Chapter 6
Estelle Monroe stood frozen near the edge of the head table. The bright, luminous light of the banquet hall caught the sheen of her satin evening gown, but her fair, rosy skin had suddenly drained of all its vibrant color.
She had been listening to Ivy’s breathless explanation, her mind racing. The revelation of the arson attack had struck a nerve she desperately wanted to keep hidden. In her frantic attempt to justify her earlier cruelty and distance herself from the severity of the attempted murder, her mouth moved faster than her brain.
Staring directly at Ivy with wide, panicked eyes, Estelle blurted out, "That’s impossible. She was supposed to be out."
Her voice was sharp, loud, and rang with absolute certainty across the silent ballroom.
The very moment the words left her lips, Estelle’s voice abruptly faltered. Her mouth snapped shut, her eyes darting frantically side to side as the catastrophic weight of her own sentence crushed the air from her lungs. She raised a trembling hand covered in diamonds toward her throat.
Ivy went completely still.
The sophisticated housemaid stopped breathing. Her expressive almond eyes widened as she stared at the billionaire's fiancée. The implication was undeniable. It wasn't a guess. It wasn't an assumption. It was a statement of prior knowledge.
A heavy, suffocating silence dropped over the elite crowd of white American guests. The men and women sitting at the elegant dinner tables exchanged horrified, wide-eyed glances. The Mafia boss's fiancée had just accidentally confessed to having inside knowledge of an assassination attempt on a woman under his explicit protection.
Adrian Kingsley did not shout. He did not immediately draw the weapon concealed beneath his tailored suit.
Instead, Adrian slowly, deliberately turned his head. His cold, penetrating eyes moved away from Ivy and tracked smoothly over his shoulder. The motion was terrifying in its measured control. The loose strand of hair over his forehead swayed slightly as he turned his body to fully face his fiancée.
"What did you just say?" Adrian asked.
His deep voice was devoid of any emotion. There was no anger, no shock, no volume. It was an absolute, terrifying void.
"Adrian, I..." Estelle stammered, her American accent pitching into a shrill, hysterical squeak. She took a stumbling step backward, her expensive heels catching on the carpet. "I misspoke. I meant... I meant she is usually out of the bakery at that time of night! Everyone knows she closes at eight!"
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"You did not say she usually closes," Adrian replied, taking a single, slow step toward her. His polished leather shoes made no sound. "You said she was supposed to be out."
Estelle’s hands began to shake violently. The beautiful, arrogant woman who had mocked a crying elder just minutes ago was now staring directly into the eyes of the devil she had planned to marry.
