Chapter 5
Nora’s hands were shaking so violently that she nearly dropped the prosthetic as she placed it into Graham’s outstretched palm. His fingers, adorned with dark, refined ink, brushed lightly against hers. The brief contact sent a sudden, electric jolt through her slender frame. Graham held the silicone mound with a look of profound, chilling detachment, assessing its weight before casually tossing it onto the nearest polished walnut table, treating it like a piece of discarded garbage.
“Where exactly did she strike you?” Graham asked, his cold, observant eyes dropping to focus entirely on Nora's face.
Nora swallowed hard, her throat painfully dry. She was acutely aware of her sophisticated black maid dress, of her white collar and cuffs, and of how drastically out of place she felt in the middle of a mafia boss's domestic war.
“My left cheek, sir,” Nora answered softly, keeping her eyes downcast, afraid to look into his intense gaze. “The makeup covered the bruise for the party. And... she pushed me into the doorframe. My shoulder is bruised as well.”
“Will you look at me, Nora?” Graham asked, his voice a low, commanding rumble.
Slowly, Nora raised her head. The gentle taper of her face and her expressive brows were framed perfectly by the loose French twist of her hair. She met his cold eyes, finding not the rage she expected, but a dark, terrifying protectiveness that made her breath catch.
“Did she promise to have you killed if you spoke against her?” Graham inquired, taking a half-step closer. His tall, tailored frame commanded the space, making the massive dining room feel incredibly small.
“Yes,” Nora whispered, a fresh tear escaping her eye. “She said she would tell your men that I was stealing from the estate. She said they would dispose of me and you would never even ask where I went.”
Graham’s jaw tightened. The extremely short, neatly trimmed stubble on his face shifted as he ground his teeth together. He slowly turned his head to look back at Adrienne, who was still weeping on the floor, clinging to the leg of a velvet chair.
“Did you threaten the life of a woman under my roof in my name?” Graham asked Adrienne, his voice echoing with lethal intent.
“She’s nothing!” Adrienne screamed hysterically, abandoning her apologies for venom. “She is a maid! You are the head of the Kingsley family! Why do you care what happens to the help? She humiliated me!”
“Do you believe your life holds more value than hers simply because you wear my diamonds?” Graham asked.
Adrienne gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “I am your fiancée! I come from a respected family! You cannot treat me like a common criminal!”
“Did you not commit fraud against the head of this syndicate?” Graham asked smoothly, sliding his hand into the pocket of his tailored trousers. He pulled out a sleek, encrypted mobile phone. “Did you not conspire to manipulate the succession of my empire?”
He pressed a single button on the phone and brought it to his ear. The silence in the room was absolute, save for the crackling of the marble fireplace.
“Marcus, are you in the foyer?” Graham asked into the receiver. He listened for a brief second. “Will you bring two men into the dining room immediately?”
Adrienne’s eyes widened in sheer terror. She knew exactly who Marcus was. He was Graham’s underboss, the man who handled the problems that needed to disappear into the river.
May you like
“Graham, no!” Adrienne shrieked, scrambling backward across the floor. “You can't do this! My family will retaliate! They will go to war for me!”
“Will they go to war for a woman who disgraced them by strapping silicone to her waist?” Graham asked, ending the call and sliding the phone back into his pocket.
