Chapter 8
Sabrina backed away from the low worktable, her heels clicking unsteadily against the polished marble floor. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a defensive posture that crushed the luxurious fabric of her loosely draped gown. Her diamond earrings shook as her aristocratic bravado finally shattered, leaving only primal terror in its wake.
"Ronan, you cannot believe this is real," Sabrina sobbed, her chest heaving as she tried to backpedal. "We are supposed to unite our syndicates! You cannot throw all of that away because of a misunderstanding! I will give you a real child! We can start tonight!"
Ronan stood immovably in his tailored dark three-piece suit. He kept his broad shoulders squarely between his daughter and the woman who had manipulated them all. He felt absolutely nothing for her. The political affection he had feigned for the sake of the syndicate merger evaporated instantly, leaving behind a cold, calculating void that craved only survival and absolute retribution.
"Are you prepared to remove the ring from your finger, Sabrina, or must I cut it from your hand?" Ronan asked, his deep voice carrying a measured, lethal calm.
Sabrina flinched violently at the threat. She dropped her hands, her fair skin streaked with ruined makeup. She knew the stories of what Ronan Vale did to traitors within his syndicate.
"You can't do this!" Sabrina choked out, the venom returning as self-preservation took over. "My father is Victor Rowe! He commands the entire southern seaboard! He will burn your empire to the ground if you humiliate me like this!"
"Is your father a man who fights battles for foolish, lying daughters?" Ronan asked quietly.
"He will kill you!" Sabrina pleaded, reaching out to grasp the edge of a velvet sofa. "I am going to be your wife, Ronan! We signed the contracts! You cannot back out now without causing a massive war!"
"Do you expect me to harbor a sociopath under my roof to appease a shipping magnate?" Ronan asked.
He didn't wait for her to answer. He reached into his tailored jacket and retrieved a sleek, encrypted smartphone. He dialed a single digit and pressed the phone to his ear. The small artistic tattoo above his collar shifted seamlessly with the movement.
"Vincent," Ronan said into the receiver, his eyes locked on his former fiancée. "Will you come to the drawing room and escort Miss Rowe to the holding cells beneath the east wing immediately?"
May you like
He lowered the phone and looked at the broken socialite one last time.
"Have you finally realized the price of your ambition, Sabrina?" Ronan asked softly, as the heavy mahogany doors of the drawing room burst open.
