The stained glass of St. Patrick's Cathedral refracted a halo of light in the afternoon sunlight, the bass of the pipe organ trembled the marble floor, but it did not drive away the eerie atmosphere in the air.Grayson Cole stood in front of the altar, his custom-made Armani suit lined with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, platinum cufflinks glowed coldly under the light, and the face that had been hailed by the financial magazines as the "sharpest silhouette of Wall Street" was now only a glacial indifference.
"Try not to act like you want to strangle me in front of the camera." He turned his face to the side and spoke to his bride, Sienna Monroe, in a voice that only two people could hear. The tone was soft, but commanding, as if they were signing a business contract-which they were, in fact, fulfilling at the moment, was more complicated than a contract.
Sienna's eyes were downcast, the pearl neckline of her Valentino wedding dress revealing the white skin of her neck. When she looked up, her long lashes cast fan shadows under her eyelids, and her hazel pupils reflected Grayson's cold, hard jaw, "Then try not to act like you're helping an enemy conduct a funeral, Mr. Cole." Her voice trailed off with the languid lilt characteristic of New York's Upper East Side, but revealed a pinprick of sharpness at the end.
The limelight rained down to record the wedding of the century for the "new CEO of Empire Group and the mysterious new intern." What no one knows is that the wedding, which graces the front page of the Wall Street Journal, is a deal that is being maneuvered behind the scenes by the board of directors of Empire Group. When Grayson's hand presses down on Sienna's waist, she can feel the tense muscles beneath his suit, a sign of a permanent state of alert.
"Smile, Ms. Monroe." Grayson's fingertips applied slight pressure to the side of her waist, "You're Mrs. Cole now, not a witness awaiting trial."
"Depends on who's trying me." She curled her lips into a standard social smile, but her gaze fell over his shoulder to the entrance to the ballroom-her adoptive father, Lawrence Monroe, was whispering to Edward Thompson, the chairman of the board of directors, both of them with wry smiles on their faces. The smiles were like ice picks piercing the depths of Sienna's memory: the same two men who, ten years ago, had taken over the Monroe family trust after her parents' plane crash, stripped her of her Wall Street heirship, and thrown her into a Connecticut boarding school.
"It seems your adoptive father was pleased with the union." Grayson followed her gaze, sarcasm in his tone, "After all, he's finally dumped your baggage on the Empire Group."
Sienna turned to look at him, her lashes fluttering slightly in the glare, "As do we, Mr. Cole. At least Lawrence didn't push me into the CEO chair disguised as a business whiz." She deliberately emphasized the word "disguised," watching for a flash of caution in the depths of his pupils.
The organ played the final movement of the wedding march, and Grayson reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist in a gesture that looked as if he'd rehearsed it a thousand times. As they walked side by side down the aisle, Sienna caught a whiff of his crisp cedar scent mixed with the faintest hint of nitrous--a secret agent's cologne she'd smelled in her father's old study. This discovery made her heart skip a beat, but she still maintained a decent smile on her face.
Grayson had just removed Sienna's gloves when he was surrounded by a group of suited executives in the ballroom of the Pierre Hotel, next to Central Park, where crystal chandeliers cascaded like the Milky Way and waiters carried champagne towers among the guests.
"Grayson, congratulations on your win!" Mark Thompson, the marketing director, patted him on the back, but his eyes darted to Sienna, "This is Sienna, isn't it? She's just as beautiful as the rumors say she is." Sienna noticed Mark's unruly gaze and felt a twinge of disgust in her heart, but still maintained a decent smile. She could feel Grayson's aura getting colder and colder, as if he was about to explode in the next second, and this subtle change in atmosphere caused the executives around her to unconsciously exchange a few meaningful glances.
Sienna held out her hand, her nails rounded and smooth: "Thank you, Mr. Thompson. I hope to have your attention in the marketing department in the future." She deliberately played the role of a shy new intern, but she caught a glimpse of Grayson's mouth curling into an unnoticeable sneer.
"Care is natural." Mark's hand lingered in her palm for a couple of seconds longer, "But Mrs. Cole is now the mistress of our Empire Group, so there's no need for her to work at the grassroots level."
"Mark," Grayson's voice cooled abruptly, pulling Sienna's hand out of Mark's palm, "I don't need you to worry about my wife's career plans." His movements carried an irresistible possessiveness that cooled the air around him instantly.
Sienna raised a dark eyebrow at Grayson's posture as he shielded her from him. The paradox of a man who was clearly wary of her, yet displayed a surprising amount of protectiveness when necessary, made her even more curious about his true intentions.
"Looks like the groom is jealous." There was a chuckle from the crowd as Sophia Martinez, the public relations director, approached with champagne, her red fishtail skirt framing her curves, but her eyes fixed on Sienna like a viper, "Grayson, you've never been this nervous about any of your female companions."
Grayson took the champagne, his tone flat, "Sophia, behave yourself."
Sophia's smile faltered for a moment, then she turned to Sienna and said in a sweet, cloying tone, "Sienna, I envy you, Grayson is the most valuable bachelor in New York." Her fingertips traced the cuffs of Grayson's suit, "But be careful, his schedule is more complicated than a Wall Street K-chart."
Sienna met her gaze with a warm but sharp smile, "Thank you for the warning, Ms. Martinez. But I'm sure that even the most complicated schedule can find gaps if one is intentional. For example ... tonight?" She glances sideways at Grayson, a sly provocation in her eyes.
Grayson's fingers tightened around his champagne glass, the amber-colored liquid sloshing gently in the glass. He hadn't expected this seemingly soft woman to dare flirt with him in public, much less pretend that the ambiguity in her tone could be so natural.
"It seems Mrs. Cole is looking forward to her wedding night." Edward Thompson's voice came from behind the crowd, leaning on his carved cane, his silver-gray eyebrows raised, "Grayson, don't disappoint your bride."
A low chuckle rings out around them as Grayson puts down his glass with a grimace and takes Sienna's hand, "Excuse me for a moment."
He practically half-dragged her toward the terrace, the evening breeze carrying the scent of Central Park grasses and trees, dispersing the false enthusiasm of the ballroom, and Sienna wrenched her hand away from his and leaned back against the marble railing, looking down at the traffic on Fifth Avenue.
"Having fun with the show?" Grayson's voice sounded behind her with suppressed anger.
"Same to each other." Sienna turned, the moonlight falling on her face, gilding her soft contours with a silver rim, "It's a shame Mr. Cole didn't go into movies with that protective look he just gave me."
"Put away your little tricks, Sienna," Grayson took a step closer, the pressure so strong that she had to look up at him, "I don't care what your deal is with Lawrence, remember who you are -- you're my contracted wife, and that's it."
"I remember it well." She stood slightly on her tiptoes, the tip of her nose almost touching his chin, "Just as I remember that your vengeance is not on me, but on ..." She deliberately paused, observing the momentary tensing of his jaw.
Grayson's eyes snapped cold, like a Siberian chill, "You know about writing things?"
"I don't know much." Sienna took a half step back and pulled her cell phone out of her handbag, a new email showing on the screen, "But I do know that Lawrence Monroe is going to lose what he values most after tonight." She turned the screen of her cell phone toward him, and on it was a real-time chart of Empire Group stock, the green curve slipping eerily.
Grayson's pupils constricted violently as he snatched up the phone, and what was on the screen made him grimace. This was no ordinary stock market fluctuation, but a premeditated and malicious shorting, with a ruthless approach and a clear target -- directly targeting Lawrence's hands on the shares of Empire Group.
"You did this?" He grabbed Sienna's wrist with such force that she felt pain.
"Me?" Sienna drew her hand back and rubbed her reddened wrist, "I'm just a new intern, I'm not that good. But Mr. Cole," she looked up at him with a knowing knowingness in her eyes, "you better pray that this shorting has nothing to do with your revenge plan, or else ..."
"Or else what?" Grayson stepped closer to her, less than ten centimeters between them, and he could smell the faint scent of gardenias in her hair, a scent that contrasted strikingly with the sharpness in her eyes at the moment.
"Otherwise," Sienna raised her chin slightly, her warm breath brushing the corners of his lips, "you'll find that you're dealing with someone far more complex and powerful than you thought."
Her words were like a stone thrown into a frozen lake, sending ripples through Grayson's heart. This woman was definitely not as simple as she appeared to be, not only did she know about his revenge plan, she might even be laying it out in secret.
"Who the hell are you?" Grayson's voice was low and raspy with unprecedented tension.
Sienna didn't answer, just gently pushed him away and straightened her skirt, "It's getting late, Mr. Cole. It's time for us to get back to playing the loving couple." She turned and walked towards the ballroom, the sound of her heels hitting the floor crisp and firm, as if announcing the start of a chess game.
Grayson stood on the terrace and watched her back disappear into the golden portico, the cell phone in his hand still refreshing with news of the plummeting stock price. He took out the encrypted cell phone hidden in the inside pocket of his suit and quickly edited a message, "Check Sienna Monroe's entire background, with a focus on her connection to the Monroe Family Trust. Also, find out who's behind the drop in Empire Group's stock price tonight."
Sending it off, he put the phone back where it belonged, straightened his tie, and resumed wearing the icy CEO mask. Tonight's wedding was just the beginning, the war between him and Sienna had just begun. What he didn't know was that in this game played in the name of revenge, he had long since fallen into a larger chess game, and the chess player was the very "intern" in his eyes who needed to be controlled.
When Grayson returns to the ballroom, Sienna is surrounded by a group of celebrities who chatter about the details of the wedding, all the while smiling and responding appropriately. It wasn't until her eyes met Grayson's that a hint of provocation flickered in that smile that only he could read.
"It seems my bride is quite popular." Grayson stepped forward and naturally wrapped his arms around Sienna's waist, nodding his head in greeting to the celebrities around him.
"Mr. Cole is finally willing to come back." Sienna looks up at him with eyes so soft they could drip, "I thought you'd been abducted by some beautiful woman."
Good-natured laughter rings around them as Grayson looks down at her and whispers in her ear, "Don't worry, no one's going to kidnap me -- except my bride." His voice had an imperceptible hint of magnetism that made Sienna's heart beat inexplicably faster.
She knew it was just an act, but she couldn't help but dwell on the concentration in his eyes at the moment. The man was like an iceberg, but the occasional hint of warmth was enough to mesmerize.
"It's getting late, we should get going." Grayson signaled to the crowd and led Sienna by the hand towards the exit.
The Bentley was waiting in front of the hotel and the driver opened the door respectfully, Grayson helped Sienna into the back seat and followed him. The smell of leather and sandalwood permeated the interior of the car, isolating it from the hustle and bustle outside.
"Now can you tell me what the hell you're playing at?" Grayson's tone immediately resumed its icy chill the moment the car door closed.
Sienna leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, "I'm tired, Mr. Cole. Let's talk about what's going on tomorrow."
Grayson looked at the side of her tired face as the moonlight poured through the car window, tracing soft lines on her face. He had never seen a woman so conflicted, sometimes like a thorny rose, sometimes like a fragile glaze, sometimes like a meek lamb.
The car drove into Central Park West Avenue, the mansions on both sides stood silent in the night, Grayson's cell phone vibrated, it was a message from his deputy Liam: "Got it, Sienna Monroe's trust fund is under the care of Lawrence Monroe, but the list of beneficiaries shows that her real mother is... ..."
The information was only half displayed, but Grayson's face instantly became extremely ugly. He jerked his head towards Sienna beside him and realized that she had opened her eyes at some point and was looking at him with a smirk on her face.
"It seems that Mr. Cole has found something interesting?" Her voice held a hint of lazy laughter, but it sent a chill down Grayson's spine.
This woman, indeed, was harboring a shocking secret. And his plan for revenge was not destined to be that simple from the start.