Chapter 6 - The Opening Night
The grand foyer of the Metropolitan Opera House was a swirling sea of black tie attire, flashing paparazzi cameras, and whispered high-society gossip.
When Gabriel Thorne’s sleek limousine pulled up to the velvet ropes, the photographers surged forward like a tidal wave hitting a seawall.
Clara sat inside the darkened cabin, her hands sweating against the smooth fabric of the midnight-blue Valentino gown Gabriel’s stylists had chosen for her.
“Breathe,” Gabriel commanded softly from the seat beside her, reaching over to place his large hand over her trembling, ring-clad fingers.
“They are looking for a weakness, Clara. Do not give them the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.”
The car door swung open, and Gabriel stepped out first, immediately turning back to offer her his hand with practiced, effortless chivalry.
As Clara stepped out onto the red carpet, a blinding explosion of camera flashes erupted, accompanied by a chaotic chorus of reporters shouting Gabriel’s name.
Gabriel’s arm slid possessively around her waist, pulling her flush against his side as he guided her toward the grand entrance of the opera house.
His grip was firm and protective, anchoring her against the overwhelming sensory assault of the media mob surging against the security barricades.
“Who is the mystery woman, Gabriel?” a reporter from The Daily Post shouted, thrusting a microphone toward them. “Is the Midas of Wall Street finally off the market?”
Gabriel paused at the top of the carpet, turning slightly to face the cameras with a rare, devastatingly handsome smile that Clara had never seen before.
“This is Clara Hayes,” Gabriel announced smoothly, his voice projecting over the clamor with effortless authority. “My fiancée, and the only woman who has ever managed to keep my attention.”
The press corps erupted into a frenzy of new questions, but Gabriel simply tightened his hold on her waist and guided her through the gilded doors into the quiet sanctuary of the lobby.
Once inside, Clara let out a long, ragged breath, looking up at him with wide, adrenaline-fueled eyes.
“You lied without even blinking,” she murmured, both impressed and slightly terrified by how easily he manipulated the narrative.
Gabriel looked down at her, his dark eyes darkening as he took in the picture she made in the sapphire gown under the crystal chandeliers.
“In my world, Clara, a lie is only a lie if someone catches you telling it,” Gabriel replied quietly.
May you like
He offered her his arm with a formal, courtly nod toward the sweeping marble staircase leading up to the private boxes.
“Shall we go show New York how much we are in love?”
