Chapter 3
The bright, cinematic lighting of the afternoon sun felt suddenly oppressive as the silence stretched across the tennis court. The forty guests, recognizing the absolute, terrifying shift in power, lowered their phones one by one. The spectacle of Cedric Bancroft sitting on the padded bench, drenched and shivering in his ruined expensive jacket, was no longer amusing; it was a stark, brutal warning.
Kellan released Briony’s wrist, allowing her hand to drop slowly to her side. He turned his broad shoulders fully toward his cousin, his expression a mask of cold, unyielding authority.
“Did you truly believe a plastic machine could shatter my authority, Cedric?” Kellan asked, his deep voice carrying effortlessly across the clay court.
Cedric scrambled to his feet, his leather shoes slipping slightly on the damp surface. His fair, rosy skin was flushed an ugly, mottled red. He pointed a shaking finger at Briony, his American accent cracking with rage.
“She assaulted me!” Cedric yelled, looking frantically toward the silent donors and club members for support. “Kellan, your maid just threw water in the face of a club director! I demand you fire her immediately and have your men remove her from this property!”
Kellan did not even glance at Briony, though he stepped slightly in front of her, his tailored vest acting as a physical shield.
“Do you possess the authority to demand anything of me while standing on my territory, wearing a jacket bought with my money?” Kellan asked softly.
“This is my club!” Cedric shrieked, his voice echoing shrilly. “I run this place! I built these courts!”
“Did you build them with your own hands, or did you simply sign the checks I provided from the family accounts?” Kellan countered, taking a slow, measured step toward his cousin. “Are you under the illusion that you are anything more than a glorified manager?”
The donors at the reception tables shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Cedric had spent the entire afternoon attempting to rally them against Kellan, whispering about the boss’s supposed complacency. Now, that attempted coup was unraveling spectacularly.
“She has to be punished!” Cedric insisted, desperately trying to salvage his pride. “She humiliated a made man in front of the entire syndicate!”
Kellan stopped just three feet away from Cedric. The artistic tattoos on his hands flexed as he adjusted his luxury wristwatch, the gold glinting in the sunlight.
“Is it humiliation to be cooled down after a strenuous temper tantrum, Cedric?” Kellan asked. “Or did you mistake her protective instinct for a personal insult?”
“She is a servant!” Cedric spat, venom lacing his words. “She forgot her place!”
“Have you considered that she remembers her place perfectly, and simply refuses to watch a coward attack the man she serves?” Kellan asked, his dark eyes narrowing into lethal slits.
Briony stood near the refreshment table, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She smoothed her white apron with trembling hands, terrified of the consequences of her actions, but she did not regret them. She would do it again if it meant protecting the man she had quietly loved for years.
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Kellan turned his head slightly, his gaze sweeping over the silent crowd.
“Shall we conclude this afternoon’s entertainment, ladies and gentlemen?” Kellan asked, his voice a commanding rumble. “Or does anyone else wish to test the functionality of the ball machine?”
