Chapter 10 - The Only Coat That Matters
Six months later.
The autumn chill had settled over Manhattan, painting Central Park in fiery shades of crimson, amber, and gold. Outside the Metropolitan Museum of Art, a massive charity gala was underway, swarming with photographers, socialites, and business tycoons.
The flashbulbs erupted in a blinding frenzy as a midnight-blue Maybach pulled up to the red carpet.
The door opened, and Vincent Calder stepped out, radiating absolute power and effortless elegance in a midnight-black tuxedo. He paused, turning back toward the vehicle, and extended his hand with reverent care.
Evelyn emerged into the flashing lights, looking radiant in an emerald-green silk gown that clung gracefully to her curves, her pale blond hair swept up in an intricate, elegant chignon. On her left ring finger, a flawless five-carat emerald-cut diamond caught the glare of fifty camera lenses.
A gust of October wind swept down Fifth Avenue, carrying a biting chill from the park. Evelyn shivered slightly beneath the sheer fabric of her dress.
Without a second of hesitation, Vincent slipped off his heavy, custom-tailored black cashmere overcoat—stitched by the finest tailor in Milan, lined with pure midnight silk, and carrying the intoxicating, familiar scent of sandalwood and expensive bourbon.
He draped the heavy coat gently over her bare shoulders, wrapping the warm lapels snugly across her chest.
Evelyn looked up at him, her lips curving into a radiant, knowing smile. She reached up, adjusting the silk lapel of his tuxedo, her fingers lingering against his collarbone.
“Aren’t you cold, Mr. Calder?” she teased softly, her eyes sparkling with adoration.
May you like
Vincent leaned down in front of three dozen shouting paparazzi, pressing a slow, possessive, breathtaking kiss against her lips.
“Never,” Vincent whispered against her mouth, his arms wrapping firmly around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. “As long as you’re wearing my coat, Evelyn, we’ll never be cold again.”"
