Chapter 4
The sudden question directed at the audience broke the spell of paralysis. The elite guests, seasoned politicians and wealthy syndicate allies, understood the unwritten rules of the underworld perfectly. When a Mafia boss politely asks if you have finished eating during a violent domestic dispute, you run.
A prominent judge hastily stood up, abandoning his half-eaten gold-rimmed plate. "Yes, Mr. Langford. The evening was splendid. We really must be going."
"Will you find your coats, or shall I have my men assist you?" Cyrus asked.
Chairs scraped violently against the polished marble floors as thirty guests practically scrambled to their feet. There were no polite farewells, no lingering handshakes. Men in tailored suits and women in evening gowns fled the bright, elegant room with frantic urgency, eager to escape the blast radius of Cyrus’s wrath.
Within ninety seconds, the grand dining hall was entirely empty of its audience, leaving only Cyrus, Evelyn, Mina, Finn, and the elderly dog. The heavy wooden doors clicked shut, sealing them inside the luminous, golden room.
Evelyn backed away from the head table, her emerald silk gown rustling aggressively. Her chest heaved, her fair skin flushed a mottled, angry red.
"Are you insane?" Evelyn hissed, her voice echoing in the cavernous space. "You just threw the governor and my father’s lieutenants out of your house! You are humiliating me, Cyrus! You are destroying our alliance!"
"Is an alliance built on the mistreatment of those under my protection worth preserving?" Cyrus asked, taking a slow, measured step toward her.
"Under your protection?" Evelyn scoffed, a venomous, hysterical laugh escaping her lips. "She is a servant! She scrubs your floors! I am going to be the lady of this house! I have the right to discipline insubordinate help!"
"Did I grant you the authority to dispense discipline with your fists?" Cyrus asked.
He stopped a few feet away from her. The imposing, masculine perfection of his face was striking, but his eyes were completely devoid of warmth.
"She was disrespectful!" Evelyn yelled, pointing a shaking finger at Mina. "I asked her to iron my dress, and she brought it back with a wrinkle! I grabbed her arm to show her! The stupid dog snapped at me, and I tripped her! It was nothing!"
"Does a simple trip require bandages and silence?" Cyrus asked quietly.
Mina remained rooted to the spot behind him, holding Finn tightly against her side. The little boy had buried his face against her black maid dress, trembling as the shouting continued.
"Cyrus, you cannot take her side!" Evelyn pleaded, realizing her anger was not working. She switched tactics, her eyes filling with dramatic tears. "My family brings you the eastern shipping routes! We control the ports! If you break this engagement, my father will declare war on you!"
"Do I look like a man who fears a war?" Cyrus asked, tilting his head slightly.
He reached into the inner pocket of his tailored suit jacket and retrieved a sleek, silver smartphone. He pressed a single button, raising the device to his ear. The small neck tattoo shifted seamlessly with the movement.
"Are my security details stationed at the front doors?" Cyrus asked into the phone. He paused, his cold eyes locked on his fiancée. "Will you come to the dining room and escort Miss Sloane to her vehicle?"
Evelyn gasped, stepping backward until her spine hit the back of a champagne velvet chair. "You can't do this! You are throwing away an empire for a maid!"
"Will you remove the ring, Evelyn?" Cyrus asked, lowering the phone.
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"No!" Evelyn shrieked, clutching her left hand to her chest. "I won't let you do this to me!"
"Must I have my men remove it for you?" Cyrus asked, his voice a low, lethal purr that promised immediate violence.
