Julian stared at the massive, terrifying man holding his former fiancé. For a second, he looked like he might actually argue. He opened his mouth, his eyes darting frantically to the reporters, trying to find a camera that would sympathize with him.
But Alexander Cross didn't negotiate. He simply stared back, his dark eyes entirely devoid of humanity.
Julian broke.
He scrambled backward, nearly tripping over the microphone cord, and bolted off the side of the stage. The murmurs in the crowd instantly escalated into a roar of mockery. The golden boy of the city had just tucked his tail between his legs and run.
"Julian! Wait!" Chloe shrieked.
She hiked up her pale pink gown, trying to follow him down the steps. But Julian, realizing that being attached to Elara's sister was only going to make him a bigger target, violently yanked his arm out of her grasp.
"Get off me!" Julian hissed, loud enough for the front row to hear. "This is your fault! If you hadn't been so needy, I wouldn't have been distracted at the office!"
Chloe stumbled, her face draining of color. The perfect, innocent mask she wore 24/7 shattered into pieces. "My fault? You were the one who promised me her shares! You said she was too stupid to notice!"
The reporters practically salivated, cameras flashing at lightning speed. The "perfect couple" was cannibalizing each other on live television.
Elara watched them from the center of the stage. In her past life, these two had held hands and smiled as she bled to death. Now, at the first sign of trouble, they were tearing each other's throats out. It was pathetic. It was beautiful.
"Enough," Alexander's deep voice rumbled beside her, cutting through the noise.
He didn't raise his voice, but the sheer command in his tone made Chloe freeze in her tracks. She looked up at Alexander, her eyes widening in absolute terror.
"Liam," Alexander ordered, not even bothering to look at Chloe. "Clear the trash. They are ruining the view."
"Yes, Boss." Liam stepped out of the shadows with two massive security guards. They didn't ask Chloe to leave; they simply grabbed her by the arms and dragged her toward the service exit. Her shrieks echoed through the ballroom until the heavy doors slammed shut.
The stage was finally clear. The ballroom was completely silent again, every eye fixed on the terrifying couple bathed in the spotlight.
Alexander turned to the crowd. He didn't offer an explanation. He didn't offer a speech. He simply looked at the sea of terrified investors and reporters.
"The Vance Corporation is now under the protection of the Cross Holding Group," Alexander stated coldly. "My wife is the sole authority. Anyone who attempts to undermine her, question her, or steal from her will answer directly to me. Enjoy the champagne."
Without waiting for a response, he placed his hand on the small of Elara's back and guided her off the stage.
They walked back down the red carpet. No one dared to shove a microphone in their faces. No one dared to breathe. They simply parted, bowing their heads as the new king and queen of the city walked out into the cool night air.
The moment the heavy door of the armored Maybach clicked shut, the partition separating them from the driver slid up, sealing them in total privacy.
Elara let out a breath she felt like she had been holding for three years. Her hands were shaking. The adrenaline was finally crashing, leaving her dizzy and overwhelmed. She had done it. She had completely obliterated them.
"Breathe, little bird," Alexander murmured.
Elara turned to him. The dim streetlights filtering through the tinted windows cast harsh, beautiful shadows across his sharp jawline. He was watching her intently, a predatory heat smoldering in his dark eyes.
"Thank you," Elara whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "For backing me up. For... the necklace. For everything."
"I didn't do it for charity," Alexander replied smoothly.
He reached out, his large hands gripping her waist. With one effortless pull, he dragged her across the plush leather seat and firmly onto his lap.
Elara gasped, her hands flying up to rest on his broad shoulders to steady herself. The forty-million-dollar ruby at her throat swung wildly, brushing against his crisp tuxedo shirt. She could feel the hard, solid muscle beneath the fabric, the intense heat of his body burning through her velvet dress.
"You used my name tonight to execute your enemies," Alexander said, his voice dropping to a husky, dangerous register. One of his hands slid up her spine, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck. "You painted a target on your back and claimed you belonged to me in front of the entire city."
"I... I did," Elara breathed, unable to look away from his intense gaze.
"Then it's time you start acting like it," he growled softly.
He didn't give her a chance to reply. Alexander's hand tightened in her hair, tilting her head back, and his mouth crashed down onto hers.
This kiss was entirely different from the one by the window. That one had been a warning; this one was possession. His lips parted hers with demanding, punishing heat, his tongue sweeping into her mouth to claim every inch of her.
Elara whimpered, a sound completely entirely foreign to her, and her fingers curled tightly into his jacket. The sheer, overwhelming dominance of the man short-circuited her brain. Every thought of Julian, of revenge, of the company, evaporated into thin air. There was only Alexander, his scent, his taste, and the burning trail his other hand left as it slid up her bare thigh, pushing the velvet slit of her dress higher.
When he finally pulled back to let her breathe, his dark eyes were blown wide with raw, unfiltered desire.
"The games are over, Elara," Alexander whispered roughly against her swollen lips. "You got your revenge. Tomorrow, I'm collecting my payment."