Chapter 2 - The Newport Arrival
The gates of the Tierney estate in Newport, Rhode Island, looked less like an entrance to a wedding and more like the perimeter of a medieval fortress. Towering wrought-iron pillars topped with stone griffins flanked a winding driveway lined by centuries-old weeping willows. Flawlessly manicured lawns rolled down toward the crashing gray waves of the Atlantic, dotted white with massive white marquees and valet stations staffed by men in matching navy uniforms.
When Christian’s matte-black armored Maybach glided past the security checkpoint, the guard didn’t even ask for an invitation. He took one look through the bulletproof tinted window at Christian’s profile, turned pale, and frantically waved the gate open with a bow that looked entirely involuntary.
Harper turned from her window, staring at Christian in disbelief as the car rolled smoothly up the crushed-stone driveway. "What did you do? Did you buy this estate on the way over?"
"Let's just say the Tierney family has a few business interests that occasionally intersect with my... logistics network," Christian replied casually, adjusting his platinum-and-onyx cufflink. He was wearing a bespoke charcoal suit that hugged his broad shoulders with terrifying elegance.
Harper looked down at her own dress—a emerald-green silk slip dress she had bought on credit, paired with a vintage velvet wrap. Compared to the sea of designer labels and diamond-encrusted gowns stepping out of luxury cars around them, she felt like an impostor.
As if sensing her sudden tension, Christian reached across the leather console and placed his heavy hand over hers. "Breathe, Harper. You belong in this room just as much as any of them. In fact, by the time we leave, they'll wish they never invited us."
The heavy doors of the grand Newport ballroom opened, spilling warm golden light and the strains of a live string quartet out onto the stone veranda. As Christian offered her his arm, Harper took a deep breath, hooked her elbow through his rock-solid forearm, and stepped out into the lions' den.
The transformation was immediate. The moment they stepped through the arched doorway, the ambient chatter of three hundred elite socialites seemed to stutter and drop. Heads turned. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wind through high grass.
Standing near the grand staircase, looking impossibly smug in a tailored Tom Ford tuxedo, was Carter Hayes. Beside him stood Madison Tierney, draped in millions of dollars of raw diamonds and silk tulle, looking like a porcelain doll designed exclusively to make other women feel inadequate.
Carter’s smile froze dead on his face as his eyes tracked down the length of the room and landed directly on Harper.
And then he saw the man walking beside her.
May you like
Carter’s jaw went slack. The glass of champagne in his hand tilted dangerously, a few drops spilling onto his polished patent-leather shoes. He knew who Christian was. Anyone who operated in the high-stakes corporate or underworld networks of the Northeast knew who Christian Thorne was. And seeing the most feared logistics tycoon in the country casually escorting his bitter, dumped ex-girlfriend into a Tierney family wedding was a nightmare Carter hadn't scriptwritten.
Christian didn't even look at Carter. He guided Harper with absolute ownership, his hand resting securely on the small of her back as they glided effortlessly toward the center of the room.
