Chapter 6
The sweeping marble staircase leading to Cormac’s private quarters felt impossibly long to Iona. The bright, airy lighting of the lower floors gradually shifted into the softer, warmer hues of the residential wing. She moved quickly, her fitted black maid dress swishing softly around her ankles. Her knuckles throbbed with a dull ache from the impact against Gareth's abdomen, a physical reminder of the violence she had just unleashed.
She reached the heavy, double oak doors of the master suite. The security detail stationed outside—two massive men in dark suits—stepped aside immediately, opening the doors for her without a word. They had clearly received their orders.
Iona stepped inside, the doors clicking shut behind her, sealing out the noise of the estate. The room was a sanctuary of deep, masculine luxury. Dark wood, rich leather, and heavy velvet curtains framed the space. A marble fireplace cast a warm glow over the enormous bed.
She walked to the center of the room and simply stood there, finally allowing the adrenaline to bleed out of her system. Her hands began to shake violently. She pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to block out the image of the caterer bleeding on the study floor.
She had crossed a line tonight. She had struck a member of the Briarwood family. In any other circumstance, she would be dead before morning. But she knew Cormac would never let that happen.
Nearly an hour passed before the heavy doors opened again.
Cormac entered, discarding his suit jacket onto a leather armchair and loosening his silk tie. The brutal, cold persona he wore for the syndicate evaporated the moment the door locked behind him. He looked exhausted, the angular lines of his face drawn tight with stress.
He saw Iona standing near the fireplace, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
"Did I frighten you tonight, Iona?" Cormac asked, his voice a low, gentle rumble as he crossed the room.
Iona looked up, dropping her arms. "No. Gareth frightened me. I thought they were going to hurt you."
Cormac stopped inches from her. He reached out, taking her small hands in his. He gently examined her knuckles, running his tattooed fingers over the slight redness there.
"You struck a made man," Cormac murmured, his eyes lifting to meet hers. "Do you understand the penalty for what you did, under the laws of my family?"
"I don't care about the laws of your family," Iona whispered fiercely, tears finally gathering in her expressive eyes. "I care about you."
Cormac’s breath caught in his chest. The quiet mutual affection they had shared for months in stolen glances and brief conversations was finally laid bare. He pulled her gently forward, wrapping his powerful arms around her slender waist, drawing her against his chest.
"You are the bravest woman I have ever known," Cormac said softly, resting his chin on the top of her head.
May you like
Iona buried her face in his shirt, the scent of his cologne surrounding her. "What happens now, Cormac?" she asked, using his first name for the first time.
"Now," Cormac replied, his voice hardening with lethal resolve, "I dismantle every piece of Gareth's operation, and I make sure no one ever looks at you with disrespect again."
