Page 21 of Adonis: The Cost of a Billionaire's Heart
Once we got into the car, I leaned back against the leather seat while trying to swallow down my insecurities. I couldn’t help but feel like I was stepping into a world that wasn’t created for me. I wrapped my shawl around myself a little tighter, trying to brace myself for the whirlwind of unwanted attention coming my way.
We arrived at the opera house in Manhattan a half an hour later, and my nerves were already shot. The minute I steppedfoot out of the sleek, black sedan, I was instantly swarmed by a hive of flashing lights and camera clicks. They captured every detail of my existence—from my shimmering black gown and the diamond ring wrapped around my finger, to the handsome billionaire on my arm who looked better than a chocolate candy bar in his tailored tuxedo and bowtie.
My insides felt like a lava lamp. I froze for a second, overwhelmed by the instant microscope that had been put on me and my life, until the slight squeeze of my hand from Adonis brought me back around. I held onto his arm, calming myself in the warmth of his presence. The reporters shouted questions at us as we climbed the red-carpeted stairs—“Simora, how does it feel to be engaged to one of the most powerful men in the world?” “Adonis, have you two set a wedding date yet?” “Simora, who will design your gown?”
Adonis ignored every one of them as if he didn’t understand the language they spoke. His focus remained solely on me. “You’re doing great,” he murmured, his baritone voice comforting amid the chaos around us. “Just keep breathing. We’re almost there.”
I admired how Adonis handled the paparazzi. He’d become so accustomed to being watched that he never even made eye contact or reacted to any of the questions being shouted at us. He treated their presence like nothing more than background noise on a TV screen at bedtime. Whatever game they were trying to play with him, in his eyes, he’d already won. So, I decided to do the same. Instead of shrinking into myself, I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and did my best impression of a rich, well-kept woman as we sauntered inside.
The interior of the theater was filled with golden balconies, sparkling chandeliers, and velvet seats that overlooked the grand stage. My fingertips skated absentmindedly over the polished wood of the mahogany staircase, taking it all in as wewalked arm-in-arm to our private box—the vintage but well-kept decor, and the undisputable feeling of old money and status from all the well-dressed attendees. I stole a glance at Adonis, who seemed to be a pro at navigating the brave new world I was still becoming accustomed to. I couldn’t help but notice how good he looked doing it too. He was a Godiva god. A Hershey hunk. A fine-ass Nestle-coated negro.
I followed his lead as we entered our private box, and we took our seats beside the man he intended to do this fifty-million-dollar deal with and his wife, Jeanine. With a receding hairline and salt and pepper hair against his milk chocolate skin, Ellis Garrick looked to be in his late fifties to early sixties. He wore a sharp, charcoal gray suit with a satin black pocket square. With no protruding pot belly, I could tell his physique was still in good shape, which was how he landed his wife, who had to have been at least ten to fifteen years younger than him.
Jeanine was draped in designer and sat with the type of poise that let you know she didn’t run in circles where everyone didn’t make a minimum of six figures. Her complexion was two shades lighter than her husband’s, and she had the kind of physique that came with a pretty price tag.
“Adonis, I was wondering if you’d make it through the mob of paparazzi alive.” Ellis greeted him with a pat on the back before shaking his hand.
Adonis returned the gesture with a sly smile. “Always.”
Mr. Garrick eyed me with a grin. “I suspect it’s this new mysterious beauty on your arm that’s causing all of the fuss out there.”
Adonis nodded as he rested his hand gently on the small of my back. “Garrick, I’d like to introduce you to someone special. This is Simora Campbell, my fiancée.”
I extended my hand with a kind smile. “Hello. It’s a pleasure to put a face with a name, finally. D talks about you all the time.”
“All good things, I hope,” he said, gripping my hand and giving it a firm shake.
“Of course, although I will say I pictured someone older. You don’t look a day over fifty,” I complimented him.
Had it not been for the telltale sign of aging in his hair, I wouldn’t have been lying . . . much.
Ellis chuckled with amused arrogance. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, young lady. And congratulations to you both. Adonis, I’m not sure how you managed to sneak this one past me over the last few months we’ve been in negotiations.”
Adonis dipped his chin. “Yes. We’ve been dating for six months, enjoying our privacy and getting to know one another. You know how things can go when the media gets involved. But after I popped the question, I knew things would get out eventually, so we decided to control the narrative as much as we could and put it out there on our terms. And before you ask, it wasn’t a completely spur-of-the-moment proposal. I’ve been planning to make her mine since the first time I saw her.”
He gripped my hand, and a chill ran down my spine.
Jeanine gasped and clasped her hands together. “How romantic. Can I see your ring?”
“Of course,” I acknowledged with a nod before extending my left hand to her.
Adonis casually rested his hand around my waist. “It’s like my father always told me, when you know, you know.”
“Wise words from a wise man.” Garrick agreed with a nod. “Please, you two, have a seat. Let’s be the first to toast to the bride- and groom-to-be.”
I settled at Adonis’s side, listening to the murmurs of audience conversation below fuse with the far-off tuning of the orchestra in the pit. Our seats were positioned for the perfect view of the stage below. Ellis popped open the bottle ofexpensive champagne chilling inside a silver ice bucket and filled our flutes to the rim with bubbles that tickled my nose.
He raised his glass to Adonis and me. “To the bride and groom, may you have the type of bond that lasts forever.”
“Here, here.”
Soon, the lights dimmed, the curtains of our box closed behind us, the overture began, and all hushed conversations paused. Throughout the first act, I watched Adonis navigate the business exchange with the same precision as the conductor guiding the orchestra and the singers on stage performing in Italian—every whispered syllable that fell off his tongue was deliberate, and every nod or gesture premeditated.
I’d always known the hermit that sat at the top of Holland Enterprises was powerful, but witnessing him negotiate firsthand was something completely different. Somehow, he’d made sure the night wasn’t just about the tragic love story behind the opera—it was about building something that stretched far beyond the walls of our private box.
By the time the intermission came around, I could tell Ellis was picking up precisely what Adonis was putting down. His approach wasn’t aggressive. It was subtle, like a light drizzle on a spring day—carefully laced into the flow of the night as if he’d already known exactly how the evening would play out.
After refilling his glass of champagne, Adonis leaned in to check on me. “How are you feeling?” he whispered, handing me a tiny pair of fancy binoculars.
