Chapter 9
The heavy, carved walnut doors at the far end of the banquet hall swung open. Four of Rowan’s personal enforcers stepped into the luminous, airy room. Dressed in sharp, dark suits that mirrored their boss’s aesthetic, they moved with a silent, terrifying efficiency. The gentle golden highlights of the chandeliers glinted off the weapons holstered at their hips.
Sabina let out a high-pitched, hysterical scream. She looked frantically between the armed men and the cold, unyielding face of the mafia boss.
“Rowan, no! Please!” Sabina shrieked, her hands flying up in a desperate gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry! I’ll apologize to her! I’ll leave the city! Just let me walk out the front door! My father will pay you whatever you want!”
Rowan stood completely still, his tailored three-piece suit immaculate, his family signet ring catching the light. He looked at her with an expression of absolute disgust.
“Will you escort my former fiancée to the basement holding cells and ensure she has no access to a telephone?” Rowan asked his enforcers, his measured voice cutting effortlessly through her panicked screams.
“No! You can’t lock me in a cell! I am a Rowe!” Sabina wailed as the four large men descended upon her.
They grabbed her firmly by the arms, entirely ignoring the expensive satin of her evening gown. Sabina thrashed and kicked, her dress shoes scrambling against the cream marble floor, but she was effortlessly overwhelmed. She fought like a cornered animal, her polished public smile replaced by a feral mask of sheer terror and rage.
“He will kill you for this, Rowan! He will slaughter you all!” Sabina screamed as they dragged her backward toward the service doors.
“Do you truly believe your father will go to war for a daughter who sits rotting in my dungeon?” Rowan asked softly, knowing her screams would carry the question down the hall.
The heavy service doors slammed shut behind the enforcers, cutting off Sabina’s hysterical shrieks with a definitive, echoing thud.
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The grand banquet hall fell silent once more. The ivory candles continued to glow warmly in their ornate brass candelabras, and the crystal glasses sat abandoned on the long table. The immediate threat had been physically removed, but the heavy, looming shadow of the impending war with the southern syndicate hung thickly in the air.
Rowan turned his broad shoulders, his gaze sweeping across the empty room before settling back on the beautiful maid standing near the head of the table. The violence of his world had fully breached the walls of his home, and now, there was no going back.
