Chapter 4 - The Bride’s Entrance
The door clicked open, and Chloe Bishop—or Elena Vance, as the dossier named her—stepped into the office.
She looked breathtaking. Her ivory silk gown shimmered under the recessed lighting, and the five-carat diamond on her left hand caught the light like a starburst. But the carefully cultivated expression of a blushing bride vanished the moment she saw Roman standing by the desk and Tessa sitting at the auxiliary terminal.
“Roman, darling,” Chloe said, her voice dripping with practiced sweetness as she glided across the Turkish rug. “The photographer has been looking everywhere for you. We need to cut the cake before the senator gets tired.”
Roman didn't flinch. He walked toward her with a slow, predatory grace that made Tessa’s breath catch. He closed the distance between them, cupped Chloe’s cheek with one hand, and pressed a brief, cold kiss to her temple.
“Tell them I’ll be down in five minutes, sweetheart,” Roman said, his voice smooth and devoid of any warmth. “I was just reviewing a final employment termination with Miss Hayes.”
Chloe’s eyes flicked toward Tessa, narrowing with subtle hostility. For a fraction of a second, the mask slipped, revealing the ruthless operator hidden beneath the silk and diamonds.
“I thought Miss Hayes resigned,” Chloe said, her tone sharpening just enough to reveal her irritation. “I overheard her clearing out her desk earlier today before the guests arrived.”
“She tried,” Roman said smoothly, stepping back so he could keep both women in his field of vision. “Turns out, we had some unfinished business regarding corporate compliance. People who know too much about our shipping ledgers tend to find it difficult to leave the company.”
Chloe forced a delicate laugh, though her fingers twitched against her skirt. “Well, don't keep her too long, darling. The party downstairs is simply divine, and everyone is asking where the groom has disappeared to.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Roman replied.
Chloe lingered for another heartbeat, her gaze darting toward the hidden alcove behind the bookshelf, which had slid back into place just as she opened the door. Satisfied that nothing looked out of the ordinary, she offered a brilliant, plastic smile and turned on her heel, her silk train whispering across the floor as she exited the room.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Roman didn't wait. He turned instantly toward Tessa. “Did you get it?”
Tessa’s fingers danced across the enter key one last time. A green dialogue box popped up on the monitor, accompanied by a soft chime.
“Got it,” she said, her eyes scanning the downloaded records. “Every single transaction, every shell company, and every wire transfer routed from the Swiss bank to Senator Bishop’s reelection campaign over the past three years.”
She clicked a button, saving an encrypted copy onto a small silver flash drive, which she promptly unplugged from the terminal and held up between two fingers.
“And?” Roman asked, stepping closer.
“And,” Tessa said, a victorious smile touching her lips, “we have enough evidence to put both Elena and her adoptive father away for federal securities fraud, money laundering, and conspiracy to commit corporate espionage.”
Roman looked at her, his expression shifting from cold calculation to something entirely different—something warmer, fiercer, and far more dangerous than the war he had been fighting for years.
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“You realize what this means, don't you?” he asked quietly.
“It means we crash the wedding,” Tessa said.
