Chapter 4
The luminous, cinematic lighting of the ballroom seemed to spotlight the intense, intimate exchange between the mafia boss and the housemaid. Corisande stood tall in her fitted black dress, the pristine white apron glowing under the chandeliers. She met Florian’s desperate, searching eyes without looking away, her own expressive features reflecting a quiet, unshakeable courage.
"He is safe, sir," Corisande said, her voice trembling slightly with the weight of the moment, yet carrying an absolute, undeniable certainty.
Florian’s chest heaved. "Are you sure?"
"Upstairs," Corisande confirmed, nodding her head so slightly that only he could perceive the motion. "She never got past his nanny. I locked the safe room myself before I came down here. The boy is secure."
The profound relief that washed over Florian’s angular face was instantaneous. The paralyzing fear that had gripped him vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating, and overwhelming masculine fury. The leverage Octavia thought she held had just been shattered by the beautiful woman standing beside his chair.
Florian slowly turned his head away from Corisande, his gaze locking onto Octavia.
Octavia’s polished, artificial smile faltered completely. Her hand shook as she set her crystal champagne glass down on the table with a sharp, echoing clack. She looked at Corisande, then back to Florian, the reality of her failed coup d'état crashing down upon her.
"You're lying," Octavia spat, her voice dropping its sweet veneer. "My men were sent up there ten minutes ago."
"Your men are likely unconscious, or worse," Florian stated, his voice a low, vibrating rumble of pure menace. "Did you truly believe you could infiltrate my home, threaten my blood, and walk out of this ballroom alive, Octavia?"
"I am your fiancée!" Octavia shrieked, her composure breaking as the fifty guests watched in stunned, horrified silence. "You need my family! You need my guns!"
"I need nothing from a woman who threatens children," Florian replied coldly. He stood up slowly, the dry overcoat hanging heavily from his broad shoulders. He towered over her, the artistic tattoos on his neck flexing as he squared his jaw. "The engagement is broken. Our families are at war. And you are a dead woman walking."
"You think a maid can save you?!" Octavia screamed, her face contorting with absolute rage. She pointed a diamond-adorned finger at Corisande. "I will have her gutted! I will have her family burned to the ground!"
May you like
"You will not touch her," Florian promised, stepping slightly in front of Corisande, physically shielding the housemaid with his own body. "You have lost, Octavia. Accept it."
"I have lost nothing!" Octavia roared, her eyes darting frantically across the head table. Her gaze landed on the narrow folding dessert table beside them, and the open, heavy glass champagne bottle resting upon it.
