Chapter 3 - The Armored ConvoyThe private express elevator descended at terrifying speed, dropping forty-seven floors in total darkness as the building's emergency generators kicked in.
Inside the quiet cabin, Julian stood braced against the wall, his broad arm wrapped securely around Emma’s waist, shielding her from the vibration. Leo stood at the door, his sidearm raised, watching the digital floor indicator tick down.
"Who are they, Julian?" Emma asked softly into the dark, using his first name for the first time.
"Marcus Moretti," Julian revealed, his voice flat and lethal. "A man who believes that killing me at a charity gala will give him control of the Hudson shipping terminals. He thought I was alone tonight."
"He didn't count on the seamstress," Emma noted deadpan.
Julian let out a low, rich chuckle that vibrated through his chest against her shoulder. "No, Miss Reyes. He certainly did not."
The elevator doors opened into the sub-basement executive garage.
Three midnight-black armored Maybachs sat idling, their heavy tires gleaming against the wet concrete floor. Ten more armed Vescari operators stood posted around the garage, their weapons raised as the elevator doors opened.
"Boss!" the lead operator reported rapidly. "Moretti’s street teams have blocked Fifth Avenue! We need to take the private tunnel under the river to the Long Island estate!"
Julian guided Emma into the rear passenger cabin of the central Maybach. The heavy armored door slammed shut with a thick, airtight THUD, sealing out the city noise.
Emma sat back on the heated leather seat, carefully laying the silver silk gown across her lap. Her hands were shaking now that the immediate adrenaline rush was easing, the reality of what she had just survived crashing over her.
Julian sat beside her, unbuttoning his tuxedo vest, pulling a sleek silver flask from his pocket. He unscrewed the cap and handed it to her.
"Drink," Julian commanded gently. "It's twenty-year-old scotch. It helps with the shock."
Emma took the flask, taking a slow sip. The warm amber liquid burned down her throat, settling into her stomach with a comforting heat.
She looked over at Julian, taking in his severe jawline, his storm-gray eyes, and the dark stain on his cuff.
"You're not going to let me walk out of this, are you?" Emma asked quietly.
Julian reached out his broad hand, taking her thin, calloused fingers into his palm, interlacing their fingers under the interior cabin light.
"Marcus Moretti saw you leave that elevator on his surveillance feed, Emma," Julian spoke, his baritone filled with an absolute, unshakeable truth. "If I let you walk back to your apartment tonight... his men will use you to get to me."
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Emma looked down at their joined hands. "So I'm your prisoner?"
"You are my guest, Miss Reyes," Julian corrected softly, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. "And starting tonight... you are under the personal, sovereign protection of Julian Vescari."
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