Chapter 3
The innocent, toddler-phrased question shattered the fragile tension surrounding the ice chest. Elise didn't wait for Bianca's permission. Driven by a desperate, protective instinct, she yanked the heavy metal latch free and forcefully threw the hinged lid open.
The bright, cinematic lighting of the salon flooded the interior of the polished silver chest.
Resting at the bottom, shivering violently amongst the crushed ice and chilling champagne bottles, was Bean. The ten-week-old fluffy kitten was completely wet, his fur matted to his tiny frame, but he was miraculously alert, letting out a weak, desperate mew. There was no visible injury, only the profound trauma of the freezing dark.
Elise gasped, tears immediately pooling in her eyes. She reached her hands into the ice, her fingers stinging from the cold.
Maisie looked down into the chest, her tiny dimples disappearing as a deep, worried frown creased her round face. She looked up at Elise, her young mind struggling to comprehend the cruelty of the situation. She had witnessed Bianca shoving the kitten into the box, but the fiancée had lied, telling the toddler it was a special Christmas bath for the animal.
Maisie looked worriedly at Elise, and then lifted her small hand, pointing a finger directly toward Bianca.
"Mommy…" Maisie said softly, her young American accent breaking the silence with natural, toddler pauses. "Kitty cold. Auntie did."
The devastating impact of the child's truth struck the immediate area like a physical blow. The absolute stillness of Adrian Crowne sent an immediate, chilling ripple through the grand salon.
Adrian, who had been listening quietly to a lieutenant’s report mere feet away, instantly stopped breathing. The cold, unyielding armor he wore as the mafia boss slipped for a fraction of a second. He turned his head sharply, his dark, sweeping gaze moving from the pointing finger of his toddler daughter directly to the open ice chest where the shivering kitten lay.
The clinking of fine porcelain ceased entirely within his immediate radius, the silence spreading down the long salon until it consumed the entire grand space. One by one, every single dinner guest stopped eating and speaking. Fifty of the most dangerous men and women in the city turned their heads, all staring toward the drinks table.
Adrian did not hesitate for a single microsecond. He moved with preternatural speed, crossing the polished marble floor in three massive, predatory strides.
He stopped directly beside the low table, casting a formidable shadow over the exquisite display of champagne and ice. He reached out with his large, tattooed hand and gripped the heavy lid of the silver ice chest, holding it fully open to prevent it from slamming shut on Elise’s hands.
Elise didn't look at the mafia boss, nor did she look at the furious fiancée. She reached blindly onto the table, grabbing one of the thick, folded linen napkins. With profound, frantic care, Elise lifted Bean out of the freezing ice and immediately wrapped the wet, shivering kitten securely into the warm fabric of the napkin.
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The warm golden light cascading from the chandeliers highlighted the sudden, suffocating tension that had gripped the syndicate. Adrian did not look at the elite guests, nor did he look at his daughter. He kept his hand firmly wrapped around the heavy silver lid, holding it open as a silent testament to the crime.
He looked directly at Elise, his intense, pitch-black eyes stripping away the layers of her fear to find the truth hidden underneath.
