Chapter 5
The golden light radiating from the crystal chandeliers seemed to turn frigid. Marceline remained on the floor, her hands entirely empty, frantically grasping at the polished marble. The grand dining room, filled with fragrant white roses and untouched fine porcelain, felt less like a banquet hall and more like a beautifully decorated tomb.
"I don't know the exact location," Marceline whispered, her voice completely broken. "I swear to you, Evander. Graham never told me. He only gave me instructions on a secure burner phone. I plant the bug, I keep you distracted during the dinner, and he moves his cargo through the docks safely."
Evander calmly adjusted the cuffs of his dark three-piece suit. He looked at one of the armed guards standing rigidly by the arched doorway. "Marcus, will you escort my fiancée to the cellar?"
Marceline’s eyes went wide with pure, unadulterated terror. She scrambled backward, her expensive heels slipping wildly on the marble. "No! Evander, please! I’m the only one who can contact him! You need me!"
"Do I look like a man who needs a traitor to find his blood?" Evander asked softly.
Marcus stepped forward, gripping Marceline roughly by the arms and hauling her forcefully to her feet. She kicked and thrashed, the sculpted garnet silk ripping audibly as she fought against the guard's iron grip.
"You're making a mistake!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the ivory-paneled walls. "He'll kill Leo! He'll kill him the second he realizes I'm gone!"
"Will Graham even know you're in the cellar before my men find him?" Evander asked as Marcus dragged her ruthlessly toward the heavy oak doors.
The dining room fell completely silent again, leaving only Evander and Daisy. The housemaid stood perfectly still, her hands clasped tightly in front of her white apron. She felt the sudden, terrifying weight of being the only civilian left in a room with a man who had just condemned his fiancée to the dark underground.
Evander turned to face her. His thick, slightly wavy hair was slightly disheveled, a few loose strands falling over his forehead, making him look wilder and infinitely more dangerous.
"Are you afraid of me, Daisy?" Evander asked, his cold, perceptive eyes locking onto hers.
"Yes, sir," Daisy answered honestly. Her voice was quiet, but it did not shake. "But I am much more afraid for your son."
Evander studied her softly tapered face in the candlelight. He noticed the delicate cheekbones and the fierce, protective intelligence shining in her expressive brows. "Why did you risk your position to pull that device from my chair?"
"Because a housemaid's job is to ensure the master's home is clean and secure," Daisy said, taking a brave, small step forward. "And because I lost a little brother to the ocean once. I know what that specific grief looks like. If your son is alive, you deserve to know."
Evander’s jaw tightened. It was a microscopic movement, the only visible crack in his impenetrable armor. He looked down at the microphone still gripped in his hand.
"Will you come with me to the security room, Daisy?" Evander asked.
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Daisy blinked, entirely taken aback by the sudden request. "Me? Sir, I'm just the maid. I should return to the staff quarters before things get worse."
"Did I ask if you were a maid, or did I ask if you would accompany me?" Evander asked, his deep voice leaving absolutely no room for refusal.
