Chapter 3
The sheer audacity of the moment hung suspended in the bright, cinematic air. The fifty guests held their collective breath, waiting to see if the young boss of the Ashbourne syndicate would be murdered at his own dinner table.
Mireille Fenwick did not wait. Gripping the heavy silver serving tray with both hands, she swung it upward with every ounce of desperate strength she possessed.
She struck Aurelia’s glass-holding forearm ONCE.
The impact was sharp, loud, and devastating. The heavy silver connected directly with the bone of Aurelia's forearm. Aurelia let out a high-pitched, agonizing scream, the pain instantly breaking her fierce grip on Reeve’s jaw. The heavy crystal glass slipped from her numb fingers, tumbling toward the floor.
It hit the polished marble and shattered explosively. The poisoned ruby-red wine splashed across the stone, staining the pristine floorboards like fresh blood.
The two towering bodyguards, caught completely off guard by the sudden violence from the delicate housemaid, instinctively recoiled from the falling glass and the splashing liquid. For a crucial, microscopic second, they loosened their iron grips on Reeve’s upper arms.
It was all the opening Reeve needed.
With a brutal surge of pure, masculine power, Reeve ripped his arms free. He twisted his broad shoulders, his tailored dark suit pulling tight across his back as he threw off the bodyguards. He stepped forward, putting himself physically between the shattered glass and the trembling housemaid.
The watching guests fell entirely silent. The hum of conversations, the clinking of silverware, the soft background murmurs—all of it ceased instantly. The room was paralyzed. A housemaid had just physically assaulted a high-ranking member of the Ashbourne family to save the boss’s life.
Mireille immediately set the heavy silver tray down onto the nearest table, her hands shaking violently. She did not run away. Instead, she stepped right back into the danger zone, returning to her position directly beside Reeve.
She reached up, her small fingers trembling as she gently wiped the last stray drop of wine from his chin with the clean napkin. She moved to his collar, carefully straightening the crisp white fabric that had been twisted by the bodyguards' rough handling. Her expressive eyes frantically checked his face, his lips, searching for any sign that the poisoned wine had touched him.
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Reeve stood perfectly still, his chest heaving with adrenaline. He looked down at the beautiful woman adjusting his collar. He did not pull away. He stayed incredibly close beside her, his massive frame acting as an impenetrable shield against the rest of the room. The artistic tattoos on his hands flexed as he looked at her shaking fingers, a profound, unspoken gratitude radiating from his dark eyes.
The silence stretched, heavy and apocalyptic. Aurelia cradled her injured arm against her elegant evening gown, gasping in pain and sheer terror as she realized her coup had failed spectacularly.
