Chapter 6
The luminous, airy warmth of the dining room offered no solace to the woman kneeling on the patterned rug. Selene sobbed uncontrollably, her face buried in her manicured hands, her diamond engagement ring catching the bright light in a mocking display of failed ambition. The silence stretched, tight and unforgiving, broken only by her ragged, panicked weeping.
Alistair stood over her, an imposing monolith of masculine power. His polished leather shoes rested mere inches from the hem of her ruined silk gown. He waited, his patience a weapon as sharp and precise as a scalpel.
"Are you prepared to tell me how many men your father sent, or must I call my interrogators to assist you?" Alistair asked, his deep voice carrying a measured, lethal calm.
Selene flinched violently at the threat. She dropped her hands, her fair skin streaked with ruined makeup, her eyes wide with primal terror. She knew the stories of what Alistair Crowe did to traitors within his syndicate.
"There are ten of them!" Selene choked out, the venom finally breaking through her tears as self-preservation took over. "They are disguised as the valet staff and catering crew! They are already inside the perimeter!"
June gasped softly, her hand flying to cover her mouth. The sheer, terrifying reality of the assassination plot was staggering. The men who had been pouring wine and parking cars all evening were heavily armed hitmen waiting for the signal.
Alistair did not react physically. His high-bridged nose and sharply defined jawline remained locked in a mask of cold composure. But behind his perceptive eyes, a dark, violent calculus was rapidly computing the depth of the immediate danger.
"Did you believe that murdering me would allow your father to absorb my territory without a war?" Alistair asked quietly.
"We were going to blame it on a rival family!" Selene pleaded, reaching out to grasp the leg of his tailored trousers. "I was going to play the grieving widow! I was trying to protect myself, Alistair! If I didn't do it, my father would have killed me too!"
Alistair looked down at the trembling woman clinging to his leg. He felt absolutely nothing for her. The affection he had feigned for the sake of the syndicate merger evaporated instantly, leaving behind a cold, calculating void that craved only survival and retribution.
"Do you expect me to harbor a treacherous murderer under my roof?" Alistair asked.
He didn't wait for her to answer. He reached down with his artistic, tattooed hands and forcefully peeled her fingers off his suit. He stepped back, severing all physical contact with her forever.
"Is there any reason I shouldn't have my men escort you to the basement holding cells immediately?" Alistair inquired, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt with immaculate precision.
"Alistair, please, you can't!" Selene wept, crawling forward on her knees. "My father will kill you when he finds out the engagement is broken! He will burn this city to the ground!"
"Are the consequences of your treason my concern?" Alistair asked.
He reached into his jacket and retrieved a sleek, encrypted smartphone. He dialed a single digit and pressed the phone to his ear. The small neck tattoo shifted seamlessly with the movement.
"Will you send a security detail to the grand dining room?" Alistair asked into the receiver. "Will you ensure Miss Waverly is escorted to the holding cells beneath the east wing immediately?"
May you like
He lowered the phone and looked at the broken socialite one last time.
"Have you finally realized the price of your ambition, Selene?" Alistair asked softly, as the heavy doors of the dining room burst open.
