Chapter 3
The silence in the grand dining room was suffocating. The cinematic, warm golden light from the crystal chandeliers seemed to freeze the scene in absolute stillness. Capos who had spent their lives dealing in extreme violence stiffened in their ivory upholstered chairs. The tension wrapped around the room like a tightening wire.
Ada stood frozen under the terrifying scrutiny of the mafia boss. She knew the power Estelle wielded as the future mistress of the house. She knew the consequences of defiance.
But Ada held Cassian’s unyielding gaze.
Her expressive inner brows lifted slightly in a gesture of profound, helpless sadness. Moisture gathered rapidly along her lower eyelids, catching the bright, luminous lighting of the room. She thought of the desperate, muffled crying she had heard earlier, the sound of a terrified child trapped in the dark.
"Someone was crying behind that door," Ada whispered.
Her voice was thin, breathless, but incredibly clear. It cut through the silent room like a razor blade. After speaking the forbidden truth, her eyes shifted briefly, involuntarily looking past Cassian’s broad shoulders toward the dark archway that led to the closed, locked door of the west wing. Her fingers tightened desperately against the white fabric of her apron, bracing for the explosive violence she was certain would follow.
The revelation dropped like a live grenade into the center of the luxurious interior. The air in the room seemed to shatter.
"Cassian, darling, this is absurd," Estelle stammered, her voice pitching high with sudden, unadulterated panic. She pushed her chair back, the sculpted silk of her gown rustling loudly. "She is the help! She is making up stories!"
Cassian didn't yell. The terrifying power of the mafia boss lay in his absolute, unhurried control. He moved smoothly, his polished leather shoes making no sound against the thick rugs.
He stepped directly beside Ada, placing his massive, powerful frame squarely between the terrified housemaid and his fiancée. He was an impenetrable wall of tailored dark wool and lethal intent.
Estelle looked directly into his cold, observant eyes. The color drained entirely from her fair, rosy cheeks, leaving her looking ghastly against the warm candlelight.
"There’s no boy in that room," Estelle blurted out.
May you like
Her reply came far too quickly. She attempted a reassuring, confident smile, but Cassian’s absolute stillness made it tighten into a brittle, defensive grimace.
Ada remained standing close behind Cassian’s broad shoulder, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs, completely shielded by the most dangerous man in the city.
