Chapter 2
The ambient noise of the luxurious reception died instantly. The clinking of crystal champagne flutes ceased. The string quartet in the corner faltered to a jarring halt. Every formally dressed guest in the immediate vicinity fell completely silent, turning their heads toward the towering mafia boss. The air grew impossibly thick, charged with a lethal, suffocating tension.
Julian stood perfectly still, the small brass bell resting silently in his tattooed palm. He looked steadily at Tessa. He took in her trembling fingers, the dark, bruised circles beneath her clear, expressive eyes, and the unnatural, swaying unsteadiness of her posture. Julian’s angular jaw tightened so fiercely that a muscle feathered beneath his short stubble.
He left a small, agonizing pause before speaking, letting the silence wrap around the room like a garrote.
"Tessa," Julian said quietly, his deep, resonant voice carrying an undercurrent of absolute, terrifying fury. "How many nights?"
Tessa’s knees buckled. Before she could hit the polished marble floor, Julian dropped the bell onto the walnut console and caught her. With a surprisingly gentle grip, Julian supported Tessa’s forearm, guiding her down until she settled into the cushioned burgundy velvet armchair immediately beside the console.
Tessa looked up, facing Julian. She steadied a trembling, jagged breath, desperately trying to force her exhausted mind to form the words.
"Three," Tessa answered, her voice breaking in the silent room. "Vivienne won’t let me sleep."
A collective gasp rippled through the assembled elite. To torture a servant was one thing; to do it to the woman whom the boss's daughter had just publicly called 'Mommy' was a death sentence.
Rosie immediately climbed onto the arm of the velvet chair. The toddler placed the star-shaped cushion directly into Tessa’s lap and rested a small, warm hand over Tessa’s trembling fingers.
Julian remained standing beside the chair, acting as a physical, impenetrable wall between Vivienne and Tessa. He picked the silent brass bell back up, holding it in clear view. Vivienne’s polished, public smile completely faded. Her fair skin went chalk-white as she shrank beneath Julian’s cold, unwavering stare.
"Julian, darling, she is lying," Vivienne stammered, her voice losing its aristocratic grace. "The girl is incompetent. She has been stealing from the estate. I was merely disciplining her."
"You took her bed," Julian stated, the words falling like blocks of ice. "You kept her awake for three days, torturing her in my home, while she cares for my daughter."
"She is a maid!" Vivienne hissed, panicking as she looked at the judging faces of the other syndicate bosses. "She is nothing, Julian! We are getting married! Our families are uniting tonight!"
"There is no union," Julian declared, his voice echoing off the gilded mirrors. "The engagement is broken. You will leave this estate immediately."
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Vivienne’s father, Victor Shaw, pushed his way to the front of the crowd, his face purple with rage. "You cannot do this, Mercer! You break this pact over a servant, and it means war!"
"If you or your daughter are still on my property in two minutes, Victor, I will hang you both from the gates," Julian promised softly. He turned his attention to his heavily armed lieutenants stationed around the room. "Clear the mansion. The reception is over."
