Chapter 5
The effect on the room was instantaneous and absolute. The sheer, commanding presence of the mafia boss stripped away the festive atmosphere of the Christmas reception in a heartbeat.
Every single guest at the grand salon stopped eating and speaking. Champagne flutes were lowered slowly back to silver trays. The polite, affluent conversation died entirely in their throats, replaced by a suffocating, terrified vacuum. Fifty faces turned toward the towering Christmas tree, their fair skin paling as they watched Nathaniel Ashford.
Nathaniel did not yell. He did not explode. The absolute stillness of his muscular, masculine frame was infinitely more dangerous than any outburst of rage.
He reached down with his artistically tattooed hand, the heavy signet ring gleaming under the chandelier light. With immense, quiet authority, Nathaniel gently took the black shoe from Elena’s trembling fingers.
He held the shoe over the open box on the walnut table. Slowly, deliberately, he tipped the shoe upside down.
A loud, sharp clatter echoed over the table. Dozens of small, jagged, razor-sharp glass fragments fell out of the shoe, cascading heavily onto the crisp white tissue lining. The broken shards caught the warm fairy lights of the Christmas tree, glittering brightly against the paper like artificial snow.
A collective, quiet gasp rippled through the elite guests standing near the velvet sofas. The sheer, audacious malice of planting shattered glass in a woman's shoes was shocking even to seasoned syndicate members who dealt in violence daily.
Nathaniel stared at the lethal fragments. The realization of what had almost happened to the woman sitting before him—and what his toddler daughter had witnessed—ignited a cold, unyielding fury in his chest.
He did not look at his fiancée. He looked directly at Elena.
"Elena," Nathaniel said, his deep, quiet voice echoing loudly in the dead-silent room.
May you like
He paused, a measured, agonizing silence that hung in the bright air like an executioner's blade. He kept his cold, unwavering gaze locked entirely on the broken, exhausted housemaid.
"What's inside?" Nathaniel asked.
