Chapter 7 - The Provenance of Love and the Boardroom Ambush
The grand drawing room fell into a suffocating, razor-sharp silence.
The crackle of the birch logs in the marble fireplace was the only sound in the
cavernous room. Outside the leaded glass windows, the morning mist hung heavy
over the Lake Forest grounds.
Lady Eleanor Saint-Claire slowly turned her piercing gray eyes from Julian Cross
to Enzo, her ebony cane clicking against the parquet floor with ominous
authority.
"Well, Mr. Romano?" Lady Eleanor asked, her voice dry as parchment. "Is Mr.
Cross speaking the truth? Has the proud Romano dynasty stooped to hiring an
actress to secure our maritime holdings?"
Enzo didn't blink. He didn't tense.
He slowly reached out, took my left hand in his, and brought my knuckles to his
lips, kissing the Harry Winston diamond with deliberate, unhurried reverence.
"Julian Cross is a desperate man whose family firm is facing bankruptcy, Lady
Eleanor," Enzo said smoothly, his deep baritone dripping with effortless
condescension. "When Natalie realized he was laundering company funds through
shell accounts six months ago, she severed all ties with him. Mr. Cross has been
stalking my fiancée ever since, attempting to extort her for operating capital."
Julian’s face turned crimson. "That is a lie! She grabbed you at the charity
gala! I was standing ten feet away!"
"Julian," I spoke up, stepping forward with calm, ice-cold poise. "You were
standing ten feet away because you were too cowardly to approach the man who had
just bought out your company's secondary debt notes."
I turned to Lady Eleanor, looking the formidable matriarch directly in the eye.
"Lady Eleanor, if Enzo and I were performing for your benefit, do you truly
believe a man as meticulous as Enzo Romano would leave loose ends? We kept our
courtship private because my previous business partner left my firm in financial
vulnerability, and Enzo refused to let the vultures on Wall Street use my name
to attack his stock price."
Lady Eleanor stared at me for five agonizing seconds.
Then, the corners of her stern mouth twitched into a subtle, approving smile.
"A woman who defends her partner in public and balances his ledgers in private,"
Lady Eleanor mused, tapping her cane. "A rare quality in modern society."
She turned back to Julian, her expression turning to stone.
"Mr. Cross... the Saint-Claire Consortium does not do business with men who use
private corporate jets to air their pathetic domestic grievances. Your logistics
contract with our European fleet is terminated effective immediately. Get out of
this house."
Julian gasped, his eyes wide with horror. "Lady Eleanor, please! You don't
understand—"
"Marco," Enzo said softly. "Remove the trash from my property."
Two massive security guards seized Julian by his elbows, dragging him backward
through the double mahogany doors as he shouted desperate, incoherent curses
into the foyer.
When the doors slammed shut, Lady Eleanor let out a soft sigh, turning back to
us.
"Now, Mr. Romano," she said, resting both hands on her gold cane. "The
preliminary contract will be signed at our formal gala in Manhattan this
Saturday. But there is one final condition."
May you like
Enzo raised an eyebrow. "Name it."
"The Saint-Claire family only signs maritime treaties with married partners,"
Lady Eleanor said, her eyes gleaming with ancient mischief. "The ceremony must
take place before the ink dries on Saturday night. I expect a wedding in
forty-eight hours."
