Chapter 5 - Abduction in the Blizzard
At seven o'clock that evening, a team of celebrity stylists and dressmakers arrived at the estate under Cassian's watchful eye.
By eight, I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the master dressing room, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me.
The dress was a breathtaking masterpiece of emerald green silk that hugged my curves perfectly, falling in liquid folds to the floor with a subtle side slit. My dark hair was styled into soft, elegant waves cascading over my shoulders, and around my neck rested a vintage diamond necklace from the Hargrove family vault—a piece worth more than my entire neighborhood.
The dressing room door opened, and Adrian stepped inside.
He wore a custom black velvet tuxedo that broadened his shoulders and emphasized his commanding presence. His sling was gone, replaced by an invisible shoulder brace beneath his jacket.
He stopped in his tracks the moment he saw me. His gray eyes swept down my body, darkening with an intensity that sent a shiver straight down my spine.
"Breathtaking," Adrian rasped, walking over slowly until he stood right behind me. He placed his large, warm hands gently on my bare shoulders, his touch sending goosebumps over my skin. "You look like you were born to rule this city, Nora."
"I feel like an imposter," I admitted softly, meeting his gaze in the mirror.
"You are no imposter," Adrian whispered, leaning down to press a warm, tender kiss against the sensitive spot behind my ear. "You are the strongest woman I have ever met."
An hour later, our armored motorcade arrived at the historic Drake Hotel on Michigan Avenue. A fierce winter blizzard had swept in from Lake Michigan, dumping heavy snow over the city, but inside the grand ballroom, warmth, champagne, and diamond-draped elites filled the floor.
As Adrian walked into the room with my hand tucked securely into the crook of his arm, the room fell into instant, dead silence.
Every politician, judge, and CEO turned to look. They knew about the attack on the Hargrove estate. They knew Adrian was supposed to be wounded or dead. Seeing him standing tall, dominant, and accompanied by a striking, unknown woman sent a shockwave through the room.
Across the floor, standing near a towering champagne fountain, was Richard Thorne.
When Thorne saw Adrian, his face turned completely pale. The crystal glass in his hand trembled so violently champagne spilled over his fingers.
"Stay with Cassian," Adrian murmured softly to me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before stepping away toward a group of city council members.
I moved toward the quiet side balcony to keep an eye on Thorne. But before I could reach Cassian, the heavy velvet curtains near the service entrance rustled.
A sudden, sharp pain flared in my neck.
I gasped, reaching up to touch my collar. My fingers brushed against a tiny, metallic dart.
"Shh," a cold, harsh voice whispered in my ear from behind. "Don't scream, pretty lady."
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My vision exploded into spinning spots of light. My knees caved as a powerful paralytic rushed through my bloodstream. The scent of cheap tobacco and cold snow filled my senses as two large hands grabbed me under the arms, dragging my limp body back through the dark service exit into the howling blizzard outside.
My last conscious thought was of Adrian's gray eyes—and the absolute hell he was about to unleash on Chicago.
