Chapter 4
The flames of the tall ivory candles flickered wildly as a heavy draft swept through the grand dining room. Claudia stood with her back pressed against the edge of the carved walnut table, her sapphire gown looking less like royalty and more like a vibrant bruise against the room's elegant palette.
"You can't do this," Claudia whispered, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and disbelief. "We have a contract, Damon. Our families have an alliance. Are you going to throw away millions of dollars and a secured border because a maid got a little scraped up?"
"Is a physical assault on my staff what you consider a 'little scrape', Claudia?" Damon asked. He turned his broad shoulders away from her, effectively dismissing her presence, and knelt down to the eye level of his son and the housemaid.
Lena looked at him, her soft, expressive brows knitted together in fear. She kept one arm wrapped securely around Eli.
"May I see your arm, Lena?" Damon asked gently, his deep voice losing its lethal edge, replacing it with a quiet, commanding warmth.
Lena hesitated for a fraction of a second before slowly unbuttoning the white cuff of her sleeve. She pushed the dark fabric up, exposing her fair, rosy skin. The bruise was vicious—a dark, mottled ring of purple and black in the distinct shape of a woman’s desperate, violent grip.
Eli buried his face in Lena’s apron, unable to look at the evidence of the pain he had tried so desperately to stop.
Damon stared at the bruise, the muscles in his sharply defined jaw clenching tight. His cold eyes darkened considerably, a terrifying storm brewing behind them. He reached out with his tattooed hand, his fingers hovering just millimeters above her bruised skin without actually touching it.
"Did she do this to you today, Lena?" Damon asked, his gaze lifting to meet hers.
"Yes, Mr. Kingsley," Lena answered, her voice shaking slightly. "Before the guests arrived. She found me in the hallway with Eli. She grabbed me and told him that if he didn't perform perfectly at dinner... she would make sure I was thrown out onto the streets, or worse."
"She’s lying!" Claudia screamed from across the room, grabbing a crystal stemware glass and hurling it at the wall in a fit of rage. It shattered into a thousand pieces against the ivory panels. "She’s a manipulative whore! She wants my life!"
Damon slowly stood up to his full, imposing height. He did not flinch at the sound of the shattering glass. He smoothly buttoned the center button of his tailored suit jacket, turning his head slightly to look at Claudia over his shoulder.
"Do you believe throwing crystal will change the truth, Claudia?" Damon asked, his voice returning to a glacial chill.
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"The truth is that boy is weak!" Claudia spat, abandoning all pretense of elegance. "He cries for a dead woman every night! I was making him strong! I was doing you a favor!"
"Did I ever ask you to 'fix' my son?" Damon inquired, his tone dangerously low.
