Chapter 2
Kellan lowered his forearms slowly, his dark eyes meeting Briony’s deeply worried gaze. The sting on his cheek was entirely superficial, a minor physical inconvenience, but the profound, genuine fear in her expressive eyes struck a far deeper chord. The crowd was laughing at him, recording his supposed weakness, but his longtime housemaid had immediately rushed into the line of fire to check on him.
Before Kellan could speak, Cedric raised the remote again, his thumb hovering menacingly over the trigger button for another burst.
Briony saw the movement over Kellan’s shoulder. She realized instantly that Cedric intended to continue the humiliation, to batter the boss in front of his peers until he lost his composure.
Panic and a sudden, fierce protectiveness surged through Briony. She turned swiftly back toward the refreshment table located just beside them. Her hands flew to the heavy glass pitcher filled to the brim with ice-cold water. She lifted it, the condensation slipping against her fingers.
Kellan remained standing perfectly still, positioned just behind her right shoulder, watching her with a quiet, dangerous intensity. He did not attempt to stop her.
Without a single word, Briony spun around, took two quick steps forward, and violently slashed the heavy glass pitcher through the air.
A massive wave of freezing water splashed directly into Cedric’s arrogant, mocking face.
Cedric recoiled instantly, letting out a sharp, pathetic gasp as the ice water hit his eyes and mouth. The sudden shock caused his fingers to spasm, dropping the ball machine remote onto the clay court. He stumbled backward awkwardly, his leather loafers slipping on the wet surface, until he crashed down unceremoniously onto the padded courtside bench.
Water streamed heavily over his expensive club jacket, ruining the pristine fabric and flattening his carefully styled hair against his skull. He sat there, drenched, sputtering, and utterly humiliated.
The laughter from the watching guests died instantly. The silence that swept over the private tennis court was absolute and terrifying.
Briony didn't hesitate. She quickly stepped forward, her white apron catching the sunlight, and retrieved the dropped remote from the clay. She pressed the power button, switching the menacing ball machine completely off.
She turned her back on Cedric, entirely unbothered by the furious, sputtering club director. She walked back to the refreshment table, grabbed a clean, folded white napkin, and returned to Kellan.
Her fingers were still trembling violently as she reached up, gently blotting the reddened mark on Kellan’s cheek with the soft linen. She watched his expression carefully, her eyes searching his face, visibly far more concerned about his minor scrape than she was about the drenched, furious man she had just publicly assaulted.
Kellan looked down at her. He slowly raised his tattooed hand, gently catching her wrist to steady her trembling fingers. He held her hand against his cheek for a fraction of a second before turning his gaze directly toward Cedric.
“Your turn to entertain them,” Kellan said, his deep, measured voice vibrating with a quiet, lethal danger.
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Cedric looked up, wiping water from his eyes. He looked toward the courtside tables. The same guests who had been recording Kellan were now pointing their raised phones directly at the drenched, pathetic club director.
Briony remained standing intimately close beside Kellan, holding the napkin against his cheek, an unspoken alliance forged in plain sight.
