Chapter 6 - The Line in the SandAdrian didn't raise his voice. He didn't draw a weapon.
He stood six-foot-four of absolute, terrifying power, looking down at Victor Vance with the cold, detached disdain a man might offer an insect crawling across his shoe.
"You brought raised voices into my venue, Victor," Adrian spoke softly, every word dropping like a heavy block of frozen iron into the quiet room. "And you spoke to Mara Bellamy."
Victor tried to maintain his arrogant sneer, but the sheer, lethal intensity radiating from Adrian made his shoulders go rigid, his hand trembling slightly against his glass.
"She's a nobody, Moretti!" Victor barked defensively, trying to save face before the watching socialites. "She was serving beer three weeks ago! You think bringing a fat, broke girl to a corporate event makes you look strong?!"
CRACK!
Before Victor’s guards could even react, Adrian reached out with lightning speed, his heavy hand catching Victor by his silk tie, yanking his body forward and driving his frame flat against the stone pillar behind him.
The glass of bourbon shattered against the marble floorboards.
Victor gasped for air, his face turning an ugly, mottled purple as Adrian pinned him against the pillar with one hand, his storm-gray eyes burning with an apocalyptic, lethal fury.
"If you ever use that word in her presence again, Victor," Adrian whispered, his voice dropping into a register so dark it made the surrounding socialites step back in horror, "I will liquidate your entire shipping terminal in South Jersey before sunrise. And then I will personally bury you beneath Pier 4. Am I clear?"
Victor nodded frantically, tears of pain welling in his bloodshot eyes.
Adrian released his grip. Victor collapsed onto his knees on the marble floor, coughing violently, as his four guards scrambled to drag his pathetic frame out through the side doors.
The grand ballroom returned to a dead, breathless silence.
Adrian turned slowly to face me.
The terrifying, apocalyptic aura that had filled the room vanished instantly. His face softened, filled with a deep, frantic concern as he crossed the floor to where I stood.
"Did he make you feel small, Mara?" Adrian asked softly, his broad, warm hands coming up to frame my face, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones.
I looked into his storm-gray eyes—seeing no longer the feared mafia boss of Chicago, but a man who had just declared war on the city to protect my dignity.
I covered his broad hands with mine, offering a radiant, unbroken smile.
May you like
"No, Adrian," I whispered. "He made me realize how powerful I am standing beside you."
Adrian let out a long, shuddering exhale, leaning his forehead gently against mine, his lips pressing a sweet, fierce kiss against my mouth that sealed our bond before the entire city.
