Chapter 4
The elegant warmth of the room provided no comfort against the freezing terror emanating from Dominic. The luminous colors of the banquet hall—the crystal, the white roses, the fine porcelain—stood in stark contrast to the brutal mafia interrogation unfolding. Selene Hart pressed herself harder against the ivory-paneled wall, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
“You’re bluffing,” Selene whispered, her American accent trembling. “You won’t torture me. If I have bruises on me, my father will know you broke the treaty without cause. You need me unharmed!”
Dominic slowly reached into his suit jacket, retrieving a heavy gold pocket watch. He checked the time with agonizing slowness, his thick, slightly wavy hair catching the golden highlights of the chandeliers.
“Do you truly believe a lack of physical bruises will save you from the psychological hell I am fully prepared to inflict upon you?” Dominic asked, snapping the watch shut.
Elara stood slightly behind Dominic, her hands still clutching the folded baby blanket. She stepped forward, her voice breaking the heavy tension. “Selene, please! I am begging you as a mother. You have everything! You have the money, the status, the clothes. I have nothing but her. Why are you doing this?”
Selene sneered, her rosy skin twisting into a mask of cruel vanity. “Because you embarrassed me! Do you think I didn’t notice the way he looked at you? The way the great Dominic Vale, a man who barely speaks to me, watches a maid pour his water? I knew something was wrong. And when I found the nursery, I realized you had stolen the one thing I was supposed to give him!”
“Is your fragile ego the only justification you have for kidnapping an infant?” Dominic asked, his deep voice rumbling through the room.
“It’s about respect!” Selene shrieked, tears ruining her pristine makeup. “I am a Hart! I will not play second fiddle to a servant who wipes up spills! I sent the child away so we could start fresh! I can give you a legitimate heir, Dominic!”
Dominic closed the distance between them in two long strides. He slammed his tattooed hands against the wall on either side of Selene’s head, trapping her. He did not touch her, but his immense, masculine presence was suffocating.
“Did you honestly believe a child born of your treacherous, blackened heart could ever replace the daughter I share with Elara?” Dominic asked, his face inches from hers.
Selene let out a pathetic whimper, closing her eyes tightly.
“Shall I invite my men in here to begin dismantling your father’s empire piece by piece while you watch, or will you give me the address of the orphanage?” Dominic asked softly.
“It’s... it’s the St. Jude Private Shelter for Foundlings,” Selene choked out, finally breaking under the sheer weight of his intimidation. “It’s on the north edge of the city. Past the industrial district. Please, Dominic. I told you. Let me go.”
Dominic stepped back, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit. He looked at her with utter disgust.
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“Did you think your confession would earn you the privilege of walking out of my home tonight?” Dominic asked.
He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The heavy mahogany doors burst open, and four armed guards in dark suits flooded into the luminous room, waiting for their boss’s command.
