CONTRACT MARRIAGE

CHAPTER TEN— INTO THE LION'S DEN

The Moretti Gala wasn’t held in a ballroom; it was held in a refurbished cathedral in Chelsea, a place of stone arches and stained glass that now served as a temple to New York’s darkest money.

If the Blackwood events were about "Quiet Luxury," the Moretti party was about Power. Red velvet, flickering candlelight, and air so thick with expensive cigars it felt like stepping into a furnace.

"Stay close," Julian muttered as we stepped out of the car.

He didn't just offer his arm; he pulled me flush against his side, his hand possessively spanning my waist. I was wearing a dress he had personally selected—a liquid gold silk that clung to every curve, backless and daring. On my neck sat the Blackwood Emeralds, twenty million dollars of defiance draped against my skin.

"They’re going to look for a crack in the foundation, Elena," Julian whispered, his lips brushing my temple. "Don't give them a single one. If they ask about the debt, tell them your husband has already settled the tab."

"Husband?" I breathed, the word tasting strange and heavy. "We aren't married yet, Julian."

"In this room, we are. I need them to know that touching you is the same as declaring war on me."

We entered the cathedral. The music—a haunting, aggressive cello piece—seemed to pulse through the floorboards. Heads turned instantly. The "Ice King" had walked into the lair of his greatest enemy, and he brought his "Budget Bride" as a shield.

At the center of the room stood Marco Moretti. He was younger than I expected, with slicked-back dark hair and a smile that didn't reach his predatory eyes. He held a glass of dark liquor, watching us approach with the stillness of a snake.

"Julian," Marco called out, his voice a smooth, oily baritone. "I didn't think you had the stomach for a Moretti party. And you brought the lovely Elena. I was beginning to wonder when she’d return my calls."

Julian’s grip on my waist tightened until it was almost painful. "She’s busy, Marco. Being a Blackwood takes up a lot of her time."

Marco stepped closer, his gaze raking over the emeralds on my neck. "A beautiful collar, Elena. But I think you and I both know you’re still wearing my leash underneath it. That loan your father took? The interest just doubled this morning."

I felt the heat of Julian’s anger radiating off him like a physical force.

"Name your price, Marco," Julian said, his voice dropping into a lethal, low register. "I’m buying the Vance debt. Tonight. In full."

Marco laughed, a dry, cold sound. "It’s not for sale, Julian. I like having a Vance in my pocket. It gives me such a lovely window into your private life. Tell me, does she scream your name in that big, empty penthouse, or is she still dreaming of the day she can pay me back and run away from you?"

The room went deathly silent. I saw Julian’s jaw lock, his eyes turning into shards of blue glass. For a second, I thought he was going to swing.

Instead, Julian leaned in, his face inches from Marco’s. "You have until tomorrow morning to send the paperwork to my legal team. If you don't, I will spend every cent of the Blackwood fortune to short your stocks until you’re selling that suit just to buy a sandwich. Do not test me, Marco. I don't just buy companies; I erase them."

Julian didn't wait for a response. He turned me around and marched me toward the exit. We were halfway to the doors when I saw her.

Genevieve.

She was standing by a stone pillar, a glass of champagne in her hand, watching the exchange with a look of pure, unadulterated triumph. She didn't say a word. She just raised her glass to us.

As we reached the sidewalk and the cool night air hit my face, Julian didn't slow down. He practically threw me into the back of the Maybach and climbed in after me, slamming the door.

"Julian—"

"Don't," he snapped, his chest heaving. He ripped off his tie and threw it onto the floor. "He’s not going to sell. He’s going to use you to bait me into a merger I don't want."

He looked at me then, his eyes raw and filled with a terrifying intensity.

"We can't wait a year, Elena. The engagement isn't enough protection anymore."

"What are you saying?" I asked, my heart hammering.

Julian leaned across the seat, his hands framing my face, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones with a desperation that shattered the "Business" mask once and for all.

"We’re going to the courthouse. Tonight. We’re getting married for real, Elena. No gala, no cameras, no witnesses. Just a signature that makes you legally untouchable."

"Julian, that wasn't the deal—"

"The deal just changed," he whispered, his forehead resting against mine. "Because I realized tonight that I’m not just protecting my CEO chair anymore. I’m protecting you."