Chapter 1
Tiered crystal chandeliers flooded the sprawling interior of the mansion with warm golden light, casting an opulent glow over the gathered criminal elite. It was a Christmas reception designed to project absolute power. Ivory candles glowed fiercely inside glass hurricane holders along polished walnut consoles, their amber illumination reflecting endlessly across gilded mirrors, carved furniture, and plush burgundy velvet sofas. At the center of the room, a towering Christmas tree sparkled with golden fairy lights, heavy red ribbons, and delicate glass ornaments.
For Lila Hart, however, the glittering room was a gilded cage.
The twenty-five-year-old maid stood near the elaborately wrapped Christmas gift display, her heart hammering a frantic, terrifying rhythm against her ribs. She was beautiful, with delicate features and clear, expressive eyes, but tonight she looked entirely frayed. Her fitted black maid dress felt suffocating, her white collar and cuffs stiff against her fair skin. Her white apron was rumpled, and her white ruffled headband sat slightly crooked upon her disheveled hair—the lingering aftermath of being shoved into a hallway wall just minutes prior.
"You look like a cornered animal, Lila," Sabrina Rowe murmured, stepping into her peripheral vision.
Sabrina, the twenty-nine-year-old fiancée of the house's master, wore a breathtaking emerald velvet gown that clung to her curves, and heavy diamond earrings that flashed with her every movement. In her manicured hand, she held an unwrapped bar of decorative soap she had just taken from a nearby festive display.
"Please, Miss Rowe," Lila whispered, keeping her voice low so the nearby formally dressed guests wouldn't hear. "I am just trying to do my job. I didn't mean to offend you."
"Your very presence offends me," Sabrina hissed, a controlled, chilling smile plastered across her face. "I warned you about undermining me with that child. I warned you about overstepping your station."
Sabrina suddenly raised the bar of soap directly toward Lila’s face, the sharp scent of lavender and lye filling the narrow space between them.
Lila instinctively drew back, pressing her spine against the wall, but she stubbornly refused to open her mouth.
"Open," Sabrina commanded softly, her smile never wavering. "You haven’t learned."
Before Sabrina could force the issue, a tiny hand reached out and grasped Lila’s trembling fingers. Three-year-old Henry Ashford stood there, clutching his favorite plush fox. He had soft curls, round rosy cheeks, and little dimples. He wore a cream reindeer shirt, a red velvet waistcoat, and miniature brown boots.
Henry looked up at Sabrina with pure, innocent curiosity, entirely oblivious to the malicious violence hovering in the air.
At that exact moment, Tristan Ashford approached from the shadow of the Christmas tree. At thirty-three, the imposing mafia boss commanded the room effortlessly. He possessed broad shoulders, an angular jaw, and naturally swept-back hair with extremely short stubble. He wore a tailored dark three-piece suit. A family signet ring and a luxury wristwatch caught the golden light, illuminating the artistic negative space tattoos decorating his hands and fingers. A small neck tattoo was just visible above his collar.
Before Tristan could speak, Henry’s bright voice cut through the ambient chatter.
"Auntie," Henry chirped, squeezing Lila's hand, "Mommy’s kisses smell like bubbles!"
The words struck the air like a physical blow. Tristan’s dark eyes narrowed instantly. With terrifying, fluid speed, he stepped forward and immediately took the bar of soap from Sabrina’s hand, placing it onto the nearby console beside a clear glass of water.
May you like
Tristan stepped squarely between Sabrina and Lila, his broad back entirely shielding the maid. He looked steadily at Lila. His jaw tightened so fiercely a muscle feathered beneath his stubble. The ambient noise of the reception died instantly. Every guest in the immediate vicinity fell dead silent and turned toward Tristan.
"Lila," Tristan said quietly, his voice a low, gravelly rumble carrying absolute authority. "What happened?"
