Chapter 2
The dinner service had moved with flawless, terrifying precision, a testament to the iron grip Damon held over his household. The main courses were cleared by a silent, efficient staff, leaving only the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of crystal glasses. Sylvie moved gracefully toward the head table, balancing a silver tray laden with delicate, sugar-dusted pastries. Her heart, however, hammered a frantic, irregular rhythm against her ribs.
She stepped up to the polished walnut table, her eyes carefully downcast. She approached Damon's side, her movements practiced and fluid.
"Dessert, Mr. Harrow," Sylvie murmured softly, her voice barely a whisper against the heavy atmosphere of the room. She delicately placed a fine porcelain dessert plate before the mafia boss, ensuring the placement was exact.
"Does the kitchen have the espresso prepared?" Damon asked, his cold eyes flicking briefly to her face.
"Yes, sir. It will be out momentarily," Sylvie replied smoothly.
As she stepped back to serve the child, the atmosphere at the table shifted with a sudden, suffocating heaviness. Coralie leaned forward in her champagne velvet chair. The midnight-blue satin of her gown rustled softly. She offered Eli a gentle, painfully manufactured public smile.
"You haven't eaten a thing, sweetheart," Coralie cooed, her voice carrying just enough volume to ensure the neighboring capos could hear her maternal concern. She reached her manicured hand across the table, her diamond engagement ring catching the candlelight, extending her fingers toward Eli’s small shoulder.
The reaction was instantaneous and visceral. Eli let out a sharp, breathless gasp. He immediately recoiled, throwing his small body backward with such force that his chair scraped violently against the hardwood floor. He scrambled out of his seat and lunged toward Sylvie, his small hands desperately gripping the pristine white fabric of her apron. He buried his face against her hip, trembling like a hunted animal.
Sylvie froze. Her hands instinctively hovered over the boy, wanting to comfort him, but she was acutely aware of her station. The entire room seemed to hold its breath.
Damon’s head snapped toward the movement. His cold, perceptive eyes locked onto Eli’s frightened, wide eyes peering out from the folds of the maid's apron. He saw the sheer, unadulterated terror etched into his son's features. The small neck tattoo above Damon's collar shifted as his jaw tightened.
Damon slowly turned his head, his gaze bypassing his fiancée completely. He looked directly into Sylvie’s expressive eyes, piercing through her with a terrifying intensity.
"Sylvie," Damon said.
May you like
His deep, low voice dropped a full octave. He allowed a measured, agonizing pause to linger after her name. The sound was a command that commanded absolute silence. Every single guest stopped eating. Conversations died in their throats. Dozens of powerful men and women turned their heads toward Damon in total, suffocating silence.
"Why is Eli afraid?" Damon asked.
