Chapter 1
A crowded Christmas reception filled Selena Cross’s ancestral mansion, vibrating with the low, dangerous hum of the city's criminal elite. Cascading crystal chandeliers flooded the entire salon with warm golden light, casting an ethereal glow over the snow falling silently outside the towering windows. Ivory candles glowed steadily in ornate brass candelabras placed meticulously beside gilded planters, polished marble tables, and carved walnut furniture. Plush burgundy velvet sofas were arranged for the ruthless men and their glittering companions. At the center of the room, a towering Christmas tree sparkled with golden lights and crimson ornaments, dominating the lavish space.
Damon Mercer stood near the roaring fireplace, his imposing presence demanding a wide berth from the surrounding guests. He was a handsome, masculine mafia boss with broad shoulders and a sharp, angular jaw. His naturally swept-back hair and extremely short stubble gave him a rugged edge that contrasted beautifully with his tailored dark three-piece suit. A family signet ring caught the candlelight, and a luxury wristwatch peeked from his cuff. Striking artistic tattoos utilizing negative space decorated his hands and fingers, while a small, intricate artistic tattoo appeared just above his crisp collar.
"You seem a million miles away, my love," a smooth, silken voice murmured near his ear.
Selena Cross, Damon’s fiancée, slipped her hand through his arm. She wore a stunning emerald satin gown that clung to her curves, and heavy diamond earrings that flashed with every movement of her head. Her fair, rosy skin glowed perfectly in the candlelight.
"Just thinking about the logistics of the port deal, Selena," Damon replied, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that lacked any true warmth.
"Tonight is for celebration, Damon. We are announcing the merger of our families," Selena admonished gently, her polished smile never wavering. "You should be smiling. You have everything a man could want."
"I have what is required," Damon said coldly, stepping slightly away from her grasp.
Across the room, Mara Wells, a beautiful, gentle maid with delicate features and clear, expressive eyes, was keeping a close watch on Damon’s three-year-old daughter. Mara wore a fitted black maid dress, white apron, white collar and cuffs, and a white ruffled maid headband. Loose strands of hair framed her fair face, and her apron was lightly creased from a long evening of chasing the toddler.
Lily Mercer had round rosy cheeks, soft curls, and tiny dimples. She wore a burgundy velvet pinafore, a cream knitted blouse, white tights, little ankle boots, and a soft ribbon bow in her hair. She was wandering near the fireplace, tracing the heavy evergreen garlands that decorated the walls.
"Come along, Lily," Mara said softly, kneeling to eye level with the child. "It's too close to the fire here. Let's go find a sweet treat from the kitchen."
Lily didn't move. She stood perfectly still, her bright eyes fixed on a tall, hinged mirror built into the wall beside the fireplace. The thick evergreen garlands draped heavily over its edges, concealing the framework.
"Mommy's voice," Lily whispered, reaching a tiny hand toward the glass.
May you like
Mara’s heart ached. Damon believed his wife, Miriam, had died in a tragic car accident two years ago. "Oh, sweet girl," Mara sighed, gently taking the toddler's hand. "Your mommy is in heaven."
"No," Lily insisted, her little boots planting firmly on the polished marble. She pulled Mara closer to the heavy mirror. "Mommy is here. I hear her."
