Chapter 3 - The Gala of WolvesForty-eight hours later, the grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel glistened with crystal chandeliers, champagne fountains, and Manhattan's absolute elite.
Garrett Holloway stood near the center of the room, surrounded by politicians and foreign investors, holding a crystal glass of scotch. At fifty-two, he was thick-necked, graying, and wore his wealth like armor, laughing boisterously at his own jokes while his sharp eyes constantly scanned the room for threats.
Then the double doors at the entrance opened, and the murmur of conversation died down instantly.
Damian Vance walked in.
He looked devastatingly regal in a custom black tuxedo, his dark hair brushed back, his presence commanding the space effortlessly. But it wasn't Damian who made forty of New York's wealthiest people stop drinking.
It was the woman on his arm.
Sienna Cross looked nothing like the bartender who had chocolate mousse thrown in her face two nights ago. Her dark chestnut hair was styled in sleek, luxurious waves falling over one shoulder. She wore a floor-length emerald green silk gown that fitted her like a second skin, exposing a smooth, elegant back and a diamond necklace that cost more than a brownstone in Brooklyn.
Her expression was calm, regal, and terrifyingly cold.
Garrett Holloway froze, his glass stopping halfway to his mouth. His eyes widened in absolute shock as he recognized the woman walking alongside his greatest rival.
"Damian," Holloway said, forcing a tight, strained smile as Damian and Sienna approached his group. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight. And... you brought company."
"Garrett," Damian replied smoothly, his hand resting comfortably on the small of Sienna’s back, his touch possessive and grounding. "I believe you've already met my new Director of Strategic Operations, Miss Sienna Cross."
Holloway's jaw tightened so hard a muscle twitched near his ear. "Strategic Operations? I thought she was pouring drinks at your club two nights ago."
"She was observing," Damian said coolly, his whiskey-colored eyes locking onto Holloway's with predatory intensity. "I prefer my top executives to understand my business from the floor up. It prevents them from making stupid mistakes... like underestimating people who are smarter than them."
Sienna looked directly into Holloway's eyes, her voice smooth and sweet as poison. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Holloway. I'm glad to see your hands are clean tonight. Mousse can be so messy to clean up."
A few nearby guests stifled a chuckle. Holloway's face flushed a dangerous shade of crimson. He leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a harsh whisper so the surrounding crowd couldn't hear.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Vance," Holloway hissed. "Bringing a nobody into a room full of people who control your credit lines? You think this little street girl protects you?"
"I don't need protection, Garrett," Damian said, stepping closer until he was towering over the older man. "You do. Because while you were busy playing power games at my bar, my legal team acquired sixty percent of the debt obligations on your shipping docks in New Jersey. Which means by midnight tonight, I own the land under your feet."
Holloway turned pale. "You... you can't touch those docks."
"I already have," Damian whispered with a chilling smile. "Enjoy the party, Garrett. It’s the last one you’ll ever host."
Damian guided Sienna away toward the balcony, leaving Holloway standing frozen in the middle of the room, surrounded by whispering spectators.
Outside on the moonlit balcony, the cool autumn air brushed against Sienna's shoulders. She let out a slow, controlled breath, her fingers tightening around the stone railing.
"That was exhilarating," she murmured, looking out at the glittering lights of Central Park.
"That was only the opening move," Damian said, stepping up behind her. He unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket and draped it gently over her bare shoulders, his hands lingering near her neck. "Holloway is panicked now. A panicked man makes mistakes. By tomorrow night, he’ll move his secure hard drives out of his Greenwich home to a safe house. And that's when we intercept them."
Sienna turned around inside his jacket, looking up into his dark eyes. They were standing inches apart, the warmth of his body blocking out the chilly breeze.
"Why are you doing this, Damian?" she asked softly. "You could have bankrupted him without dragging me into this. You could have stayed safe."
Damian looked down at her lips, then back into her eyes. His expression softened into something fierce and tender.
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"Because the moment I saw you standing at that bar with cream on your face, refusing to break," Damian whispered, his hand rising to touch her cheek softly, "I knew I was looking at the only woman in this city who could stand beside me."
Sienna’s heart skipped a beat as his thumb brushed across her cheekbone—the very spot Holloway had humiliated her. But this time, there was no shame. There was only fire.
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