Chapter 9
Camille flinched violently at the threat. She dropped her hands, her fair skin streaked with ruined makeup. She knew the stories of what Roman Ashford did to traitors within his syndicate.
"You can't do this!" Camille choked out, the venom returning as self-preservation took over. "My father is Victor Rowe! He commands the entire southern seaboard! He will burn your empire to the ground if you humiliate me like this!"
"Is your father a man who fights battles for foolish, sadistic daughters?" Roman asked quietly.
"He will kill you!" Camille pleaded, reaching out to grasp the edge of a velvet sofa. "I am going to be your wife, Roman! We signed the contracts! You cannot back out now without causing a massive war!"
"Do you expect me to harbor a monster under my roof to appease a shipping magnate?" Roman asked.
He slowly swept his gaze across the room, taking in the numerous capos, donors, and relatives standing frozen among the burgundy velvet sofas. His eyes locked onto Vincent, his most trusted lieutenant.
"Have you all finished your champagne?" Roman asked the room at large.
It was phrased as a polite question, but the command hidden within it was unmistakable and absolute.
Guests practically scrambled toward the exits. There were no polite farewells, no lingering handshakes. Men in tailored suits and women in expensive evening gowns fled the bright, elegant room with frantic urgency, eager to escape the blast radius of Roman Ashford’s wrath.
"What are you doing?!" Camille shrieked, watching her audience, her leverage, and her protection sprint for the heavy mahogany doors. "You can't just dismiss them! My family's capos are in this room!"
The men loyal to the Rowe family did not stay. They took one look at the cold, calculating fury in Roman's eyes and the armed men loyal to the Ashford syndicate stepping out from the shadows, and they ran just as fast as the civilians.
Within ninety seconds, the expansive grand salon was completely empty, save for Roman, Camille, Mara, Jude, and four heavily armed Ashford bodyguards.
The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut, sealing the room and locking Camille inside with her greatest nightmare.
"Vincent," Roman said into his encrypted smartphone, never breaking eye contact with Camille. "Will you come to the salon and escort Miss Rowe to the holding cells beneath the east wing immediately?"
He lowered the phone and looked at the broken socialite one last time.
"Have you finally realized the price of your ambition, Camille?" Roman asked softly, as the heavy mahogany doors of the salon burst open.
Vincent and another massive security guard in dark suits entered the room. They marched forward without a word, hauling Camille roughly to her feet. She shrieked, thrashing wildly against their iron grip, but they were unyielding.
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"You will regret this, Roman!" she screamed as they dragged her backward toward the doors. "You will all burn for this!"
"Will you convey my deepest regards to your father when I send him the pieces of his syndicate?" Roman asked quietly, watching the doors slam shut.
