Chapter 2
The absolute silence that blanketed the magnificent dining hall was suffocating. The warm golden light reflecting off the crystal chandeliers seemed to turn to ice under Silas’s unyielding stare. The elite guests, accustomed to the brutal and unpredictable reality hidden beneath the mafia boss’s tailored suits, held their breath. No one dared to move a muscle.
Silas’s heavily tattooed hands remained perfectly still at his sides. He did not break eye contact with Daphne, his deep, measured voice vibrating with a terrifying, contained fury.
“Do you all believe this private degradation is a spectacle designed for your evening entertainment?” Silas asked, directing his words not at Daphne, but at the crowded room of frozen guests.
The question hung in the bright, airy space for only a fraction of a second before the guests scrambled to obey the unspoken command. Velvet dining chairs scraped frantically against the cream marble floors. Men and women with fair, rosy skin paled in terror as they abandoned their half-eaten meals on fine porcelain plates, rushing toward the towering double doors.
“Is it necessary to linger while my household handles its internal affairs?” Silas asked as a few of the older bosses hesitated near the exit.
They quickly shook their heads and hurried out. Within moments, the expansive dining room was entirely empty, leaving only the three figures at the head table bathed in the glow of the ivory candles.
Daphne’s satin gown rustled as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, suddenly realizing how entirely alone she was.
“Silas, darling, you are completely overreacting,” Daphne stammered, her hands fluttering over the polished silverware. “She is just a housemaid. Why are you causing a scene in front of our associates over a simple haircut?”
“Did you truly believe you could desecrate this woman in my home and demand my silence?” Silas asked, his tone dropping a lethal octave.
“It was just hair!” Daphne shot back, her defensive anger flaring as her rosy skin flushed an ugly red. “She was flaunting it! It is completely inappropriate for a servant to parade around trying to catch the eye of her employer! I was doing this household a favor by putting her in her place!”
Nora let out a quiet, heartbroken sob. She tried to step backward, wanting nothing more than to retreat to the shadows of the servant’s quarters, but Silas gently extended a tattooed hand to block her retreat, keeping her safely by his side.
“Do you think I am blind to the cruelty masquerading as your twisted sense of etiquette, Daphne?” Silas asked, leaning slightly forward, casting a shadow over Daphne’s diamond earrings.
“I am your fiancée!” Daphne shrieked, her voice losing all its refined polish. “You are humiliating me in front of our families over a servant! She was trying to make you look at her! She uses her delicate little features to get your attention!”
“Is your insecurity so profound that you feel threatened by the mere presence of a gentle woman?” Silas asked, his eyes narrowing into cold slits.
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“I demand respect!” Daphne cried, slamming her manicured hand onto the walnut table.
“Have you ever considered that respect is earned through basic human decency, rather than a satin dress and a title?” Silas asked, his broad shoulders squaring as he looked down at the woman he was supposed to marry.
