Chapter 5
The effect on the room was instantaneous. The sheer, commanding, and terrifying aura radiating from Julian stripped away the festive atmosphere of the Christmas reception in a heartbeat.
Every single guest at the long banquet table stopped eating and speaking. Crystal glasses were lowered slowly back to the fine porcelain. The polite, affluent conversation died entirely in their throats, replaced by a suffocating, terrified silence. Fifty faces turned toward the dining-room entrance, their fair skin paling as they watched the mafia boss step forward.
Julian moved with absolute, predatory grace. He closed the distance between the banquet table and the marble ledge in three long strides, his polished shoes silent against the floor. He stepped directly beside Molly, his broad, masculine frame casting a protective shadow over her trembling figure.
He did not yell. He did not explode. The absolute stillness of his muscular frame was infinitely more dangerous than any outburst of rage.
Julian looked directly at Molly. His dark eyes were absolute voids of lethal intent, yet when they rested on her, a flicker of profound, agonizing guilt softened the harsh lines of his angular face.
"Molly," Julian said.
His deep, quiet voice echoed loudly in the dead-silent room. He paused after her name, a deliberate, agonizing silence that hung in the bright air like an executioner's blade. He kept his cold, unwavering gaze locked entirely on the broken, exhausted housemaid.
"You eat from that?" Julian asked.
The question was not born of curiosity; it was a deadly demand for confirmation, dripping with the absolute promise of retribution for whoever had caused it.
Molly swallowed hard, her pulse racing frantically. She met Julian’s dark, commanding gaze. Her chest heaved rapidly beneath the fitted black fabric of her creased dress. She knew the extreme danger of answering that question. She knew the power of the Vane family, and she knew Scarlett’s capacity for vindictive violence.
But looking into Julian’s eyes, feeling the absolute, terrifying demand for the truth radiating from his masculine frame, Molly found she had no choice. The presence of the mafia boss stripped away her ability to lie, just as starvation had stripped away her physical strength.
Molly briefly glanced toward the silver dog bowl on the marble ledge, her expressive eyes filling with hot, shameful tears. She looked back up at Julian.
May you like
Her breath trembled violently, parting her lips before she could force the fragile words out into the open.
"Only when the dogs leave something," Molly whispered.
