Chapter 25
Cyrus stood alone for a moment, the violent tension bleeding out of his broad shoulders. He wiped a small drop of blood from his knuckles with a crisp white handkerchief. The heavy oak doors opened softly, and Della stepped into the study. She looked at the shattered crystal on the rug and then at her husband, her beautiful face reflecting absolute calm.
"Is the donation finalized, Cyrus?" she asked, a dark, brilliant smile touching her lips.
"The donation is exceedingly generous," Cyrus replied, walking across the room to meet her. He tossed the handkerchief aside, the cold, sociopathic mask melting entirely as he looked at his wife. "Your foundation is now the largest landowner in the northern district."
"You handled him quickly," Della noted, reaching out to gently trace the artistic tattoos on his hands.
"He was a blunt instrument," Cyrus murmured, pulling her securely against his chest. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her sweet, grounding scent. "He did not understand that I will annihilate anyone who attempts to cast a shadow over your light."
Della wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. The intense, magnetic pull between them remained as powerful as the day they married. She was not intimidated by the violence he wielded; she understood it was the impenetrable shield that kept their family safe.
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"Come back to the ballroom with me," Della whispered against his lips. "We have an empire to entertain."
Cyrus smiled, a rare, genuine expression that transformed his movie-star handsome face. "Lead the way, Mrs. Langford."
