Chapter 7
The heavy walnut doors of the dining room slammed shut behind Camille, the sound echoing through the mansion like a gunshot. The oppressive tension that had choked the room finally began to dissipate, leaving the bright, luminous space feeling suddenly vast and empty.
Dorian stood silently for a moment, listening to the sharp clicking of Camille’s heels fading rapidly down the marble hallway. He adjusted the cuffs of his tailored suit, his broad shoulders relaxing imperceptibly. He turned his attention back to the table.
Maisie was still sitting in her chair, her small hands clutching the edge of the cream damask tablecloth. Cora remained kneeling beside her, her sophisticated black maid dress pooling elegantly on the rug. The housemaid was gently stroking the little girl's hair, her delicate cheekbones illuminated by the flickering ivory candles.
"Are you unharmed, Maisie?" Dorian asked, his deep voice softening significantly as he approached them.
Maisie looked up, her eyes wide and searching. "She's not coming back, Daddy?"
"Would I ever allow someone to hurt you twice?" Dorian asked, kneeling down so that he was eye-level with his daughter.
Maisie threw her arms around Dorian’s neck, burying her face in the crisp fabric of his suit. Dorian closed his eyes, his powerful arms wrapping fiercely around the small child. For a fleeting moment, the cold, ruthless mafia boss vanished, replaced entirely by a desperately protective father.
Cora watched them, a soft, genuine smile touching her lips. She began to rise, intending to give them privacy and return to her duties in the kitchen.
"Where are you going, Cora?" Dorian asked, opening his eyes and looking directly at her.
Cora paused, her white cuffs catching the warm golden light. "I should help the staff clear the tables, Mr. Hale. The caterers will need assistance packing away the silver."
"Do the caterers require the assistance of the only person who showed true loyalty in this room tonight?" Dorian asked, standing up while keeping one hand gently on Maisie’s shoulder.
Cora’s fair skin flushed a beautiful, rosy hue. "I was only doing my job, sir."
"Is protecting my daughter from a psychological assault part of your job description?" Dorian asked, his perceptive eyes studying the elegant, polished woman before him.
"No, sir," Cora admitted softly. "But it is what any decent person would do."
"Do you believe decency is a common trait in my world?" Dorian asked, a cynical edge returning to his low voice. He gestured toward the empty chairs where the elite guests had sat. "Thirty people watched her manipulate a child, and not one of them spoke. Except you."
"They were afraid of her, sir," Cora replied. "And they are afraid of you."
"Are you afraid of me, Cora?" Dorian asked, taking a slow step toward her.
Cora held his gaze. Her heart fluttered against her ribs, but she did not step back. She looked at his extremely short stubble, the refined tattoos on his hands, and the unmistakable danger he represented.
"No, Mr. Hale," Cora answered, her voice surprisingly steady. "I am not afraid of you."
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"Would you stay here with Maisie while I deal with the perimeter security?" Dorian asked, trusting her with his most precious asset.
"I will not leave her side," Cora promised.
