“Hold still!” Grace shrieked,she’s one of the agents assigned for my makeup and so far I like her.
And now she’s bending under a rack of dark velvet dresses with a hot glue gun in one hand and a bottle of extra-hold hairspray in the other.
“If this lace-front lifts on live television, Victoria Vance is going to host a national holiday to celebrate our demise!” Lawd if anyone ever want to test how fast a human heart can beat before it officially detaches from your chest, try getting ready for a live, international press conference in a luxury hotel suite with thirty minutes on the clock.
“I am holding still!” I yelled back, standing in the middle of the dressing room at the Grand Plaza Hotel in my custom black silk jumpsuit, three strands of South Sea pearls, and five-inch Italian heels that felt like they were actively trying to break my ankles.
” oh grace if she sprays one more chemical near my eyes, I will use my Monaco accent to fire your entire bloodline!” “Grace step back!” Beatrice ordered, taking the hairspray and blasting my silver-blonde wig until it was so stiff a hurricane couldn’t move a single hair.
“There!
Official Bulletproof!” I looked in the full-length mirror.
Standing there wasn’t twenty-two-year-old Roxie Fox, the broke drama student who used to count coin change for instant noodles.
Standing there was Lady Sterling: radiant, terrifying, outrageously wealthy, and ready to make grown corporate executives cry on national television.
Okay, Roxie, I told myself, while taking a deep breath that almost popped off a button on my jacket.
You survived the board, and you survived the spa.
You can surely handle five hundred reporters with big cameras.
Shortly after the doors of the dressing room clicked open, and the temperature in the room instantly dropped by ten degrees.
Julian walked in.
Holy Mary!
If he looked dangerous in his study last night, right now he looked like an absolute weapon.
He was wearing a tailor-made charcoal three-piece suit, his dark tie pulled tight against a crisp looking white shirt, his broad shoulders literally filled out the doorway like a wall.
Goodness!!
The cold, ruthless CEO energy radiating off him was so intense that two hair stylists instinctively backed away toward the catering table.
And his eyes just swept over the chaotic room, past the fallen garment bags and discarded makeup sponges, until they locked straight onto me.
O.
M .
Geee .
For a fraction of second, that icy, stone-cold expression on his sharp face cracked, replaced by a low, dangerous flicker of pure focus that made my stomach do a frantic backflip and K-pop dance.
“Are we ready?” Julian asked, his deep voice rumbling through the room.
“We are ready, CEO,” I rasped out in my thickest, most insufferable European drawl, adjusting my giant black Chanel sunglasses.
“Though your niece almost blinded me with hair product.
I expect a bonus in my offshore account for pain and suffering.” Julian stepped closer, his tall body completely blocking out the bright ring lights behind me.
He reached out, his long fingers adjusting the collar of my silk jumpsuit, his knuckles brushing against my collarbone just long enough to send a wave of electric heat straight down my spine.
Ohh please keep doing that .
“No mistakes today, Miss Fox,” he whispered, his head dipping close enough that his deep voice echoed in my chest.
The network has three cameras focused directly on your face Mrs Sterling.
So when we walk out there, you are the most powerful woman in this city.” “I am always the most powerful woman in the room, Julian,” I murmured back, looking straight into his dark eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my hands shake.
“Don’t forget who taught you how to command a crowd.” Julian’s lips twitched into a sharp, razor-thin smirk.
“Walk beside me.” The main ballroom of the Grand Plaza Hotel was a complete zoo.
Lawd!
There were at least two hundred journalists crammed behind velvet ropes like sardine, while bright television lights blinding enough to roast a chicken, and a sea of camera flashes going off like fireworks.
Sitting in the front row, looking like she’d been forced to eat a bowl of needles, was Victoria Vance, flanked by three senior members of the Sterling Global board of directors.
The second Julian led me through the side doors toward the raised stage, the room exploded.
“Mr.
Sterling!
Over here!” “Lady Sterling!
Is it true you’ve been living in Monaco for the last decade?!” “How does the board feel about your sudden return to Sterling Global?!” “Smile, mother,” Julian murmured under his breath, his hand coming up to rest firmly on the small of my back.
His touch was warm, solid, and so possessively steady that it practically grounded my fluttering heart.
“I am smiling, darling,” I hissed back through my brilliant white teeth as we took our places behind the crystal podium.
“I am also currently plotting how to buy that loud reporter’s news company and replace him with a farm animal.” Julian let out a quiet, dark laugh that vibrated against my shoulder, turning to face the wall of flashing cameras.
He gripped the edges of the podium, his posture radiating pure, terrifying authority.
The entire room instantly fell dead silent.
When Julian Sterling wanted a room to shut up, people didn’t even dare to breathe loud.
“Thank you all for coming,” Julian began, his deep voice echoing crisply through the room’s sound system.
“Over the past forty-eight hours, there have been several ridiculous rumors circulating regarding my family, my board authority, and the presence of my adoptive mother, Lady Sterling.” He paused, his dark eyes slowly scanning the crowd until they landed squarely on Victoria Vance in the front row.
Victoria stiffened, pulling her silk scarf tighter around her neck.
“Let me make one thing abundantly clear,” Julian continued, his tone turning into pure steel.
“Lady Sterling is not a temporary guest.
She has officially assumed a permanent executive seat on the board of directors.
Any attempt by rival conglomerates—or desperate individuals—to question her authority will be met with immediate legal and financial retaliation.” The reporters went wild, shouting questions all at once, but I didn’t wait for Julian to answer them.
It was time for the stage magic.
I stepped forward, gently placing my lace-gloved hand over Julian’s on the podium.
I felt his fingers instantly react, closing tightly around mine, anchoring me in place.
“Please, quiet down, children,” I rasped out into the microphone, my European drawl filling the entire ballroom with arrogant grace.
“You are making my head ache with all this yelling.
Is this how American press operates?
How remarkably uncivilized.” A collective gasp rippled through the front row of reporters.
“Lady Sterling!” a sharp-looking female journalist called out from the center aisle.
“Word on Wall Street is that your return was staged to block Richard Montgomery’s takeover!
How do you respond to claims that your family dynamic is just a corporate shield?!” I slowly lowered my dark Chanel sunglasses to the tip of my nose, glaring down at her with pure disdain.
“Darling,” I said, waving my free hand in the air like I was brushing away a dusty moth, “Richard Montgomery couldn’t take over a lemonade stand without losing his shoe in the process.
My son does not need a shield.
He has me.
And if anyone in this city thinks they can step between Julian and his empire…” I paused, turning my head to look directly up at Julian.
He was looking down at me, his jawline tight, his eyes burning with an intensity so thick and heavy it felt like the rest of the ballroom had completely vanished.
“…they will have to go through me first,” I finished softly, my voice carrying straight into the main microphone.
For three long seconds, the ballroom was dead quiet.
Then, Julian executed a masterclass in media manipulation.
He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me firmly against his side in front of every live camera in the city.
He bent his head down, his jaw brushing against my temple, planting a firm, protective kiss right against my hair.
It was a calculated display of absolute family loyalty—and the media swallowed it whole.
The camera flashes went completely blinding.
The room erupted into absolute chaos.
“We’re done here,” Julian announced coldly into the mic, guiding me off the stage toward the private VIP exit, completely ignoring the screaming reporters behind us.
The heavy soundproof doors clicked shut behind us, cutting off the noise of the press conference instantly.
We were standing in a quiet, dimly lit private hallway behind the stage.
I reeled back, clutching my chest, my heart pounding so violently against my ribs I thought I was going to pass out right there on the carpet.
“Julian!” I squeaked, my Monaco accent flying out the window as I stared up at him.
“What was that?!
That kiss wasn’t in the rehearsal!
You almost made me drop my dark glasses on live television!” Julian stepped closer, backing me up against the velvet-covered wall of the hallway.
The cold CEO mask was back, but his eyes were dark with a quiet, intense focus.
“It crushed the rumors instantly,” Julian murmured, his deep voice rough and low in the quiet space.
He reached out, his long fingers cupping my chin, lifting my face toward his.
“Look at the monitor, Roxie.” I glanced past his broad shoulder at the backstage television monitor hanging on the wall.
The live news feed was replaying the moment Julian kissed my temple on stage, with huge red headlines scrolling across the screen: BREAKING NEWS: LADY STERLING LOCKS DOWN STERLING GLOBAL BOARD—VALUATION SOARS BY 12% IN TEN MINUTES.
“See?” Julian whispered, his thumb resting lightly against my pulse point, feeling the rapid, chaotic thrum beneath my skin.
“You’re a viral sensation, Lady Sterling.” “I…
I am an underpaid drama major,” I stammered, my breathing completely wrecked as he stayed inches away from me.
“You owe me a vacation.
Somewhere with no cameras.
And no wigs.” “Granted,” Julian rumbled, his dark eyes dropping to my lips for a second before snapping back to mine.
“Once we eliminate Montgomery.” Before I could reply, Chloe came sprinting down the hallway holding a tablet, her face pale as a sheet.
“Uncle Julian!
Mother Chloe gasped, stopping dead in her tracks.
“We have a shocking news!” Julian slowly turned, stepping between Chloe and me, his expression returning to that icy corporate glare.
“What is it?” Chloe held up the tablet screen, her hands shaking.
“The press conference worked,and now after our press conference shattered the local stock market records, Richard Montgomery didn’t file a lawsuit nor did he issue a corporate statement.
the man had the absolute nerve to send a hand-delivered, gold-embossed invitation to the grand reopening of the Skyview Club—the most exclusive, outrageously expensive rooftop lounge in the city.And he’s inviting mother!
(ಥ﹏ಥ) Julian’s calculated power move on stage just sent Sterling Global’s valuation soaring by 12%, but Richard Montgomery isn’t going down without a fight.
Can Roxie act her way out of an official board trial, or is the fake matriarch scheme about to crumble?