Chapter 5
The demand hung in the bright, airy dining room like a loaded gun. The soft, elegant warmth of the crystal chandeliers seemed to mock the absolute terror paralyzing Marielle Shaw. She clutched the small evening bag to her chest as if it were a shield, her fair skin slick with cold sweat.
"Leander, you are embarrassing me in front of our guests," Marielle choked out, her voice shrill with rising hysteria. She attempted to draw on her social standing, a desperate ploy to redirect his focus. "We are getting married! The council approved our union! You cannot treat me like a common criminal!"
"Are you my fiancée, or are you a liability?" Leander asked smoothly, his cold, perceptive eyes completely devoid of mercy.
He didn't yell. He simply released Caleb’s hand, giving the boy a gentle, reassuring squeeze before stepping away from the child and the housemaid. He walked slowly around the edge of the sprawling white damask table. His polished leather shoes made no sound on the thick rugs.
"Keep away from me!" Marielle shrieked, backing away frantically. Her sculpted satin gown tangled around her legs, causing her to stumble slightly.
"Do you believe you can hide a conspiracy in my own house?" Leander inquired, stopping just three feet away from her. His towering, masculine frame cast a long shadow over her. "Do you think a small clutch can protect you from the consequences of treason?"
"It wasn't treason!" Marielle cried out, tears of genuine panic finally spilling over her dark lashes. She looked desperately toward her brother again. "Ethan, tell him! Tell him about the families!"
Ethan Cole stood up abruptly from his ivory upholstered chair. At forty, he was a seasoned mafia associate, but his face was ashen. He raised his hands defensively, his expensive tuxedo suddenly looking like a cheap costume.
"Boss," Ethan said, his voice trembling. "She acted alone. The Cole family had absolutely nothing to do with this recording. We swear our loyalty to you and your son."
Marielle stared at her brother in absolute, unadulterated horror. She had just been entirely disavowed by her own bloodline to save themselves from Leander's wrath.
"Are you prepared to surrender the device, Marielle?" Leander asked quietly, returning his focus entirely to the trembling woman before him. "Or must I instruct my men to retrieve it from you?"
Marielle looked at the hardened capos standing around the perimeter of the room. Their hands rested near their holstered weapons. She knew she had lost.
With a shaking, defeated sob, Marielle unclasped the evening clutch. She reached inside and pulled out a sleek, modern smartphone. She held it out toward him, her hand trembling violently.
Leander didn't snatch it. He reached out with terrifying, deliberate slowness, his tattooed fingers closing gently around the device.
"Who was the intended recipient of this fabrication?" Leander asked softly, looking down at the locked screen. "Were you planning to present this to the ruling council to legitimize a coup?"
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Marielle collapsed to her knees on the floor, her elegant facade completely shattered. "I just wanted to be your wife," she wept into her hands. "I just wanted to secure my place."
"Did you secure your place?" Leander murmured, turning his back on her without a second glance.
