Chapter 12
Once the service doors clicked shut behind Nora and Oliver, the atmosphere in the dining room plummeted to absolute freezing. The polite pretense of the engagement dinner evaporated, leaving only the dark, lethal reality of the underworld.
Damian slowly turned his body to fully face Camille. He took one measured step forward. His tailored dark three-piece suit shifted, the artistic tattoos on his hands flexing as he clasped them behind his back.
"Marcus," Damian said, his voice echoing in the cavernous room.
The lead capo stepped immediately out from the shadows near the entrance, his hand resting casually on his holstered weapon. "Yes, Boss."
"Lock the doors to this hall," Damian ordered calmly. "No one leaves."
A ripple of panic ran through the seated guests, but they knew better than to protest. The heavy oak doors were sealed shut with a resounding, metallic click. The brilliant, natural light of the room suddenly felt like an interrogation spotlight.
"Damian, please!" Camille wept, falling to her knees on the imported rug. The heavy diamond engagement ring on her left hand scraped against the floor. "I was only trying to make him strong! He needs discipline! You coddle him too much!"
"You locked my son. In the dark," Damian stated, pronouncing each word slowly, letting the horror of her actions hang in the crisp air. "You terrorized a two-year-old child."
"I am going to be your wife!" Camille shrieked, grasping desperately for the political protection her status was supposed to provide. "My family brought you the southern shipping routes! You need us!"
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Damian looked down his high-bridged nose at the pathetic woman groveling before him. The charming, romantic movie-star aesthetic was entirely gone, replaced by a monster of absolute vengeance.
"I need nothing. From a family that breeds poison," Damian whispered.
