Chapter 10
He leaned down. His lips brushed the corner of her jaw, a kiss so soft, so achingly tender, that a shiver tore straight through her core. Piper let out a trembling sigh, her fingers curling into the crisp fabric of his jacket.
Then Wyatt drew back just an inch, his hazel eyes dark with immense restraint. He smiled—that slow, lethal, breathtaking smile that made her knees feel weak.
“Let’s go take back your company, Mrs. Brandt.”
***
The St. Regis Hotel on 55th Street was glowing with golden chandeliers and high-society splendor.
A line of Rolls-Royces, Bentleys, and Ferraris stretched down the block, discharging Manhattan’s elite onto the red carpet beneath the green velvet awning. Flashbulbs from society photographers flared against the night chill as heiresses in diamond tiaras and hedge-fund titans in white tie filed into the grand rotunda.
Piper and Wyatt stepped out of a modest yellow cab at the corner, walking past the line of idling limousines toward the bronze doors.
Piper held her satin clutch against her ribs like a shield. She felt the heavy tungsten band on her left ring finger, cool and grounding against her skin.
Wyatt walked beside her, his hand firmly placed at the small of her back. His posture was completely relaxed, yet there was an aura of absolute dominance radiating from him that caused several tuxedo-clad executives in the queue to unconsciously step aside as they passed.
They reached the grand double mahogany doors leading into the Emerald Ballroom.
Inside, the ballroom was a sea of crystal chandeliers, flowing champagne towers, and a string quartet playing Bach above the murmur of hundreds of high-net-worth guests.
On the raised VIP dais at the far end of the room, an enormous digital projection displayed the evening’s keynote banner:
*HOLLOWAY LOGISTICS & PIERCE CAPITAL: THE DAWN OF A STRATEGIC MERGER.* *SPECIAL KEYNOTE BY EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE OF BRANDT GLOBAL.*
Piper’s jaw tightened.
Before they could take three steps into the foyer, two senior hotel security officers in tailored dark suits stepped out from behind the velvet stanchions, blocking their path.
Behind them stepped Beatrice and Landon Pierce.
Beatrice was draped in an emerald gown that was an almost insulting, expensive mockery of Piper’s, dripping with millions in diamonds. Landon stood beside her, a flute of vintage Dom Pérignon in one hand, wearing a smirk of total, sadistic victory.
“Well, well,” Landon chuckled, his eyes sweeping over Piper before landing on Wyatt with sneering derision. “The mechanic actually found a clip-on bow tie. I’m almost impressed you made it past the curb, boy.”
Several society guests turned their heads at the entrance, whispering among themselves as the scene began to draw attention.
“Landon,” Piper said, stepping forward with ice in her veins. “Get out of our way.”
“Not a chance, darling,” Landon snarled, his smirk vanishing into a cold, vicious glare.
He moved with sudden, aggressive speed, his hand shooting out to snatch Piper’s wrist, yanking her forward toward the private registration table.
“You’re done making scenes,” Landon whispered harshly through his teeth. “You sign the transfer deed right now, or your little husband leaves this building in zip-ties.”
On cue, Beatrice snapped her fingers.
Four additional security guards closed in, completely surrounding Wyatt, their hands hovering near their belts.
Beatrice sneered, leaning over the velvet rope toward Piper, her voice dripping with venomous triumph.
“Did you really think you were going to walk in here and ruin my night, Piper? A grease monkey has no standing at the St. Regis. One word from me to the head of hotel security, and your fake husband will spend the night in a central booking cell on criminal trespass charges while Landon’s merger is finalized on the floor.”
She shoved a leather portfolio open on the pedestal, thrusting a gold Montblanc pen into Piper’s face.
“Sign the transfer deed right now, Piper. Sign it, or watch him get dragged through the gutter like the dog he is.”
The circle of guards tightened around Wyatt. Landon’s grip on Piper’s wrist twisted harder, trying to force her fingers toward the pen.
Piper looked at Wyatt, her heart seizing with sudden, suffocating terror for his safety. She opened her mouth, about to scream for hotel management—
Wyatt didn't flinch.
He didn't take a step back. His pulse didn't jump.
Instead, a slow, terrifyingly calm smirk touched his lips.
Moving with effortless grace, Wyatt casually slipped his right thumb beneath his frayed left cuff.
He didn’t pull out a wrench. He didn’t produce an identification card from an auto garage.
He slipped out an ultra-thin, matte-black titanium card embossed with the discreet platinum crest of Brandt Global Capital.
With a smooth, dismissive flick of his wrist, Wyatt touched the heavy metal card to the encrypted handheld verification scanner held by the head of security.
*BEEP.*
A crisp, high-frequency chime sounded from the terminal. The scanner’s display instantly shifted from standby amber to a brilliant, glowing green, illuminating the dark foyer with an unmistakable message across the hotel’s administrative system:
*EXECUTIVE OVERRIDE: BRANDT GLOBAL HOLDINGS — CONTROLLING PRINCIPAL VERIFIED.*
The head of security looked down at the display. The man’s face went completely, horrifically gray as the afternoon briefing from the hotel’s general manager snapped violently into place. His hands began to tremble against the scanner, and he immediately snapped to rigid, deferential attention, gesturing for his men to stand down.
Wyatt stepped effortlessly through the parting ring of paralyzed guards, completely ignoring Beatrice’s dropping jaw.
He reached out, his large, powerful hand wrapping around Landon’s wrist with the crushing, inescapable force of a hydraulic vice. Landon let out a strangled, pathetic gasp of agony as his fingers were forced open, releasing Piper instantly.
Wyatt pulled Piper gently against his broad chest, his arm wrapping around her waist with absolute, terrifying possession.
Then, leaning down until his lips brushed the soft curve of her ear, his low, velvet rumble vibrated straight into her soul:
“Darling, keep your signature. It’s time I introduce you to my board—and you introduce me to yours.”
