A Toast to a Stranger

The news of Blair Vanderbilt's downfall broke while I was in Felix's arms, picking out matching Patek Philippe watches for our wedding on Fifth Avenue.

Every corner of New York society was buzzing, reveling in the fall of the Upper East Side's fallen princess.

I tilted my head, kissing the sharp line of his jaw. "Shouldn't the great Wolf of Wall Street play savior?" I teased.

He toyed with my fingers, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "The market doesn't do pity. What am I supposed to do? Darling, you know I'm no sentimental fool."

I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. His pride wouldn't allow him to circle back to a woman whose family had once deemed him unworthy.

I slipped away to the VIP lounge for a fresh glass of champagne. When I returned, Felix was on the terrace, his back to me, smoke curling from his fingertips.

A strange, sickening curiosity compelled me. I picked up the phone he’d left on the sofa.

A notification from a private wealth management app glowed on the screen:

[A withdrawal of $10,000,000 has been processed. Memo: Vanderbilt Hamptons Estate.]

The phone's cold light sliced into my eyes like a scalpel.

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1

"What's got you so captivated?"

A deep voice, laced with the roughness of a recent cigarette, came from right behind me.

My fingers went rigid. The numbers on the screen burned into my retinas.

A few seconds later, I calmly hit the lock button and placed the phone face down on the sofa cushion.

"Nothing."

I turned to face him.

A flicker of turmoil darted through his eyes, but the moment they met mine, it was expertly concealed behind a familiar warmth.

"Just looking at the schedule for my fitting tomorrow," I said smoothly.

Felix casually stubbed out his cigarette in a crystal ashtray and strode toward me.

He brought the scent of expensive tobacco and the autumn chill with him, pulling me into his embrace.

"Let the assistants handle the small stuff." His chin rested on my head, and he nuzzled my hair in a familiar, comforting gesture. "I'll clear my schedule tomorrow. Cancel my calls. The whole day, just for you."

I leaned against his warm chest, listening to the steady, even rhythm of his heart.

The question—What about the ten million dollars?—lodged in my throat like a shard of glass.

I closed my eyes and swallowed it down, burying the question along with the last five years of my life.

"Okay," I whispered.

The next morning, a light drizzle fell over Manhattan.

For the first time in ages, Felix skipped his morning overseas conference call. Instead, he sat across from me, meticulously peeling a hard-boiled egg and placing it on my plate.

When we arrived at the Vera Wang private couture salon on Fifth Avenue, the head designer and her team were already waiting by the door.

"Ms. Hayes, the three gowns you ordered have all been flown in."

I was ushered into the VIP dressing room.

Felix settled onto a velvet sofa, casually flipping through an issue of Vogue.

"Go on, try them on. I'll be right here," he said with a tender smile, his eyes warm with what looked like adoration.

The first was an intricate French-beaded gown with a sweeping train.

The process was long, with several assistants carefully lacing the satin ribbons at my waist.

Just as I was about to slip on the starlight diamond veil, a cell phone rang sharply from the main salon.

Through the half-open curtain of the fitting room, I saw Felix shoot to his feet.

The magazine slipped from his lap, unnoticed, as he stalked to the window, his back ramrod straight, shielding the phone as he spoke in a hushed tone.

By the time I emerged from the fitting room, gathering the heavy skirt in my hands, he was already shrugging into the Armani suit jacket he’d draped over a chair.

"Felix?" I called out softly.

He turned, his gaze sweeping over me for a fraction of a second.

Not a flicker of awe, not a word of praise. Just a raw, unconcealed agitation.

"An M&A deal just blew up." He was already heading for the door, buttoning his jacket. He didn’t even offer a parting hug.

"I'll go handle it and be right back. Pick whichever one you love. Just put it on the black card."

With a soft click, the door to the VIP room closed, and he was gone.