Chapter 6
Damon Rowe stopped breathing. The muscles in his neck strained against his crisp white collar. He realized in a fraction of a second that the woman he was supposed to marry had not only engaged in a psychotic, jealous campaign of intimidation against his staff, but possessed a complete lack of humanity. She had tried to trick an innocent maid into incinerating a puppy over a ruined material possession.
He slowly turned his head. He locked his cold, lethal gaze directly onto Celeste.
Celeste’s eyes flicked nervously toward the watching guests, glaring with absolute venom at the crowd witnessing her exposure. She realized instantly that her carefully constructed narrative of the benevolent future wife was entirely destroyed.
She turned her gaze back to Damon. Her careful, polished expression hardened into a mask of raw, unadulterated malice, though she desperately tried to maintain her aristocratic, possessive arrogance. The elegant public smile completely faded.
"Damon, darling, you must understand," Celeste whispered, her voice pitching slightly higher with defensive anxiety as she faced the terrifying silence of her fiancé. "It was just an animal. It destroyed custom silk."
The sheer, brazen audacity of the defense echoed off the gilded mirrors. It was a callous admission of psychotic behavior, an arrogant attempt to gaslight the room into believing her actions were simply the harsh, necessary realities of maintaining her elite lifestyle.
"My shoes were worth more," Celeste stated, her American accent dripping with cold, controlled resentment.
The words hung in the bright, golden air, a staggering confirmation of profound sociopathic violence. To value silk over a beating heart in front of the man who ruled the city was a level of instability that threatened the entire foundation of the mafia empire.
Damon did not yell. He did not reach for a weapon. His restraint was a masterclass in terror.
He moved with absolute, predatory precision. He stepped decisively forward, inserting his broad-shouldered, masculine frame directly into the medium wide space between Celeste and Iris. He placed his body entirely in front of the housemaid, creating an impenetrable physical shield of masculine authority.
"Are you defining the value of life by a price tag, Celeste?" Damon inquired softly, his perceptive eyes narrowing into cold slits.
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"I am defining respect!" Celeste shrieked, pointing a shaking, diamond-adorned finger at the space behind Damon, though she shrank back under his lethal glare. "I am the future of this family! I will not tolerate indiscipline from beasts or servants! You cannot humiliate me in front of our families over a meaningless dog!"
"You humiliated yourself the moment you brought your rotting soul into my home," Damon replied coldly.
