Chapter 10: Returning to the Lion's Den
The black sedan pulled up to the service entrance of the Grand Meridian Hotel just after dusk. The illuminated facade of the building blazed with television lights and paparazzi flashes as wealthy donors in tuxedos and silk gowns stepped out of luxury town cars. Inside the grand ballroom, the annual Heritage Foundation Gala was already underway, hosted by the Sterling family as a public display of philanthropy and untouchable social dominance.
I adjusted the collar of my dark wool coat, my fingers brushing against the pocket where I carried the spare security pass to the hotel's lower service corridors. Julian sat beside me in the back seat, adjusting the cuffs of his immaculate black suit. His face was calm, mask-like, but his presence filled the cramped interior with a palpable, coiled tension.
"You don't have to go inside with me," Julian said, turning his head to look at me. "My men can deliver the documents to the prosecutor's desk and serve Sterling on the floor."
"No," I said, shaking my head. My voice was steady, lacking the tremor that had plagued me in the mansion dining room. "If they're going to fall, I want them to see the person they thought they could break walk back through the door."
Julian studied my face for a long moment, a faint, approving smile touching his lips. He reached out, his gloved fingers brushing gently against my jawline—right over the fading bruise on my cheek—before pulling back. "Then we finish this together."
We stepped out into the crisp night air, slipping past the glaring flashbulbs of the press corps through a side entrance reserved for catering staff. The familiar scent of roasted meats, expensive perfume, and polish drifted down the service stairs—a cruel echo of the dining room where this nightmare had begun.
Navigating the concrete corridors beneath the ballroom, my heart hammered against my ribs, but my steps didn't falter. I wasn't running away this time. I was walking forward, holding the key to their entire crumbling empire right inside my coat pocket, with the most dangerous man in the city standing right beside me.
We reached the heavy brass-trimmed service doors that led directly onto the rear dais of the grand ballroom. Through the frosted glass panels, I could see the flash of crystal chandeliers and the bright red silk of Lady Sterling's dress as she addressed the applauding crowd from the podium.
Julian rested his hand lightly on the brass handle of the door, turning to look down at me one last time before he pushed it open.
May you like
"Ready, Olivia?" he asked.
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and nodded toward the lights. "Let's open the door."
