Chapter 63

The storm broke with theatrical suddenness just as Vivian Hartley's phone chimed with her ride confirmation. Lightning split the sky like a photographer's flash, followed by thunder that vibrated through her bones. Marble-sized raindrops began assaulting the pavement with violent precision.

Vivian lifted her designer handbag overhead in a futile attempt at protection and sprinted toward the curb. Within seconds, her silk blouse became translucent against her skin, her Jimmy Choos ruined beyond salvation, and her carefully styled waves transformed into a dripping mess.

A white Toyota Prius—her booked ride—appeared through the curtain of rain. But before she could reach it, a sleek black Bentley materialized like a panther cutting through the storm. The door swung open to reveal Ethan Caldwell holding an umbrella large enough to shelter three people.

"Get in." Adrian Blackwood's command sliced through the rain from inside the vehicle, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Vivian spared Adrian only the briefest glance—the kind one might give a particularly uninteresting lamppost—before deliberately stepping back into the downpour. She moved with purpose toward her waiting Prius, rain streaming down her determined face.

"Mrs. Blackwood, Mr. Blackwood specifically came to—" Ethan's protest died on his lips as he watched her retreating figure.

Adrian exited the Bentley without a word. In three long strides, he intercepted Vivian just as her fingers touched the Prius door handle. With one sharp motion, he slammed it shut.

"What the hell—" Vivian's outrage turned to shock as Adrian swept her off her feet effortlessly. Her protests were swallowed by another thunderclap as he carried her back to his car.

"Put me down this instant!" She writhed like an angry cat in his arms, her voice rising above the storm. "Since when does the great Adrian Blackwood resort to kidnapping women in broad daylight?"

Her struggles proved useless against his strength. Adrian deposited her gently but firmly into the Bentley's leather backseat before sliding in beside her. His designer suit now bore damp patches from their brief excursion, and his nose wrinkled slightly at the sight.

Vivian's ruined makeup created dark streaks down her cheeks, and her soaked hair dripped steadily onto the Bentley's custom wool carpets. Each drop spread like ink on parchment, staining the luxury interior.

Ethan, ever the efficient assistant, immediately adjusted the climate control and produced a monogrammed towel from the console. "Mrs. Blackwood," he offered smoothly, "you'll catch cold."

Adrian watched her futile attempts at damage control with amusement. "That was quite the performance," he remarked, brushing rainwater from his sleeve. "Did you enjoy your dramatic exit?"

Vivian paused mid-pat, fixing him with a glare that could melt steel. "If someone hadn't decided to play knight in shining armor, I'd be halfway home by now." Her voice cracked slightly despite her best efforts. "Tell me, Adrian, is this how you treat all women? Dragging them places against their will?"

The memory of being abandoned at that gala for Serena Whitmore rose unbidden, making her eyes burn. Normally so composed, Vivian's face now betrayed the storm inside her—eyes glittering with unshed tears, lips pressed into a thin line of defiance. The raindrops on her lashes could almost pass for tears, but everyone in that car knew Vivian Hartley never cried. Not anymore.