Chapter 7
The question hung heavily between them, thick with an unspoken, dangerous intimacy. The warm golden light from the crystal chandeliers cast deep shadows across Graham's sharply defined jaw, making him look every bit the lethal underworld king he was. Nora’s breath caught in her throat. She looked up into his cold, perceptive eyes, desperately searching for a hint of his true intentions.
“You sent her to the basement, Mr. Kingsley,” Nora whispered, her expressive brows drawing together. “Her family is powerful. I exposed her. When they find out what happened, won't they come after the person who ruined the wedding?”
“Do you believe I would allow anyone to harm a woman under my protection?” Graham asked, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly register that sent a sudden shiver down Nora’s spine.
Nora swallowed hard, acutely aware of the proximity of his broad shoulders and the faint, expensive scent of his cologne mixed with danger. “I am just a housemaid, sir. I am easily replaceable. It would be safer for your empire if you just let me disappear.”
“Did I ask for your resignation, Nora?” Graham asked quietly. He raised his hand, the refined tattoos on his fingers stark against the pristine white of her collar, and gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from her delicate cheekbone.
The touch was incredibly soft, a shocking contrast to the violence she had just witnessed him command. Nora closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, leaning involuntarily into the warmth of his hand. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She was terrified of him, yet inexplicably drawn to the sheer, uncompromising strength he exuded.
“Why did you keep her secret for so long?” Graham asked, dropping his hand back to his side, though he did not step away.
“I was terrified, sir,” Nora admitted, opening her eyes to meet his intense gaze. “She threatened me daily. And... you looked so happy. I heard you talking to your capos about how proud you were to finally have an heir. How could I be the one to break your heart?”
“Do you think my heart is fragile enough to break over a lie?” Graham inquired. He turned slightly, looking at the discarded silicone belly resting on the walnut table. “Or do you think my pride is simply wounded because I allowed an enemy to sleep in my bed?”
“She wasn't just an enemy, sir. She was going to be your wife,” Nora said softly, her slender hands twisting the fabric of her black skirt.
“Would a true wife strap deception to her waist and strike the innocent?” Graham asked. He turned back to her, his dark eyes intense and unwavering. “Did you not show more loyalty to my house in a single evening than she did in a year?”
Before Nora could formulate an answer, the heavy doors of the dining room swung open once more. Marcus re-entered, his scarred face tight with grim urgency. He did not look at the maid, his attention fixed entirely on his boss.
“Is she secured, Marcus?” Graham asked, his posture instantly shifting back from intimate to commanding.
“Yes, Boss. She’s locked in holding cell three,” Marcus reported, stepping further into the room. “But we have a massive problem. Adrienne’s personal driver saw us dragging her away. He sped off the property before the gate guards could stop him. He is undoubtedly on his way to the Blake compound right now.”
Graham did not flinch. His angular face remained an unreadable mask of stoic authority.
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“Do you think the Blake family will act tonight?” Graham asked, calmly checking the polished wristwatch on his arm.
“They are hot-headed, Boss,” Marcus warned, gripping the lapels of his trench coat. “Adrienne is the Don’s favorite daughter. When he hears you locked her in a cell, he won't ask questions. He will send hit squads. We need to lock the mansion down.”
