Chapter 13: The Rehearsal Shift
970 Words
The grand ballroom of Chateau Reed looked like a fortress of glass and ice. Massive crystal chandeliers hung from the timber ceilings, casting a cold, brilliant glow over two hundred high-society guests. In the corner, the ice sculpture stood perfectly straight, its daylight spectrum lighting making the Westbrook crest look like a flawless diamond.
I smoothed down the skirt of my midnight-blue gown. Beside me, Axel stood completely at ease. Every trace of emotion from our terrace kiss had vanished from his features. He was back in his element, radiating the cool authority of a man who ruled a twelve-billion-dollar empire.
"Hazel, darling!"
I turned as my cousin, Leo, jogged over, a stolen champagne flute in his hand. Leo was the only Westbrook who didn't care about luxury brands or social climbing. He was a mechanical engineer, completely oblivious to family politics, and my only true ally in this house.
"I leave for one conference, come back, and you’re threatening billionaires with furniture," Leo said, his lips twitching into a grin. "Classic family reunion."
A small laugh escaped me. "Good to see you too, Leo."
"Seriously," Leo dropped his voice, leaning in. "Just watch your back tonight. Clara is unhinged. She’s been huddled in the corner with that investigative journalist from The Manhattan Ledger—the one she invited to cover the wedding. She’s trying to feed him something about your design studio’s debt."
I lifted my chin. "Let her try."
"Ladies and gentlemen," the master of ceremonies boomed through the speakers. "Please clear the floor for our core bridal party. To open the rehearsal celebration, we welcome our maid of honor, Ms. Hazel Sterling, and her fiancé, Mr. Axel Blackwell."
The crowd erupted into applause. Necks craned as Axel led me onto the polished hardwood.
"Tell me you can dance," he had murmured in the foyer. Now, as his large palm slid into mine and his right hand placed firmly against my waist, I realized I was the one who should have asked.
Axel moved with an elegant fluidness. He pulled me into the first sweeping turn, his long strides easily guiding mine as the classical orchestra began to play. The closeness was overwhelming. The faint scent of cedar and rain on his jacket filled my senses.
"You're doing perfectly, love," Axel whispered, his breath warm against my ear as he spun me outward, then pulled me back flush against his chest. His touch was firm, protective, but I could feel a slight tremor in his fingers.
"Leo says Clara is talking to the press," I whispered back, my eyes locking onto his. "She's trying to expose the studio's debt facility."
"My assistant, Marcus, already flagged the journalist," Axel said smoothly, guiding me through a seamless reverse turn. "Blackwell Capital owns forty percent of The Ledger’s parent company. If he prints a single unverified syllable about your business, his career is liquidated by midnight. Focus on me, Hazel."
I studied his face, the hard lines of his jaw softening slightly under the ballroom lights. I wanted to lose myself in the rhythm, to believe that this protective warmth was entirely real. But as he spun me toward the edge of the floor, my eyes caught a figure standing near the entrance columns.
Elena Vance. She stood in a striking black velvet gown, sipping red wine, a knowing smirk on her face.
The music swelled to a finish. Axel brought me to a halt, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my forehead as the crowd cheered.
"I need a drink," I murmured, stepping out of his arms before the heat of his body could make me completely unravel.
Axel returned carrying two champagne flutes. Instead of handing me one immediately, he scanned my face once, noticed my expression, and his easy confidence vanished. Before he could ask what was wrong, his secure smartphone buzzed intensely in his palm. He lifted the device, his thumb sweeping across the screen to unlock it via biometric scan. An urgent notification banner from his legal team lit up the glass.
"I have to handle a flash brief with Richard's board members," Axel murmured, his jaw tightening as he set the unlocked phone face-up on the small cocktail ledge directly behind us. "Don't move from this column, Hazel. I’ll be back in two minutes."
I watched his broad shoulders disappear into the crowd. The moment he was out of sight, I stepped back into the shadow of the marble pillar, my fingers instantly finding the cold metal of his unlocked phone. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced my movements to stay precise.
I bypassed his personal message logs and tapped into the active background application his legal team had just pinged. My eyes scanned the scrolling list of recent corporate transactions until they hit an active funding directory labeled: *Project London Flagship.*
I tapped it open. Elena hadn't been entirely lying, but she hadn't given me the full picture either.
The multi-million dollar boutique hotel renovation contract in London—the massive career win that had saved my studio from total bankruptcy last month—was listed right there. But the client funding line didn't show a luxury brand. It read: *Client Funding: BWC Holdings Ltd.*
BWC Holdings Ltd.
My stomach tightened. BWC… Blackwell Capital?
It wasn’t proof. But it was enough to make me question everything.
I didn't have time to dig deeper. I heard Axel's deep voice greeting a colleague just ten feet away. I snapped three photos of the screen before slipping the phone back where he had left it just as he turned the corner.
“Everything okay?” he asked, his eyes searching mine with genuine concern.
"Perfect," I lied.
He smiled, relieved.
And somehow, that hurt more than if he had lied to me.
- Writer
