Chapter 417
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Chapter 417:
Near the towering ten-tier champagne pyramid, Bella finally let out a massive sigh of relief. Her bridesmaid duties were officially over. She grabbed a fresh glass of champagne and downed half of it in one gulp. She wore a stunning champagne-colored silk gown, and the alcohol had already brought a deep, rosy flush to her cheeks, her eyes slightly glazed.
She took a step backward. Her stiletto heel caught hard on the hem of her long silk skirt.
Bella gasped as her center of gravity vanished. She flailed her arms, falling directly toward a massive table stacked with delicate French macarons.
Suddenly, a large and incredibly steady hand clamped firmly around her waist, pulling her forward with smooth, effortless strength and righting her balance before she could crash into the pastries.
Bella blinked and looked up. She found herself staring into a pair of warm, intelligent hazel eyes. The man holding her wore a perfectly tailored navy blue suit and radiated a quiet, intellectual authority.
He smiled and slowly released her waist. He lifted a glass of sparkling water from a passing tray and handed it to her.
“Champagne is wonderful,” the man said, his voice deep and soothing, “but if you drink too much, you might miss the fireworks display, Bella p>
Bella stared at him, her alcohol-fogged brain suddenly clicking into gear. She recognized that face from the front page of the Washington Post.
“You’re Senator Hayes,” Bella breathed, her eyes widening.
Hayes chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling warmly. The air between them crackled with a sharp, unexpected chemistry.
On the other side of the lawn, Carter was holding court near the cigar lounge — scotch in hand, loudly recounting his and Gaston’s glory days at Harvard Law to a group of young analysts.
𝗔𝗱𝘥𝘪𝖼𝘁ive 𝗇o𝘃𝗲l𝘴 𝘰ո 𝗀𝘢lո𝗼𝘷е𝗅ѕ.сo𝗺
He spun around to emphasize a point, his arm swinging wide. The red wine in his glass sloshed over the rim, splashing directly onto the pristine white haute couture blazer of the woman standing behind him.
Carter’s face drained of color. “Oh my god, I am so sorry! Let me get a napkin p>
He reached out. The woman coldly slapped his hand away.
She had sharp, angular features and a razor-sharp bob haircut. Her eyes narrowed into lethal slits as she looked down at the red stain ruining her ten-thousand-dollar suit.
“Your reflexes are just as pathetic as they were during our 1L mock trial, Carter,” the woman sneered, her voice dripping with ice.
Carter froze. His jaw dropped. “Pierce? You’re the ruthless M&A shark Gaston hired to dismantle Douglas Tech p>
“And you are still a walking liability,” Pierce shot back, crossing her arms.
Within seconds, the two of them were locked in a vicious, rapid-fire verbal sparring match in the corner of the reception, their hostility barely concealing a thick, undeniable current of tension beneath it.
Two miles from the glowing estate, on a dark, empty stretch of Long Island highway.
A single black Maybach sat parked on the gravel shoulder. The engine was off. The only light inside the cabin came from the glowing ember of the cigarette trembling between Kieran Douglas’s fingers.
His family’s company was gone. His reputation was destroyed. This Maybach was the last asset he possessed, and the bank was scheduled to repossess it by morning.