Chapter 3
The bright, airy lighting of the dining hall seemed to sharpen, acting as a high-definition spotlight on the silent tension escalating at the head of the family table. Dante did not move his powerful shoulders. He simply stared at Aurelia, his heavily tattooed hands resting completely still at his sides. The generous negative space of the ink was clearly visible under the warm, golden chandelier light.
He did not smile back at his fiancée. He did not nod in agreement.
The Mafia boss possessed a preternatural ability to read the subtle indicators of deception. He had noticed the way the child looked at Aurelia—not with the casual curiosity of a servant's daughter, but with a deep, terrified longing.
Dante slowly turned his head. The loose strands of slightly wavy hair falling over his forehead cast no shadows in the bright, luminous room, but the sheer gravity of his presence seemed to darken the space immediately surrounding him.
He shifted his cold, terrifyingly perceptive gaze away from Aurelia and looked directly at the beautiful housemaid standing beside his chair.
Fiona held his gaze, her heart plummeting into her stomach. She saw the deeply masculine, lethal power radiating from him, but beneath the cold exterior, she recognized a desperate, unyielding demand for the truth.
“Fiona. Is she yours?”
Dante’s voice was deep, quiet, and impossibly deliberate. The question dropped into the silent, luminous room like a heavy stone into still water.
Every single guest at the massive, crowded table stopped eating and speaking. The melodic hum of polite conversations died completely. Men in expensive formal wear and women in satin gowns turned their heads in unison, their fair, rosy faces locking onto the head of the table. The silence was absolute, heavy with the terrifying realization that the apex predator of their world had just halted his own engagement dinner to interrogate a servant.
Fiona froze. She swallowed hard, the muscles in her throat contracting visibly beneath the crisp white collar of her maid dress. She was entirely exposed beneath the bright, golden glow of the cascading chandeliers, trapped between the man who owned the city and the woman who was about to marry him.
Her inner brows lifted slightly in an expression of helpless, profound empathy for the child clinging to her apron. She looked down at Ruby, then back up into the terrifying, expectant eyes of the Mafia boss.
If she spoke the truth, Aurelia would undoubtedly try to destroy her. But looking into Dante Winslow's eyes, Fiona realized that lying to him carried a far more absolute, fatal consequence.
Fiona’s hand settled protectively over Ruby’s small fingers. She took a shallow, shaky breath, making her choice.
Maintaining direct, unwavering eye contact with Dante, Fiona answered in a fragile, soft voice.
“No.”
The single word shattered the elegant illusion of the evening like a hammer against glass. The bright, clear lighting offered no shadows for lies to hide within.
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“I found her locked up.”
Moisture gathered heavily along Fiona's lower eyelids, her fair, rosy eyes shining with unshed tears in the golden chandelier light. The admission was a quiet, devastating detonation. After speaking, she pressed her lips tightly together, her slender figure bracing as though she had already said something incredibly dangerous, profoundly frightened by what telling him might cost her.
