Chapter 15 - THE NEW ORDER|
Two weeks later.
The news of the Beacon Hill shootout had been entirely erased from public record by Roman's political connections. Marco Moretti had vanished overnight—his entire syndicate dissolved or absorbed into the Vale empire.
At the corner of Newbury Street, the grand grand-reopening of my gallery was in full swing.
The broken display glass had been replaced with bulletproof, crystal-clear reinforced panels. The sign above the door no longer read Harlow Restoration.
It read: CLAIRE PROVENANCE & FINE ART.
Inside, Boston's elite packed the room, sipping champagne and bidding on high-end European pieces.
I stood near the grand archway, wearing a floor-length dark red silk dress that hugged every curve of my body. No more hiding. No more quiet compromise.
I ordered dessert if I wanted it. I spoke loudly. I held my head high.
A shadow fell beside me.
I turned to see Roman Vale standing there in a midnight-blue tuxedo, holding two glasses of vintage champagne.
"You look breathtaking, Claire," Roman said softly, handing me a glass.
"Thank you," I smiled, taking a sip. "And thank you for the security team outside."
"They are permanent," Roman noted smoothly. "You are the most powerful provenance director in New England now. You need protection."
May you like
"Or maybe I just need a very sharp business partner," I teased gently.
Roman stepped closer, his gray eyes locking onto mine with undeniable intention. "Is that all we are, Claire? Partners?"
