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Merciless

Page 56

by Helen Hardt

I can’t describe it any better than that.

Someone takes the seat on my other side.

Someone in a black tuxedo. White shirt. Dark hair a bit unruly and a stubbled jaw. Gold cufflinks that catch the candlelight.

Nathaniel Vexley.

He’s here.

And he’s sitting next to me.

16

NATHANIEL

I saw her before. On the hidden security camera in my father’s office.

She was gorgeous. Magnificent.

But the camera lied.

Not by exaggerating.

By diminishing.

Nothing about that distant image prepared me for the reality of her sitting beside me.

Ella Hart is beautiful.

Not pretty.

Not charming.

Beautiful.

Stunning, actually, though even that word is too weak. Too common. Too much like something a man says because he has no better language for what’s happening inside me right now.

Her hair is swept up loosely with blond pieces falling around her face. Her makeup is exactly what I asked for. Soft. Polished. Not overdone. Her skin glows in the candlelight. Her eyes look larger, bluer, more captivating somehow.

And the dress.

Christ.

The silver sheath fits her with an intimacy that makes me curl my fingers against the edge of my chair. And that neckline… The perfect amount of cleavage shows as the silver wraps perfectly around her ample tits.

Matteo, Simone, and Hazel will be getting handsome bonuses.

They worked fucking magic. Though Ella was pretty awesome raw material to work with.

I force my gaze away from Ella and look around the room. The ballroom glitters with wealth, vanity, and powerful people pretending to care about our stated cause. The women are respectable, expensively dressed, and frumpy in the specific way only rich women can manage. Layers of silk. Heavy jewelry. Hair set too stiffly. Faces pulled tight by money and fear of time.

Not much competition here. But even if there were, Ella would win hands down.

She sits with her hands in her lap, posture careful, chin lifted just enough and her smile small and polite.

Quenton Stanley sits on her other side.

He looks pleased with himself. He has the satisfied air of a man who can have what he wants just by snapping his fingers. He looks at Ella a lot, his gaze dragging over her in a way that makes me want to pummel him into next week.