Chapter 4
The bright cinematic light reflected off the heavy diamond rings on Tamsin’s fingers as she set her crystal wine glass back onto the table. The sharp clink of the glass against the wood was the only sound in the cavernous dining hall. She looked around the table, noticing the pale, terrified faces of the family members and the rigid postures of the suited bodyguards. Instead of showing an ounce of regret, she scoffed.
Tamsin deliberately folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes, her American accent dripping with unwarranted arrogance and cruel condescension.
"Oh, please. Look at all of you," Tamsin said sarcastically, gesturing toward the crying child with a dismissive wave of her hand. "She’s just pretending to be helpless. It is pathetic how easily you all fall for her little dramatics. She just wants attention because you coddle her, Orson."
The words hung in the air, incredibly toxic and profoundly stupid.
Orson Bellori slowly turned toward her.
He moved with the terrifying, unhurried grace of an apex predator. His polished leather shoes made no sound against the carpet. He stopped a few feet away from Tamsin’s chair. His broad shoulders, accentuated by the tailored dark three-piece suit, blocked out the natural light, casting a long, dark shadow entirely over his older cousin.
"You think this is a performance," Orson stated. He spoke incredibly slowly, utilizing controlled, deliberate pauses between his words. His deep, slightly raspy voice was kept at a chillingly low volume, forcing everyone in the room to hold their breath just to hear him. Every single sentence sounded measured, cold, and immensely dangerous.
"I think she is manipulative," Tamsin shot back, lifting her chin defensively. "She knows exactly how to wrap you around her little finger. The entire commission is talking about it, Orson. They say the great Don Bellori has gone soft because of a sickly little girl. I was merely proving a point to the table."
"You were proving a point," Orson repeated, his sharp, intimidating eyes locking onto hers, stripping away every layer of her false bravado.
"Yes, I was," Tamsin insisted, her voice pitching slightly higher as the terrifying reality of his gaze began to penetrate her arrogance. "You need to focus on the family's business, not running around fetching toys and medicine like a common nanny."
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"Tamsin, shut your mouth," a senior capo whispered frantically from across the table, his fair face slick with nervous sweat. "Don't say another word to him."
"I will not be silenced!" Tamsin snapped, slamming her hands down on the table. She looked at Mara, who was shrinking back into her chair, clutching the inhaler. "She doesn't even need that plastic crutch! Give it to me!"
