Chapter 7
The gentle golden warmth of the hotel ballroom suddenly felt like the oppressive heat of an interrogation room. The bright, airy video colors sharply defined the stark contrast between Adrian’s composed, lethal masculinity and Estelle’s frantic, collapsing facade.
"It was just a turn of phrase, Adrian!" Estelle cried out, her voice echoing painfully in the dead silence of the hall. She reached out with trembling hands, desperate to touch his arm, to find the affection she had always easily manipulated. "You know I would never wish harm upon an old woman! I was simply surprised by the tragedy!"
Adrian did not let her touch him. He smoothly shifted his broad shoulders, stepping just out of her reach. His angular face was a mask of cold, unyielding stone. The extremely short, neatly trimmed stubble along his jawline bristled as he clenched his teeth.
"You hated the bakery," Adrian stated slowly, dissecting her motives in front of the entire city's elite. "You complained that my weekly visits to the lower east side were bad for optics. You said a man of my stature shouldn't be seen eating peasant bread."
"That was just PR, Adrian!" Estelle pleaded, tears of genuine terror finally spilling over her rosy cheeks, ruining her flawless makeup. "We are opening a five-star hotel! I just wanted you to elevate your image! I didn't burn the place down!"
"But you knew it was going to burn," Adrian said, the controlled pauses between his words striking like physical blows.
Estelle shook her head frantically, her diamond earrings swinging wildly. "No! I swear to you, I knew nothing about a fire! I am innocent!"
"Lies," a frail voice rasped from the table.
Adrian stopped. He turned his head slightly back toward the chair.
Agnes Miller had lowered the scorched recipe book from her chest. Her wrinkled, soot-stained hands gripped the armrests of the velvet chair. She looked directly at Estelle, her eyes burning with a sudden, fierce clarity.
"Two days ago," Agnes said, her voice shaking but loud enough for the nearby tables to hear. "A man came into my shop. He wore an expensive suit. He offered me a briefcase full of cash to sell the property. He said his employer wanted to bulldoze the block to build a new parking structure for this very hotel."
Adrian’s cold eyes snapped back to Estelle.
"I told him the shop wasn't for sale," Agnes continued, her tears flowing freely now. "I told him it was under the protection of Adrian Kingsley. The man laughed. He said Mr. Kingsley’s fiancée was the one signing the checks, and that she didn't care about protection."
Estelle let out a horrified, breathless gasp. "She's lying! The old bat is senile!"
"Who was the man, Estelle?" Adrian asked, his voice dropping an octave, rumbling deep in his chest. "Who did you hire to threaten my family?"
May you like
"I didn't hire anyone!" Estelle shrieked, backing away until her spine hit the edge of the head table. Her satin evening gown rustled loudly in the terrifyingly quiet room. "I was just exploring real estate options! It was a preliminary inquiry!"
"A preliminary inquiry," Adrian repeated softly, "that ended with accelerant poured across her doors."
