Chapter 6
The cascading crystal chandeliers seemed to burn brighter in the empty, echoing hall. The absence of the guests left a hollow, ringing silence, broken only by the erratic, heavy breathing of Camille Sloane. She stood opposite Dorian, her sculpted silk gown suddenly looking less like a symbol of power and more like a fragile cage.
"You are throwing away an alliance that secures the entire eastern seaboard!" Camille yelled, desperately trying to reclaim the high ground. "My family controls the ports! You need me, Dorian!"
"Do I look like a man who negotiates with those who threaten my blood?" Dorian asked, his hands resting casually on the back of Maisie's chair. His refined artistic tattoos flexed in the warm golden light.
"She is a child!" Camille scoffed, pointing a manicured finger at Maisie, though her hand trembled violently. "She will forget about tonight by tomorrow! You are making a massive mistake over a trivial misunderstanding!"
"Is psychological manipulation a trivial matter in your household?" Dorian asked, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper.
He stepped away from Maisie’s chair and began to walk slowly around the table. His polished leather shoes made no sound on the thick rugs.
Cora instinctively stepped closer to Maisie. The housemaid’s elegant, slender figure was a stark contrast to the imposing, deeply masculine frame of the mafia boss, but her courage matched his stride. She knelt beside the little girl, her cleanly tied white apron folding perfectly as she wrapped an arm around Maisie’s trembling shoulders.
"It's going to be okay, sweetie," Cora whispered, her softly oval face close to Maisie’s. "You are safe."
Dorian paused his slow march and looked down at the housemaid. "Has she ever spoken to Maisie this way before, Cora?"
Cora looked up, her expressive brows drawing together. She met Camille’s furious, threatening glare across the room, but she did not back down. "Yes, sir," Cora answered, her voice steady. "She frequently tells Maisie that her presence is an inconvenience. She instructed the staff to keep her confined to the nursery whenever she visits."
"You lying little servant!" Camille shrieked, taking a step toward Cora. "I will have you fired! I will have you destroyed!"
"Will you destroy her before or after you leave my property?" Dorian asked, stepping directly into Camille’s path.
He towered over her, his angular face a mask of absolute, unyielding coldness. Camille stopped dead in her tracks, her fair, rosy skin draining to a sickly pallor. The intoxicating illusion of her control evaporated instantly under the shadow of his high-bridged nose and perceptive eyes.
"Dorian... please," Camille stammered, the reality of her situation finally crashing down. "I love you. I just wanted us to be happy."
"Can a foundation built on cruelty support a marriage?" Dorian asked.
He reached into the inner pocket of his three-piece suit. "Are you capable of finding your own way to the door, or shall I have my men escort you?"
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"My father will not let this stand," Camille warned, a vicious, venomous edge returning to her voice as she realized the engagement was truly over. "You have just started a war."
"Have I ever lost one?" Dorian asked quietly.
