Chapter 4
Camilla backed away until her spine hit the edge of the carved walnut furniture lining the dining room wall. The bright, luminous light of the room offered her no place to hide. She looked wildly around the empty, cavernous hall, desperately seeking an exit that did not exist. Her satin gown rustled loudly in the suffocating quiet.
"I was doing it for you!" Camilla cried out, her voice pitching an octave higher as her panic fully set in. "You demand perfection in this house! The dog is a nuisance! You are a king, Grant! You cannot be tied to a screaming animal and a child who disobeys!"
"Do you believe you have the right to decide what is permitted to breathe under my roof?" Grant asked, his deep voice remaining terrifyingly calm, completely devoid of the hysteria radiating from the woman before him.
"You need me!" Camilla shrieked, grasping at the last shreds of her political power and family influence. "My family controls the western distribution lines! We built an empire together! If you break this engagement, my father will start a war that will burn this city to the ground!"
"Do you think the threat of a war frightens me more than a monster sleeping in my bed?" Grant inquired, tilting his head slightly, his cold, observant eyes narrowing into dark, lethal slits.
He didn't wait for her to process the absolute lack of mercy in his gaze. He reached into the inner pocket of his tailored dark three-piece suit, his refined tattoos catching the golden light, and withdrew a heavy, encrypted mobile phone.
"Are you waiting in the grand foyer, Marcus?" Grant asked into the receiver. He paused, listening to his unseen underboss on the other end of the line. "Will you bring two men into the dining room immediately?"
Camilla gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in sheer, unadulterated terror. She knew exactly what Marcus did for the Whitestone family. He was the man who made Grant’s problems disappear without a trace.
"No! Grant, please!" Camilla shrieked, kicking off her expensive heels and scrambling backward across the marble floor. "You can't do this! I am a Reed! My family will kill you! My father will slaughter your entire syndicate for this!"
The heavy mahogany double doors of the dining room swung open violently. Marcus, a towering man with a heavily scarred face and a dark trench coat, stepped into the room, flanked by two equally intimidating enforcers. They moved with absolute, silent precision, ignoring the lavish surroundings and focusing entirely on their boss.
"Will you escort my former fiancée to the holding cells in the sub-basement?" Grant asked, not taking his eyes off the weeping woman backed against the wall.
"No! No, please!" Camilla shrieked, kicking and thrashing wildly as the two enforcers reached out and grabbed her by the arms. They hauled her to her feet with effortless strength, the delicate fabric of her elegant satin evening gown tearing audibly at the seams. "I loved you, Grant! You owe me! I saved you from a pathetic life!"
"Will you ensure she is gagged if she continues to scream, Marcus?" Grant inquired, casually adjusting the cuff of his dark suit.
May you like
Marcus nodded grimly. "Yes, boss. Let's go, princess."
The enforcers dragged Camilla backward toward the doors. Her threats devolved into hysterical, panicked sobs that echoed down the grand hallway until the heavy doors clicked shut behind them, sealing the dining room in a profound, suffocating silence once more. The engagement was violently over.
