Chapter 2
Less than fifty yards away, the cinematic daylight cast striking, deep shadows across the facade of a towering family mausoleum. Damon Cross stepped out from beneath the marble archway. At thirty-five, he was as handsome as a classic movie star, possessing the powerful, deeply masculine, and effortlessly intimidating aura of a veteran Mafia Boss. His fair, rosy skin was flawless, and he wore a heavy black overcoat over a tailored dark three-piece suit. A heavy family signet ring rested on his finger, catching the brilliant, white light.
He was walking along the adjoining cemetery path, flanked slightly by two of his adult bodyguards in professional dark suits, when a sharp, echoing slap brought him to a sudden halt.
Damon turned his head. Through the bright, vivid greens of the cemetery lawn, he saw a woman crash to her knees in the mud. He saw the black maid uniform. He saw the ivory coat of the woman standing over her.
Damon’s piercing eyes narrowed. He silently changed direction, his polished leather shoes crunching methodically against the gravel path. He walked straight toward the disturbance, his bodyguards matching his lethal, unhurried pace.
"You are going to a clinic this afternoon, Grace," Marcus Caldwell was saying, his American accent laced with cold authority. "We have already made the arrangements. The Caldwell family will not be blackmailed by a pregnant servant."
"I am not blackmailing anyone!" Grace sobbed, her hands remaining fiercely locked over her stomach. "The baby isn't his! I haven't asked you for a single dime!"
"Do not lie to my face," Vanessa snapped, pointing a trembling, manicured finger at the girl in the mud. "My husband confessed everything! He told me how you threw yourself at him!"
Grace looked up, the blood on her lip stark against her fair skin. As her tear-filled eyes shifted past Vanessa's ivory coat, she froze.
Damon was approaching. His tailored overcoat billowed slightly in the crisp breeze. The sheer, overwhelming power radiating from his masculine frame seemed to suck the oxygen right out of the air. Grace recognized him immediately. The breath caught in her throat, her chest heaving as she stared at the Mafia Boss.
Vanessa and Marcus, entirely oblivious to the apex predator stalking up behind them, continued their verbal assault.
"You will get in the car, Grace," Marcus ordered, stepping forward and reaching down to grab her arm. "Or I will drag you by your hair."
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"Don't touch me!" Grace screamed, shrinking back against her mother's gravestone.
No other dialogue was spoken before a shadow fell over Marcus. Damon stopped directly behind the Senator's son, his expression a mask of terrifying, absolute calm under the bright, natural light.
