Chapter 6 My Knight in Shiny Armor

Barbara's POV

Time froze as I stared at the scene before me. Levi Gardener, my husband of less than 24 hours, stood there like some avenging angel in a tailored suit. "I suggest," he said, his voice glacier-cold, "that you reconsider your actions."

Samson's face contorted with pain as Levi's grip tightened again. "You're breaking my wrist," he gasped, trying to wrench free but failed.

"Am I?" Levi tilted his head, regarding Samson with the detached curiosity of someone observing an insect. "How unfortunate for you."

Isabella recovered from her initial shock and stepped forward with the misplaced confidence. "Who do you think you are? Release him immediately!"

Levi didn't even bother to look at her, his attention fixed on Samson.

"Let go!" Isabella shrieked, her voice climbing several octaves. "Let go of my boyfriend!"

At that, Levi released Samson's wrist as suddenly as if he had been contaminated. In one fluid motion, he stepped sideways, his arm coming around to draw me closer. His warmth seeped through my clothes, and despite everything, I felt a traitorous flutter in my stomach.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his tone still flat but somehow softer.

I shook my head mutely, suddenly aware of how close we were standing.

Isabella wasn't having it. She planted herself in front of us, hands on her hips in a power stance. "Who the hell do you think you are? You can't just barge in and assault people! Do you have any idea who we are?"

Her tone made me want to gag. Two years hadn't changed her one bit, still riding on her family name like it was a golden ticket.

Samson, having recovered enough to recognize his opportunity to play the wounded hero, stepped forward. Then he froze, his eyes widening as recognition dawned on his face. "G-Gardener?" he stammered. "Levi Gardener?"

Isabella's eyes narrowed, then widened dramatically. "You're Levi Gardener!" she gasped, her voice tinged with awe.

The atmosphere shifted like someone had flipped a switch. The confidence drained from Isabella's posture as she stood face-to-face with the CEO of Gardener Group.

I felt a strange sense of satisfaction watching her squirm, even as my own brain struggled to reconcile the fact that I had somehow ended up married to someone who could make Isabella Harlow speechless with a single glance.

Levi's expression didn't change, but the temperature around us seemed to drop several degrees as he fixed Isabella with a freezing stare. "Leave."

The command hung in the air, simple yet impossibly heavy with authority.

But Isabella doubled down. "You can't tell us what to do," she said, her voice wavering slightly despite the brave front. "This is my family's galleria. If anyone should leave, it's you."

Something dangerous flashed in Levi's eyes. The corner of his mouth ticked up in what could barely be called a smile.

"Believe it or not," he said, each word dripping with quiet menace, "this establishment would belong to Gardener Group very soon."

"That's impossible. My father would never—"

Samson lurched forward and grabbed her arm. "We should go," he urged, terror evident on his face. "Isabella, please, we need to leave."

"But he can't just—"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gardener," Samson interrupted, practically bowing. "We'll go immediately."

He dragged Isabella away despite her continued protests. "This isn't over!" she called, her threat falling flat against Levi's indifference.

The crowd that had gathered began to murmur, several people pulling out their phones. Before I could process what was happening, Chandler materialized beside us. "Sir," he said with a slight bow.

"Handle it," Levi replied, not bothering to elaborate.

I watched in fascination as Chandler moved toward the crowd, his presence alone causing people to lower their phones and step back. Whatever he said, the effect was immediate, and the crowd simply dissolved.

I stood there, stunned by the display of power. One minute we were surrounded by gawking onlookers, the next we were practically alone.

"Ma'am? We're leaving."

Chandler's voice jolted me back to reality. I realized that Levi had already started walking away. I practically jogged after him as we left the mall, my shorter strides working overtime to match his purposeful gait.

The ride to the restaurant was silent and tense. When the car pulled up to a nondescript building with only a small plaque reading "Vincenzo's," I almost laughed. The place looked utterly unremarkable, miles away from the glitzy establishments I had expected someone like Levi to frequent.

Levi was already out of the car before Chandler could open our doors. I scrambled after him, half-running to keep up.

"Mr. Gardener!" A young hostess materialized at the door. "Welcome back! Your private room is ready."

Levi nodded once, not breaking stride as the woman led us through a surprisingly elegant interior to a secluded back room. The private dining room was intimate, dominated by a rectangular table already set with elegant tableware.

"Your usual selections are being prepared, Mr. Gardener," the hostess said, bowing slightly before backing out of the room.

I stood awkwardly near the entrance while Levi claimed a chair facing the door. Just as I was about to sit at the farthest chair, Chandler appeared with a tablet. "Sir, this is what you asked for."

Levi scrolled through whatever was on the screen. "Proceed with it. I want the board members contacted individually tonight. Make it clear this is a limited-time offer."

"Yes, sir." Chandler nodded, shooting me a quick glance before disappearing again.

I settled into the chair, watching as dishes began appearing without any orders being placed. "T-thank you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. When Levi didn't respond, I added, "For what you did back there."

He continued tapping at his screen, seemingly oblivious to my existence. I bit my lip, wondering if I had somehow managed to annoy him already.

My mind drifted back to the confrontation at the mall. The shock on Isabella's face when I had slapped her. The hatred in Samson's eyes as he raised his hand. The absolute terror that had gripped me in that moment, knowing I had pushed too far.

Two years ago, you stood frozen while they humiliated you. Today you fought back. But you're still the same pathetic Barbara.

The memory of that day crashed over me like a wave — walking into our apartment early because my class had been canceled, finding them tangled together on our couch. "It was never going to work, Barbs," Samson had said, using the nickname he knew I loved. "She's in my league. You're... well, you tried."

In that moment, he had erased years of late-night study sessions, of encouraging notes left in textbooks, of promises whispered against my skin in the dark. All of it reduced to "you tried."

My chest tightened painfully. Without warning, my eyes began to burn, and I felt the telltale tingle in my nose that always preceded tears. I blinked rapidly, horrified at the thought of crying in front of Levi Gardener, of all people.

"Barbara."

His voice cut through my spiraling thoughts like a knife. I jerked my head up, meeting his gaze across the table.