Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Chloe!” But I’m laughing. “Yes, I asked. He’s not in the mafia.”
“And you believed him?” Hailey asks, adjusting the dress’s shoulder. “Just like that?”
I think about the bits and pieces I’ve learned about Cole’s past. “He’s not mafia,” I say slowly. “But his past is . . . complicated. Dark, even.” I smooth my hands over the silk. “Maybe I should have asked more questions, but I’ve been taking it one revelation at a time.”
“Baby steps,” Chloe agrees. “Though I have to say, the whole security detail thing does seem a bit intense.”
My smile fades slightly. “That’s because of Julian.” Both girls go quiet.
“Hey.” Hailey squeezes my shoulder. “Cole’s got you covered. And this dress? This is definitely the one for making dramatic entrances at fancy galas while being surrounded by security.”
“Try the black one next,” Chloe calls from the phone. “I need to see if it lives up to Cole’s note. Ice Queen vibes only, please!”
After we say goodbye to Chloe, Hailey and I get back to work. She moves through the studio with practiced efficiency, her hands steady as she sets stones and shapes metal. I’ve never seen anyone work with such precision and speed—she can execute a design faster than most jewelers can read the blueprint.
I lose myself in the delicate work of setting tiny diamonds into the frost-inspired patterns, watching each piece transform from concept to reality. Hailey works beside me, offering quiet suggestions that always make the piece stronger, her expertise making our process seamless. By late afternoon, we’ve completed three new pieces and have two more in progress. The collection is really coming together—elegant and fierce, exactly how I want to feel on Friday night.
When Cole comes home, I’m wearing the black dress Hailey declared perfect, paired with a set of earrings I just finished—delicate cascades of metal and crystal. Cole goes still in the doorway, his expression making me forget every insecurity.
“Too much?” I ask, but I already know the answer from the way he’s looking at me.
He crosses the room, touches one earring with reverent fingers. “Perfect.”
“The gala on Friday,” I say, touching the delicate bracelet I’m wearing—another of my pieces. “It’s not just a charity event, is it?”
“No. Bergdorf is hosting. They want to debut part of your collection—give everyone a sneak peek of what’s coming.”
The announcement should terrify me. Instead, I feel ready. More than ready.
Chapter Thirty Cole
7 days until . . .
You’re making a mistake.” Knox stands in front of my desk, arms crossed. He’s been at it for twenty minutes.
I continue reviewing the security plans for tonight. “We’ve been over this.”
“The moment you step into that ballroom with her, Julian will know she’s the chink in your armor.”
I look up from the papers, meeting his gaze. “No. He’ll know she’s my strength. And if he so much as looks in her direction, I’ll burn his empire to the ground with him in it.”
Knox’s laugh is sharp, humorless. “Listen to yourself. You’re getting arrogant, Cole. Maybe you can afford to be. Hell, maybe you are fucking invincible at this point.” He plants his hands on my desk, leaning forward. “But is she? Because Julian doesn’t play fair. He doesn’t come at you directly—he finds what matters and he breaks it. You know this. You’ve seen him do it.”
I feel my jaw tighten. “That was before.”
“Before what? Before you became New York’s golden boy? Before you thought you could control everything?” Knox straightens, shaking his head. “I’ve known you fifteen years. I’ve watched you build all this. But I’ve never seen you this blind.”
“I’m not blind.” My voice is quiet now. Dangerous. “I see everything. Every angle, every threat, every possibility. That’s why we’re doing this. Because hiding her away, treating her like she’s fragile—that makes her a target.”
“So what’s your alternative? Parade her around at every society event? Make her New York’s newest sensation?” Knox watches me carefully. “And then what, Cole? What happens when the jewelry line launches? When the excitement dies down? You going to keep her locked in that penthouse like a bird in a gilded cage?”
The question hits harder than I want to admit. I turn to look out the window at the city below, my city, where I’ve always been able to control every moving piece. “You think I haven’t asked myself these questions?”
“Have you found any answers?”
“She’s not meant for cages.” The words come out before I can stop them. “You’ve seen her work. Her mind. The way she creates beauty from nothing, transforms raw materials into something impossible . . .” I stop, realizing how much I’m revealing.
“Then what?” Knox’s voice is quieter now. “Exactly, then what?”
I don’t have an answer. For the first time in years, I don’t have the next ten moves mapped out. I know how to protect her from Julian, from my enemies, from the press. But how do I protect her from the life I’ve built? From what loving me means—the constant security, the scrutiny, the knowledge that every move is watched and analyzed. The reality that she’ll never have a normal life again, never be able to just walk down a street alone or open her studio to the public without a threat assessment. From the fact that loving me means living in a world where even the smallest decision becomes a strategic calculation, where trust is a luxury we can rarely afford, where every person who approaches her might have an agenda. How do I protect her from that?