Chapter 6 - The Velvet TrapTwo months later, the grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was transformed into an enchanted forest of white roses, cascading ivy, and thousands of twinkling fairy lights.
It was the society wedding of the year—though the New York tabloids called it something else entirely: The Billionaire’s Redemption.
In the private bridal suite upstairs, Ava stood before a towering antique mirror, adjusting the lace sleeves of her custom haute couture wedding gown. The dress was a masterpiece of silk and pearls, designed by an Italian house that usually required a six-month waiting list—secured, of course, with a single phone call from Julian.
The door clicked open, and Julian stepped inside.
He wore a classic midnight-blue tuxedo, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, his dark eyes softening the instant they landed on her reflection. He walked up behind her in the mirror, resting his hands gently on her hips, pressing a warm kiss to the nape of her neck.
“If you keep looking at me like that, we’re going to be very late for our own wedding,” Julian murmured against her skin.
Ava smiled, turning around in his arms and resting her hands against the lapels of his jacket. “Let them wait. After everything it took to get here, I think we’re allowed a few minutes of peace.”
“How are your feet?” he asked, glancing down at her satin designer heels with a hint of protective amusement.
“Better than they were at the Astor Grand,” she laughed softly. “Though I still keep waiting for someone to spill champagne on me just to see if it’s real.”
Julian’s expression tightened just a fraction, the protective edge returning to his voice. “Nobody will ever touch you again, Ava. I meant what I said that night. My world is your armor.”
“I know,” she whispered, leaning up to kiss him gently on the lips. “And I love you for it. But you know what the best part is?”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t need your armor to survive anymore. You just taught me how to wear my own crown.”
A soft knock at the door interrupted them. Dmitri, Julian’s head of security, poked his head in respectfully. “Mr. Vance, Mrs. Vance... the string quartet is finishing the processional. It’s time.”
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Julian offered Ava his arm, a proud, breathtaking smile breaking across his handsome face. “Shall we show New York what a real queen looks like?”
Ava took his arm, her head held high, and walked out toward the grand staircase.
