Chapter 4
The silence in the opulent drawing room was a physical weight, pressing down on the chests of the elite guests who dared not draw a breath. The warm golden light from the crystal chandeliers suddenly felt incredibly harsh and exposing, stripping away the glamorous facade of the Christmas Eve reception.
"Are all of you waiting to unwrap gifts, or have you lost the holiday spirit?" Dorian asked the crowd, his deep voice carrying a cold, dismissive edge.
The spell broke. The elite guests scrambled for the exits, eager to escape the unpredictable wrath of the mafia boss. Heels clicked frantically against the cream marble floor as they hurried out, leaving their untouched champagne glasses and half-wrapped presents behind. Within minutes, the vast, luxurious room was entirely empty of civilians, leaving only a few trusted guards, Dorian, Nell, Archie, and the trapped fiancée.
"Dorian, darling, please," Celine stammered, reaching out across the space between them, her manicured fingers shaking. "The girl is exaggerating! I merely applied standard deductions for breakages and insubordination! She is trying to manipulate you! She wants your wealth for herself!"
Dorian did not look at Celine. He turned his head slightly, his dark, swept-back hair catching the light, and looked down at Nell. The beautiful housemaid was shaking violently, her hands covering her face as she succumbed to the overwhelming exhaustion and grief that had plagued her for months.
"Silas," Dorian commanded softly, not taking his eyes off Nell.
The senior capo immediately stepped forward from the shadows of the marble columns. "Yes, Boss."
"Will you escort Archie to the nursery?" Dorian asked, his voice softening just a fraction for his son. "Stay on the door until I relieve you."
"Right away, sir," Silas nodded. He gently took Archie's hand, leading the confused little boy out of the heavy mahogany doors, sealing them inside the drawing room.
Dorian slowly turned his full, terrifying attention back to Celine. The air between them dropped to freezing.
"Explain yourself, Celine," Dorian said, his voice a lethal, vibrating rumble. "Before I run out of patience."
Celine backed away until her spine hit the edge of a heavy silk drape. The bright, luminous light of the room offered her no shadows to hide within. She looked wildly around the cavernous space, desperately seeking an ally, but the hardened guards refused to meet her eyes.
"It was a lesson in respect, Dorian!" Celine pleaded, her hands shaking so violently the diamond earrings rattled. "She is a servant! She was acting entirely above her station! She spends too much time with your son! I was securing a strong future for us by reminding her of her place!"
"Did you think I would crown a woman whose hands are stained with the extortion of a dying woman's medical funds?" Dorian inquired, his voice remaining perfectly steady.
He looked down at Celine, exposing the ruthless, pathetic rot underneath the silk and diamonds.
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"I was doing it for you!" Celine cried out, her voice pitching an octave higher as her panic fully set in. "You demand perfection in this house! The boy needs a mother, not a maid! I was solving the problem!"
"Do you believe you have the right to decide who my son loves under my roof?" Dorian asked, stepping slowly toward her. "Or do you simply lack the capacity to understand loyalty unless it is bought with stolen money?"
