Roman pillar near the restaurant's entrance. They were completely concealed from the curb.
The door of the lead car, a matte-black Aston Martin,swung open.
August Chambers stepped out into the cold air.He wore an iron-gray suit. His face was a mask of cold,unapproachable arrogance. He radiated a dark,suffocating energy that made the valet attendants step back in fear.
The door of the second car opened. Allena stepped out.
She wore a loud, ostentatious white lace gown that dragged on the wet pavement. A diamond-studded mesh veil covered the upper half of her face,hiding the bandages from her fake fall.She walked up to August and immediately looped her arm through his, pressing her chest against his bicep.①
"It is freezing, August," Allena whined, her high-pitched voice grating against the crisp night air.
August's jaw tightened slightly at hertouch,but he did not push her away. He let her cling to him.
No.5
Cyprian and Devon climbed out of the third car,laughing loudly. They flanked the couple, loudly praising August for dropping a fortune just to give his girl a private dinner.
Hidden in the shadows of the pillar, Elisa's stomach violently heaved. A wave of pure, physiological nausea washed over her.
This was August's "low-profile" crisis management.While his stock was bleeding and his mistress was facing federal perjury investigations, he was buying out Michelin-star restaurants to put on a grotesque,public display of affection.
The group walked past the pillar, completely oblivious. The maître d' practically fell over himself opening the doors, ushering them toward the table drowning in white roses.
Elisa waited until the heavy glass doors closed and the group was deep inside the restaurant.
She let out a long, shaky breath and slowly lowered Kayden back to the pavement.
Kayden looked up. The little girl could feel the frantic, hammering heartbeat in her mother's chest.Kayden reached out and wrapped her small fingers around Elisa's freezing hand.
No.6
"Maman," Kayden whispered in flawless French,her ice-blue eyes looking toward the restaurant."Who is that bad man?"3
A sharp,jagged pain tore through Elisa's chest. She crouched down again, looking directly into the eyes that were a perfect mirror of the man sitting inside.
"He is a piece of garbage that means absolutely nothing to us, baby," Elisa said, her voice fiercely steady. "We never have to look at him again."
Alastair looked through the glass at the pathetic display inside. His upper lip curled in pure disgust.He turned to Elisa. "I will have my pilot prep the jet.We can have dinner in Paris by morning."
Elisa stood up. She smoothed the front of her cashmere coat. The panic was gone, replaced by a sheet of solid ice.
"No,Alastair," Elisa said, her voice completely flat.
"If someone wants to spend a fortune to play the clown, let them. We are not wasting our time here."
No.7
She took Kayden's hand. She turned her back on the restaurant and began walking toward the Maybach, her movements sharp and entirely devoid of hesitation.
Inside the restaurant, August sat down at the head of the table. He picked up his crystal water glass.
For absolutely no logical reason, a strange, heavy pressure suddenly bloomed in the center of his chest. It felt like a physical pull.
August stopped. He slowly turned his head, looking past Allena, past the white roses, and stared straight out the massive glass window toward the dark street.