Chapter 30
Della stared at him, her delicate cheekbones illuminated by the chandelier light. "Do you believe a foundation built by the Langford family is desperate for foreign charity?" Della asked softly, her tone dropping into a freezing register.
Vance’s arrogant smile faltered slightly. He had expected a submissive, naive socialite. He was looking into the eyes of a predator.
Before Vance could recover his composure, the temperature in the immediate vicinity plummeted to absolute zero. Cyrus Langford stepped seamlessly out of the shadows, materializing directly behind Della. His broad, powerful shoulders entirely blocked the light, casting a long, imposing shadow over the federal prosecutor.
"Are you attempting to negotiate logistics with my wife in the middle of a ballroom, Elias?" Cyrus asked. His deep, low voice rolled through the space, the measured pauses striking like a physical blow.
Vance took a heavy step backward, his rosy skin paling slightly at the sudden, terrifying proximity of the undisputed king of the underworld. His three bodyguards instinctively reached for their concealed weapons.
"Langford," Vance grunted, attempting to regain his footing. "This is a simple business discussion. A mutually beneficial arrangement."
"Does a mutually beneficial arrangement require the intimidation of the woman who owns this city?" Cyrus inquired, his cold, perceptive eyes locking onto Vance. The artistic tattoos on his hands flexed as he gently placed his palms on Della’s waist, claiming her with fierce, proprietary devotion.
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"I meant no disrespect," Vance lied, sweat beading on his forehead. "I simply wanted to finalize the donation tonight."
"Then we will finalize it in my study," Cyrus commanded smoothly. "Unless you prefer to finalize it on the marble floor."
