Chapter 9

Isadora stopped in the center of the crowd. She leaned heavily on her onyx cane. The air in the room felt suffocating.

Vaughn thought Isadora was coming to help him. He pointed at Carli. "Mrs. Gutierrez, this woman is attacking people. She needs to be thrown out."

Isadora didn't even look at him. "The Adler boy," she said, her voice dry and cold. "You have no manners."

Vaughn's face drained of color. He snapped his mouth shut and stepped back.

Isadora walked right up to Carli. Her sharp, wrinkled eyes scanned Carli from head to toe.

Carli didn't flinch. She kept her spine perfectly straight. She offered a small, respectful nod to the older woman.

Isadora's eyes softened slightly. "That dress," Isadora said. "Is that Edna's work?"

Carli's heart skipped a beat. "Yes, ma'am. She designed it for me."

Isadora nodded slowly. "You have your aunt's spine. I like you."

The crowd gasped. The socialites who had been laughing at Carli moments ago now stared at her with pure, unhidden jealousy.

Lilah, still dripping with wine, dug her nails into Vaughn's arm. Her face twisted with rage.

Isadora turned her head slightly to her guards. "Throw the trash out. They are ruining my floor."

Two massive men in black suits stepped forward. They grabbed Lilah by the arms and dragged her toward the side exit. Lilah screamed and kicked, but they didn't stop.

Vaughn took half a step forward to help her, but one of the guards glared at him. Vaughn froze, watching Lilah get thrown out into the street.

Isadora looked toward the main table. She raised her hand.

"Fletcher," she called out. Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the silence.

Fletcher Gutierrez put down his glass. He stood up. He walked across the room with long, powerful strides.

As he got closer, the heavy scent of cedar and tobacco wrapped around Carli again. Her lungs tightened.

Fletcher stopped next to his grandmother. "Yes, Grandmother." His voice was low and smooth. But his dark eyes were locked entirely on Carli.

"Escort Carli for the rest of the evening," Isadora commanded. "See that she is protected."

The room collectively held its breath. The ruthless king of Wall Street, acting as a bodyguard for a disgraced heiress.

Vaughn stared at them, his hands balled into fists, his eyes burning with jealousy.

As he approached, Carli thought she saw a flicker of something unreadable in his dark eyes, a glint of satisfaction that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He stepped closer to Carli and offered her his right arm.

Carli looked at his thick, muscular arm. She wanted to destroy Vaughn completely. She placed her hand on Fletcher's forearm.

The second her skin touched his suit, the muscles beneath the fabric went rock hard.

Fletcher slid his hand around to the small of her back. His large palm rested against the bare skin exposed by the deep V of her dress. His hand was burning hot.

He leaned down. His lips brushed against her ear.

"You look beautiful tonight," he whispered. His voice was a harsh, gravelly rasp.

Carli's brain short-circuited. The memory of the dark club crashed over her. A jolt went through her spine, sharp and sudden. The voice... the heat radiating from his chest... the rich, dark smell... it was all disturbingly familiar. It was an echo of that night that made her skin prickle with a confusing mix of fear and excitement. She searched his face for any sign of recognition, her mind racing to connect the ruthless billionaire standing before her with the masked stranger in the shadows.

Fletcher's face was completely blank. His dark eyes gave away absolutely nothing.

He tightened his grip on her waist and guided her forward, leaving Vaughn standing alone in the crowd.