Chapter 5
The vast dining hall was silent, the absence of the guests leaving a ringing, hollow quiet in the bright, luminous room. The tall ivory candles continued to flicker, casting a soft elegant warmth over the abandoned crystal glasses and fine porcelain.
Clara stood beside the serving cart, her sophisticated black maid dress perfectly neat despite the chaotic unraveling of the evening. She looked up into Everett’s cold, perceptive eyes, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She was a woman who cleaned floors and polished silver, yet the most powerful man in the state was looking at her with a profound, terrifying intensity.
"I am not afraid of you, Mr. Sinclair," Clara answered, her voice a soft, tremulous whisper. "But I am terrified of what I have caused. You shouldn't have broken your engagement for me. Her family is going to seek revenge."
"Do you believe I fear the retaliation of cowards?" Everett asked, his deep voice a low, reassuring rumble.
He looked down at Theo. The six-year-old boy was still standing close to his father's leg, his fair, rosy cheeks pale from the shouting. Everett crouched down smoothly, bringing his angular face level with his son's.
"Are you uninjured from your fall on the stairs, Theo?" Everett asked gently.
"I'm okay, Papa," Theo nodded, looking at Clara with a shy, grateful smile. "Clara caught me before I hit the bottom step. She dropped the big blue vase to hold me."
"Did you thank her for saving you?" Everett asked, reaching out to adjust the small bow tie on his son's velvet jacket.
"Yes, Papa," Theo said earnestly.
Everett stood back up to his full height. His powerful shoulders shifted under his tailored dark suit. He picked up the plain, sealed envelope from the white damask tablecloth and held it out toward Clara. The refined tattoos on his hand were stark against the white paper.
"Will you take what belongs to you, Clara?" Everett asked.
Clara hesitated, her delicate cheekbones flushing a deep, rosy pink. She slowly reached out and took the envelope, her slender fingers briefly brushing against his. The contact was electric, sending a sharp spark of warmth up her arm.
"Thank you, sir," Clara whispered, clutching her wages to her chest. "I needed this for my rent. I didn't know what I was going to do."
"Why did you choose to suffer her extortion in silence?" Everett asked, his gaze searching her beautifully oval face.
"She told me that if I bothered you with staff issues, you would fire me immediately," Clara explained, her eyes wide and honest. "I couldn't risk losing this job. I have no one else to rely on."
"Have I ever given you reason to believe I value a piece of porcelain over the loyalty of my staff?" Everett asked.
"No, sir," Clara admitted. "But she was going to be your wife. I assumed she spoke for you."
"Will you ever make that assumption again?" Everett asked, stepping slightly closer to her.
"No, Mr. Sinclair," Clara said, shaking her head.
"Will you take Theo up to the nursery and stay with him until he falls asleep?" Everett asked, looking down at his son. "Is it not time for a brave boy to go to bed?"
"Can Clara read me a story?" Theo asked eagerly.
"Would you mind reading to him, Clara?" Everett asked, holding her gaze with an intensity that made her breath catch.
May you like
"It would be my pleasure, sir," Clara smiled, a gentle, breathtaking expression that illuminated her face.
She took Theo's small hand in hers and led the boy out of the luminous dining room. Everett stood alone among the white roses and flickering candles, his mind already calculating the bloody, violent mathematics of the mafia war that would undoubtedly begin before the sun rose.
