Skyscrapers and Starlight – The Dragon’s Daughter
By Lea von Löwenstein
Chapter 4: Silk and Steel
Part 1: Morning Light
Manhattan’s dawn painted the Drake penthouse in watercolor hues, sunlight spilling across rumpled silk sheets and discarded evening wear. Alexandra stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, wrapped in Marcus’s dress shirt from the night before, watching the city wake. Her phone buzzed silently with messages from Claire about Global Titan’s latest moves, but for once, she let them wait.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Marcus’s voice rumbled from the doorway. He stood there in low-slung pajama bottoms, hair deliciously mussed, coffee mugs in hand.
“Just admiring the view,” she said, accepting a mug. The ceramic was warm against her palms, like his hands had been last night.
“Liar.” He stepped behind her, free arm wrapping around her waist. “You’ve got that strategic look in your eyes. The one that makes board members cry.”
She leaned back against his chest, feeling his laugh vibrate through her. “Maybe I’m plotting world domination.”
“Before coffee? Ambitious.” His lips found her neck, and she nearly dropped the mug. “Though after yesterday’s performance, I’d believe it.”
“Even the Alexandra Chen part?” The words slipped out before she could catch them.
His grip tightened slightly. “Alex…”
A sharp knock interrupted them. “Mr. Drake? The board’s calling an emergency session. Five minutes.”
Marcus groaned against her shoulder. “Tell them I’m busy worshipping my possibly-delusional, definitely-magnificent wife.”
“I heard that,” she smirked, turning in his arms.
“Good.” He kissed her, tasting of coffee and possibility. “Let them wait.”
But Alexandra was already moving, her mind racing ahead. “Go. Show them what happens when they bet against a Drake.”
He caught her hand, expression suddenly serious. “What happens when they bet against us.”
The way he said ‘us’—like a foundation, like a fortress—made her heart stutter.
“Us,” she agreed softly, and watched him go, his coffee forgotten and cooling on the windowsill.
Behind her, the sun crowned Global Titan’s tower in the distance, its windows blazing like her father’s eyes when he was about to close a deal.
Soon, she thought. Soon they’d all know exactly who they’d tried to break.
Sunlight danced across the Drake penthouse’s breakfast nook as Alexandra scrolled through her phone, picking at her croissant. Marcus sat across from her, the Financial Times forgotten as he watched her expression shift from bored to predatory.
“Oh, this is delicious,” she purred, turning her phone so he could see the headline:
HARRISON-BLACKWOOD MERGER PRESS CONFERENCE: BILLION-DOLLAR DUBAI DEAL SIGNING TODAY
Marcus sipped his espresso. “The Dubai project? That’s what’s got you looking like a cat who found the cream?”
“Remember when I said I was James’s guardian angel?” Her smile could’ve cut diamonds. “Guess who orchestrated that entire Dubai deal through shell companies?”
He nearly choked on his coffee. “You didn’t.”
“I did.” She stood, practically vibrating with mischief. “And guess who’s about to pull all funding right before their big announcement?”
“Alex…” He caught her wrist, torn between amusement and concern. “You’re saying you can torpedo a billion-dollar deal?”
She leaned down, brushing her lips against his ear. “Want to watch me do it in person? The press conference is at noon.”
“You’re terrifying,” he murmured, but his eyes sparkled. “I love it.”
“Good.” She straightened, already mentally cataloguing her wardrobe. “Because I need a new dress. Something that says ‘I’m about to destroy your dreams while looking fabulous.'”
Marcus stood, pulling her close. “Bergdorf’s opens in twenty minutes. Though I have to ask – even if you’re not really Alexandra Chen, how exactly are you planning to—”
She silenced him with a kiss. “Trust me?”
“Against my better judgment? Always.”
“Perfect.” She grabbed her Hermès bag. “Because I’m thinking red. The color of both revenge and rising stock prices.”
As they headed for the elevator, Marcus’s phone buzzed with a news alert about the upcoming press conference. He glanced at Alexandra, who was practically glowing with anticipation.
“You know,” he said, “for someone who might be delusional, you’re remarkably confident.”
Her laugh echoed through the penthouse. “Just wait, husband. The show hasn’t even begun.”
Part 2: The Boutique Battle
The Crystal Galleria at Titan Tower gleamed like a diamond greenhouse, its soaring glass ceiling flooding Chanel’s flagship store with midday light. Alexandra’s fingers trailed over a rack of silk dresses while Marcus answered an urgent call outside. The boutique hummed with old money and older prejudices.
“Oh. My. God.” A familiar voice sliced through the quiet. “Look what the charity bin dragged in.”
Sophia Montgomery stood at the entrance, a cluster of socialites fanning around her like peacock feathers. Her Cartier bracelet caught the light as she gestured dramatically.
“Shopping for your next con, sweetie?” Sophia sashayed closer. “The homeless shelter’s two blocks down.”
The sales associates tittered, their fake smiles sharp as glass.
“I believe,” the manager stepped forward, nose lifted, “this boutique is invitation-only during peak hours.”
Alexandra continued browsing, lifting a crimson Chanel dress that whispered power. “Perfect.”
“Are you deaf?” Sophia snapped. “You can’t afford to breathe in here, let alone—”
“This one too,” Alexandra added a black cocktail dress to her arm, completely ignoring the growing audience.
The manager’s face purpled. “Security will be here any moment to—”
“How dare you ignore me!” Sophia grabbed Alexandra’s arm. “I’m Sophia Montgomery! My family owns half of Manhattan!”
Alexandra finally turned, her smile serene. “How nice for you.”
“You little—” Sophia spluttered. “Do you know who I am?”
“A poor substitute,” Alexandra replied calmly, adding a third dress to her collection.
The boutique erupted in gasps as Sophia raised her hand to slap her.
“That’s a lovely Cartier bracelet,” Alexandra commented, stopping Sophia mid-swing. “Limited edition, right? They only made ten.”
“What would you know about—”
Alexandra reached into her Birkin, extracting a small black card that seemed to absorb light. The diamond chip embedded in its center caught the sun, projecting the Global Titan logo across Sophia’s face.
“I know,” she said softly, “because I have the first one.”
The manager’s face went from purple to white as she recognized the legendary VVIP Black Diamond card—issued only to the Chen family.
Part 3: The Diamond’s Edge
The Chanel boutique crackled with tension as Sophia snatched the Black Diamond card from Alexandra’s hand, her manicured nails leaving scratches.
“This is obviously fake,” she sneered, holding it up to the light. “Just like everything else about you.”
The manager adjusted her Gucci glasses, lips curling. “Security, please verify this… attempted fraud.”
Two guards materialized, their Titan Tower uniforms pristine. The taller one examined the card, frowning. “Ma’am, forgery of Global Titan credentials is a serious offense.”
Alexandra remained perfectly still, a small smile playing at her lips as they radioed for authentication.
“I can’t wait to see you arrested,” Sophia purred, her designer clutch swinging like a weapon. “Maybe they’ll let me visit you in prison.”
The boutique’s staff gathered like vultures, phones ready to capture the impending humiliation. One associate already had Instagram open, hashtag #FakeHeiress typed and waiting.
“The card reader, please,” the manager commanded, her voice dripping with anticipated victory.
The security guard moved toward the verification terminal, Alexandra’s Black Diamond card hovering over the scanner.
“Finally,” Sophia gloated, “everyone will see what a pathetic fraud you—”
“STOP!”
The command thundered through the boutique. Thomas Zhang, Managing Director of Titan Tower, burst through the doors, his face ashen.
“Nobody. Touch. That. Card.”
The security guard froze, card millimeters from the scanner.
Zhang’s voice shook. “Do you have any idea what you’re about to do?”
Sophia rolled her eyes. “Expose a con artist, obviously.”
“No,” Zhang whispered, staring at Alexandra with dawning horror. “You’re about to destroy your careers.”
The card gleamed in the suspended moment, its diamond chip catching the light like a predator’s eye.
The boutique’s crystal chandeliers dimmed automatically as sunset painted Manhattan in amber and rose. The last trembling staff member had retreated, leaving Alexandra and Marcus alone among forests of haute couture.
“You’re plotting something wicked,” he murmured, watching her reflection as she straightened his tie. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“Always.” Her fingers lingered at his collar, electricity sparking where skin met skin. “Scared yet?”
Instead of answering, he spun her around, backing her against the fitting room’s mirrored wall. The glass was cool against her spine, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body.
“Terrified,” he breathed, one hand cupping her face while the other pressed against the small of her back. “And completely enchanted.”
Alexandra’s heart thundered as he traced her lower lip with his thumb. The boutique’s dim lighting cast shadows across his features, turning his eyes to midnight. She could feel his pulse racing beneath her palms as they slid up his chest.
“Marcus…” His name was barely a whisper before his mouth claimed hers.
The kiss was different from their others—deeper, darker, edged with something dangerous. His teeth grazed her lip as she gasped, hands tangling in his hair. She tasted mystery and power and need, felt the tremor in his fingers as they traced her spine. The world dissolved into sensation—the silk of his tie wrapped around her fingers, the heat of his skin through cotton, the way he groaned when she nipped his lower lip.
He pressed closer, trapping her against the mirror, their reflection multiplying infinitely in the boutique’s walls of glass. His tongue swept against hers, tasting of espresso and destiny, as her leg hooked around his hip.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, the sunset had deepened to purple. Alexandra’s lipstick was smeared across his mouth, his tie completely undone.
“Still don’t believe I’m Alexandra Chen?” she whispered against his lips.
He rested his forehead against hers, laughing softly. “Right now, I’d believe you’re the queen of England if you kissed me like that again.”
Outside, Manhattan’s lights began to twinkle like stars, and somewhere in the city, James Harrison was rehearsing his doomed press conference speech.
