A deathly silence filled the banquet hall.
Everyone stared at the ruined glass of champagne. No one dared to speak.
The Griffin family ruled Seabridge with an iron grip. No one had ever dared cause trouble at one of their family banquets.
Ethan's chest rose and fell violently, the veins in his neck bulging.
I didn't look at him again.
My gaze moved past the crowd toward the darkest corner of the hall.
There was no light there. A wheelchair stood by the floor-to-ceiling window.
A man sat in it. He wore a black shirt, his skin carrying the ashen tone of someone who rarely saw daylight.
A silver Zippo lighter spun between his fingers. The lid clicked open and shut, the flame flickering on and off, briefly illuminating a face that was sickly ashen yet strikingly handsome.
It was Adrian.
The youngest son of the Griffin family. Ethan's uncle.
Rumor said his legs were crippled and his personality dark and unpredictable. A discarded man pushed to the edge of the family's power.
I turned and walked toward that corner.
"Nina, stop right there!" Ethan roared behind me.
I ignored him completely.
The sound of my heels striking the marble floor echoed sharply through the silent hall, each step landing like a heartbeat.
One step. Two. Three.
I stopped in front of the wheelchair.
Adrian didn't look up. His eyes remained on the lighter in his hand, as if that tiny flame was far more interesting than the chaos around us.
I bent down, bracing my hands on the wheelchair's armrests, forcing myself to meet his gaze.
The stance was aggressive, charged with a desperate, all-or-nothing resolve.
"Adrian." My voice wasn't loud, but in the silent hall it carried clearly. "Do you need a wife?"
Adrian's fingers paused on the lighter.
Holding his unfathomable gaze, I laid out my terms quickly.
"I'm a top surgeon. I can treat your legs. My background is clean. I can help you deal with the women you don't want to marry. Most importantly, you and I share the same enemy. I can help you take back your inheritance."
A wave of shocked gasps spread through the room.
Ethan rushed forward and grabbed my arm, gripping so hard it felt like he might crush the bone.
"Nina, have you lost your mind? He's crippled!"
Ethan pointed straight at Adrian. "Just to piss me off, you'd rather marry a man who can't even stand? What can he possibly give you? He doesn't even have the most basic ability a man should have!"
The lighter snapped shut.
Adrian closed the lighter.
The small flame vanished, and his face slipped back into shadow.
He slowly lifted his eyes.
There was no anger in them. Only amusement, like a spectator enjoying the show, and something far more unsettling hidden beneath.
"Dr. Sterling." His voice was rough, like sandpaper scraping across stone. "My condition isn't easy to treat."
I shook Ethan's hand off and never looked away from Adrian.
"That's convenient," I said. "I specialize in difficult cases."
The corner of Adrian's mouth lifted slowly.
The next second, he suddenly reached out.
His hand was cold and strong as it grabbed the small of my back.
The world spun.
A powerful pull dragged me down, and I landed on his lap.
Solid strength beneath me.
His arm locked around my waist like a steel clamp, holding me firmly against his chest in a silent declaration of possession.
Ethan froze in place, eyes bulging in disbelief.
Adrian didn't even glance at him. He casually smoothed the folds of my dress.
Then he lifted his eyes and glanced at Ethan, whose face had turned ashen. His tone was lazy and deliberately cruel.
"Nephew, what are you standing there for?" His hand patted lightly at my waist. "She's your aunt now."