Chapter 5
The heavy wooden doors leading from the main estate burst open. Six white American bodyguards, dressed impeccably in dark suits, flooded into the conservatory. They had heard the shattering of the ceramic pots and the tea trolley. Their hands were on their weapons, their eyes scanning for a threat.
What they found was their Boss standing amidst total destruction, completely unharmed.
"Secure the room," Cullen commanded without turning his head. His low volume carried effortlessly over the sudden rush of footsteps.
"Yes, Mr. Ravello," the lead bodyguard said, his American accent sharp. Two men immediately moved to the broken planter stand, dragging the unconscious Chase Mercer out from the dirt by his expensive lapels. Another two surrounded Tove, who was still weeping on the floor among the broken teacups.
Cullen turned his back on his former fiancée. He walked slowly back to the wicker chair where Margaret held Mireya. The little girl was breathing smoothly now, though her eyes were wide with shock.
"Mother," Cullen said, his voice dropping into a gentle, protective hum. "Take Mireya to the east wing. Have Dr. Evans look at her, just to be certain her lungs are clear."
"I will, Cullen," Margaret replied, standing up carefully. She looked at her son, her fair, wrinkled face tight with worry. "What are you going to do with them? The Mercer family is expecting a wedding."
"There will be no wedding," Cullen stated coldly. He leaned down and kissed Mireya’s forehead. "Go with Grandma, principessa. I will come read you a story soon."
"Okay, Daddy," Mireya whispered, clutching her inhaler tightly.
As Margaret carried the child out of the glass-roofed room, Cullen turned back to the wreckage. Tove was sobbing, trying to push herself up, but the bodyguards kept their hands firmly on her shoulders, forcing her to remain kneeling on the hard tile.
"Cullen, you can't do this!" Tove cried out, her elegant outfit ruined by tea stains and dirt. "My father is the head of the Mercer syndicate! If you hurt me or my brother, he will go to war with the Ravello family! The entire alliance will collapse!"
Cullen walked slowly toward her, his polished shoes crunching over the broken porcelain. He stopped inches from her face.
"Your father sent you into my home to secure a merger," Cullen whispered, his sharp jawline tightening. "He wanted access to my ports. He wanted the Ravello wealth. And he thought a pretty face and a diamond ring would make me blind."
"I love you!" Tove lied desperately, her tears smudging her makeup. "I was just stressed! The wedding planning has been a nightmare! I lost my temper with the child, I swear to God that’s all it was!"
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Cullen crouched down, his artistic tattoos flexing as he rested his forearms on his knees. He looked directly into her terrified eyes.
"You didn't lose your temper, Tove," Cullen said, measuring his words perfectly. "You threw her inhaler under a table. That is not stress. That is attempted murder. And in my world, the penalty for targeting family is absolute."
