Chapter 4
No one moved to the ball machine. In fact, within sixty seconds, the courtside reception tables began to clear rapidly. The elite donors and syndicate members murmured hasty apologies and goodbyes, eager to escape the suffocating tension that Kellan Ashbury commanded effortlessly. The private tennis court quickly emptied, leaving only Kellan, Briony, Cedric, and a handful of Kellan’s personal enforcers standing near the exits.
Cedric stood shivering by the padded bench, his ruined club jacket clinging wetly to his arms. He realized too late that his grand attempt to humiliate the boss had backfired, isolating him completely.
“You are making a catastrophic mistake, Kellan,” Cedric muttered, his voice shaking with cold and suppressed rage. “The members saw you hide behind a housemaid. They saw you let a woman fight your battles. You look weak.”
Kellan walked slowly toward the refreshment table, ignoring his cousin entirely. He picked up a clean, dry napkin and wiped the remaining droplets of water from the heavy glass pitcher Briony had used. He looked at the maid, his sharp, defined jaw softening for a fraction of a second as he met her expressive eyes.
“Do you truly believe a man is weak because he commands loyalty that money cannot buy?” Kellan asked Cedric, though his gaze remained locked on Briony.
“Loyalty?” Cedric scoffed, running a hand through his wet hair. “She’s not loyal, Kellan. She’s on your payroll! She’s just trying to secure a larger tip! You think she actually cares about you?”
Briony’s fair cheeks flushed deeply. She lowered her eyes, staring at her flat shoes, unable to voice the depth of the affection she held for the terrifying mafia boss. She was just a maid; she had no right to defend her own heart in front of these men.
Kellan turned his broad shoulders fully toward Cedric, his dark eyes turning pitch black.
“Is projecting your own mercenary nature onto others the only way you can understand human connection, Cedric?” Kellan asked, his deep voice vibrating with absolute, unyielding authority.
“She assaulted me!” Cedric yelled again, desperately clinging to his only argument. “She threw water in my face! Are you going to let her get away with it? Because if you don't discipline her, I will.”
The air on the tennis court seemed to drop ten degrees. Kellan took two massive, predatory strides, closing the distance and grabbing Cedric violently by the lapels of his wet jacket. He slammed his older cousin backward against the high chain-link fence of the court, the metal rattling loudly under the impact.
Briony gasped, taking a step forward, her white lace maid headband shifting slightly, but she stopped herself. She knew better than to interfere when Kellan unleashed his wrath.
“Do you honestly believe you will live long enough to lay a single finger on her?” Kellan asked softly, his face mere inches from Cedric’s terrified eyes.
“Kellan... I'm your cousin,” Cedric choked out, panic finally setting in. “We're family.”
“Did you consider our bloodline when you aimed that machine at my head in front of forty witnesses?” Kellan asked, his artistic tattoos stark against Cedric’s light-colored jacket. “Did you think I would simply laugh off an attempted coup?”
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“It was a joke!” Cedric pleaded, his feet scrambling on the clay.
“Shall we see how deeply you appreciate my sense of humor, Cedric?” Kellan asked, signaling to his enforcers with a sharp tilt of his head.
