Chapter 4 - The Black Maybach
The cathedral steps were slick with autumn rain. Outside, a flock of society photographers and gossip journalists waited under black umbrellas, expecting the glowing Sterling bride and groom.
Instead, the bronze double doors banged open to reveal Nadine Ward—veil-less, alone, and flanked by Roman Thorne.
Flashbulbs detonated like a storm of lightning. Shouts erupted through the drizzle:
"Miss Ward! Where is Mr. Sterling?"
"Is the ceremony over?"
"Mr. Thorne, what is your involvement?"
Before a single raindrop could touch Nadine’s bare shoulders, Roman shrugged off his heavy cashmere overcoat and draped it over her. It was warm, carrying the faint, intoxicating scent of cedarwood, expensive bourbon, and steel. The sheer weight of it enveloped her, covering the exposed bodice of her dress and shielding her from the predatory lenses of the paparazzi.
"Head down, chin up," Roman murmured close to her ear, his large hand resting firmly at the small of her back. "Don't give them a single tear."
"I don't have tears for him," Nadine replied, her voice firm despite the chill wind whipping her curls.
At the curb sat an armored, matte-black Maybach with tinted bulletproof glass. The chauffeur held the rear door open. Roman guided her inside with seamless precision, stepping in after her before the door slammed shut, severing the roaring chaos of the media with absolute silence.
Inside, the cabin was a cocoon of heated leather and polished walnut. Nadine sank into the plush seat, the adrenaline that had carried her down the aisle suddenly crashing down. Her hands began to tremble.
Roman didn't speak. He reached into the console, pulled out a crystal tumbler, poured two fingers of amber whiskey, and pressed the glass into her shaking fingers.
"Drink it," he said softly.
Nadine took a sip. The liquid burned her throat, searing through the shock and warming her chest. "Why did you do that?" she asked, staring at the amber glass. "You don't know me. You don't owe Grant anything—in fact, you just made an enemy out of the Sterling Group."
Roman leaned back, unbuttoning his vest with fluid ease. His gaze lingered on her face, tracing the soft fullness of her lips and the fierce intelligence burning behind her hazel eyes.
"Grant Sterling is a parasite who mistakes his father’s trust fund for power," Roman said evenly. "He doesn't have the teeth to be my enemy. And as for you, Miss Ward... I know far more about you than you think."
Nadine frowned, turning to him. "What does that mean?"
May you like
Roman pulled a slim leather folder from the side pocket and laid it across his lap. "Your father didn't borrow twenty million from Sterling’s bank, Nadine. Sterling bought the secondary notes from a loan shark to force your hand. But this morning at eight a.m., those notes changed hands again."
***
