Chapter 4
From across the polished marble floor, Adrian Cross continued to converse with the wealthy donors, but his hyper-vigilant senses were already on alert. He excused himself from a conversation about real estate, his broad shoulders parting the sea of guests.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, I need to check on my son," Adrian stated, his deep voice leaving no room for argument.
"Of course, Adrian," a donor nodded respectfully, stepping aside.
Adrian walked slowly, his dark eyes scanning the perimeter of the room. He spotted the towering Christmas tree, and beneath its glowing fairy lights, he saw his fiancée. Serena Vale was a vision in her emerald satin gown, the rich fabric clinging perfectly to her figure. Heavy diamond earrings flashed with every tilt of her head. She was holding a plain, sealed white envelope in her manicured hands, tapping it lightly against her leg.
"Serena is moving with purpose," Vincent noted quietly, shadowing his boss.
"Stay here," Adrian ordered his capo, picking up his pace. "Do not let anyone follow me."
Adrian watched as Serena closed the distance between herself and the trembling maid who had just entered the room holding his son's hand. He recognized Clara instantly. He had always noticed her gentle nature, the quiet, respectful way she cared for Finn when the rest of the world was too busy.
But as he drew closer, Adrian saw the crooked white ruffled headband. He saw the disheveled strands of her hair framing her pale face, and the terrified, rigid way she was holding herself.
Before Adrian could cross the room to speak to her, Serena stepped directly into Clara's path.
"Ah, there is our clumsy little servant," Serena noted, her voice carrying a sweet, poisonous lilt that only the housemaid could truly decipher.
Clara froze. Her hands gripped the fabric of her rumpled white apron so tightly her fingers ached. She wanted to turn and run, but she was trapped in the luminous, crowded salon, surrounded by fifty dangerous guests.
Serena maintained her polished, flawless public smile, ensuring that any watching guests saw only a benevolent future wife checking on the staff. But her eyes burned with a malicious, lethal triumph.
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"I have a message for you, Clara," Serena commanded quietly, her American accent dripping with condescending superiority. She raised the plain sealed envelope slightly, a physical representation of the extortion she was holding over the maid's head.
Adrian narrowed his eyes, his artistic tattoos flexing as he quickened his pace. He moved with absolute, predatory precision, determined to intercept whatever poison his fiancée was about to spit at the woman protecting his son.
