Chapter 8
Roman turned his broad shoulders, shifting his attention back to the mahogany gift-wrapping table. He crouched down slightly, his tailored suit shifting smoothly over his muscular frame.
He inserted the small brass key into the padlock securing the heavy steel chain to the fixed brass rail. With a sharp, metallic clack, Roman turned the key and released the cuff.
The heavy steel mechanism popped open. The chain fell away, crashing heavily against the floor.
Mara’s hand came free instantly. She pulled her arm back, clutching her bruised, red wrist tightly against her chest. As her hand moved, the little bell tied to the steel cuff fell entirely silent against the mahogany table, its festive jingle replaced by the profound, ringing silence of liberation.
Mara’s chest heaved with ragged sobs of sheer relief. The suffocating terror that had gripped her for hours began to ebb, replaced by a profound, shaking exhaustion.
Beside the table, three-year-old Jude watched the metal fall away. The toddler didn't fully understand the complex, violent mafia politics that had just transpired, but he understood the profound, undeniable pain of the woman he loved.
Jude stepped forward in his burgundy knitted romper. He reached out with his small, chubby hands.
He gently reached for Mara’s newly freed hand, his tiny fingers wrapping carefully around her bruised wrist, offering the only comfort he knew how to give.
Mara looked down at the boy, fresh tears spilling over her rosy cheeks. She dropped to her knees on the marble floor, wrapping her arms around Jude and burying her face in his soft dark curls.
Roman stood up to his full height. He stepped between Camille and Mara, placing his body entirely between his fiancée and the weeping housemaid, creating an impenetrable physical shield of masculine authority. He ensured that both Mara and his son were completely protected from the woman in the champagne gown.
Roman remained standing perfectly still. He did not look at the sobbing maid. He kept his head turned, watching Camille without a single word.
He held her gaze with a cold, unwavering stare that promised absolute, undeniable destruction. His silence was infinitely more dangerous than a scream, stripping away her diamonds, her satin gown, and her lies, exposing the cruel, power-hungry monster trembling beneath.
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"Roman, you cannot believe this is worth ending our alliance over," Camille sobbed, her chest heaving as she tried to backpedal. "We are supposed to unite our syndicates! You cannot throw all of that away! I will pay her what she asked for! I will double it!"
"Are you prepared to remove the ring from your finger, Camille, or must I cut it from your hand?" Roman asked, his deep voice carrying a measured, lethal calm.
