Chapter 5
Two massive security guards in dark suits entered the luminous dining room. Their expressions were entirely blank, their American accents silent as they marched forward without a word. They grabbed Colette by the arms, hauling her roughly toward the exit. She shrieked, thrashing wildly against their iron grip, but they were unyielding.
"You are a dead man, Archer!" she screamed as they dragged her backward through the heavy mahogany doors. "You will all burn for this!"
"Will you convey my deepest regards to your father?" Archer asked quietly.
He did not answer her further screams. He watched in silence as the heavy oak doors slammed shut behind her, severing the alliance and guaranteeing a bloody mafia war. The room was finally quiet again, the only sound the gentle crackle of the ornate marble fireplace.
Archer stood alone near the head table for a long moment, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a slow, controlled breath. The betrayal was absolute, the upcoming syndicate war with Colette’s father inevitable, but the immediate, toxic sickness within his home had been surgically removed.
He turned his body, his polished leather shoes pivoting seamlessly on the thick rug, and walked toward the two women seated at the table.
Pippa was sitting rigidly in the champagne velvet chair, her hands clutching the edges of her white apron. Her sophisticated black maid dress contrasted sharply with the extravagant setting. She had buried her face in her hands, her slender frame trembling from the shouting and the sudden violence of Colette’s removal. Evelyn was gently stroking the young woman's arm, her pale, softly lined face etched with deep, maternal concern.
Archer stopped beside them, his imposing, masculine frame casting a protective shadow over the housemaid and his mother.
"Are you unharmed, Mother?" Archer asked, his deep voice softening significantly, losing its lethal, interrogative edge.
Evelyn turned her head, her fair, rosy cheeks stained with fresh tears. She looked at her son, her eyes searching for reassurance. "I am unharmed, Archer. I am just so sorry I caused this conflict. You needed the Sterling alliance."
"Would an alliance built on your suffering ever bring true power to this family?" Archer asked, reaching out to gently cup his mother’s cheek with his tattooed hand.
Evelyn sniffled, leaning into his touch, a small, fragile smile breaking through her distress. "No, my son. It would not."
"Are you prepared to retire to your suite?" Archer asked. "Will you allow my men to bring your dinner to your private quarters tonight?"
"Yes, Archer," Evelyn nodded, her voice steadying. "That sounds lovely."
Archer shifted his gaze to Pippa. The beautiful housemaid was watching him, her expressive brows drawn together in quiet empathy. She had risked her job, her safety, and her physical well-being by feeding his mother and enduring a brutal physical punishment in silence. The loyalty she had displayed was a rare, precious commodity in Archer's dark, violent world.
"Are you in severe pain, Pippa?" Archer asked, his cold, perceptive eyes scanning her delicate features before dropping to her short A-line skirt, where he knew her bruised knees were hidden.
"It only aches a little, Mr. Langford," Pippa answered softly, her elegant posture unwavering even as she sat in the velvet chair. "I am perfectly fine."
"Will you allow my physician to examine those injuries immediately?" Archer asked, his tone conveying a deep, unspoken gratitude mixed with a command that could not be refused.
"You don't need to call a doctor for me, sir," Pippa protested gently, her rosy cheeks flushing under his intense gaze.
"Do you intend to deny my request?" Archer asked, a faint, rare trace of amusement touching the corners of his mouth.
May you like
"No, sir," Pippa sighed, a small, involuntary smile breaking through her anxiety.
"Will you follow me to my study?" Archer asked, offering his tattooed hand to help her stand.
