Chapter 2 - The Shadow of Marcus Vance
The air in our small circle seemed to thin out instantly as a tall, imposing silhouette blocked the light of the crystal sconces.
He was broad-shouldered, six-foot-two, wearing a bespoke midnight-blue tuxedo tailored with the kind of understated perfection only old money could buy.
His silver-streaked dark hair was cut short, his jawline was carved from granite, and his steel-blue eyes missed absolutely nothing.
Marcus Vance.
CEO of Vance Maritime Logistics, owner of the largest deep-water shipping terminals in the Gulf, and the man whose corporate empire financed half of Biloxi.
Trent turned halfway around, expecting another distant cousin or an annoying waiter.
When his eyes landed on Marcus’s face, Trent’s knees gave a visible, sickening buckle.
His champagne glass wobbled violently in his hand, sloshing pale gold liquid over his knuckles.
"Mr... Mr. Vance?" Trent choked out, his voice leaping into a pathetic, high-pitched squeak.
Marcus didn't glance at Trent.
He didn't even acknowledge the existence of the trembling man standing in his path.
Instead, Marcus walked straight past Trent's outstretched hand, stepping beside me and resting his warm, heavy palm naturally against the small of my back.
The heat of his touch was immediate, steadying, and deeply familiar.
"Daddy!" Maya shouted, abandoning my side to launch herself into Marcus’s arms.
Marcus caught her effortlessly in one arm, hoisting her up against his chest with a warm, rumbling laugh that echoed over the ballroom music.
"Did you find the strawberry table, peanut?" Marcus asked, kissing her temple before looking directly at me with eyes full of unmistakable devotion.
"You look breathtaking tonight, darling," he murmured, his voice rich and low.
"Sorry I had to take that call from the port authority. Everything is squared away now."
"It's perfectly fine," I smiled, leaning up on my toes to brush a soft kiss against his cheek.
Across from us, Corinne looked as though she was about to faint onto the carpet.
Trent stood completely paralyzed, his jaw hanging loose, his face drained of every ounce of blood.
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He was staring at his ultimate corporate boss—the man who controlled his salary, his bonuses, and his entire future in the maritime industry.
And that man was holding my daughter, calling me darling, and looking at me as if I were the center of the universe.
