Chapter 9 - The Public Defense
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The foyer fell completely, devastatingly silent.
Selene’s triumphant smirk vanished, replaced by sheer, unadulterated shock. She stumbled backward, clutching the white mink coat against her chest.
“Damian,” Selene stammered, her voice high and panicked. “It was an accident! I tripped!”
“You do not trip when you are standing perfectly still, Selene,” Damian replied coldly, finally turning his dark eyes toward her. The absolute contempt in his gaze was enough to freeze boiling water.
Several late-arriving guests, including a few high-ranking syndicate members, had stopped in their tracks, watching the scene unfold. To humiliate a fiancée in public was a massive violation of mafia etiquette. It meant the engagement was fractured, perhaps entirely broken.
“You are defending a maid over your future wife?” Selene hissed, her pride overriding her survival instincts. She pointed a shaking finger at me. “She is nothing! She is the help!”
“She possesses more dignity in her ruined apron than you do in a million dollars worth of diamonds,” Damian stated smoothly.
He didn't wait for her response. He turned back to me.
“Leave the booth, Nora,” Damian commanded gently. “Your shift is over.”
“Sir, the manager—” I started, terrified of the consequences.
“I own the hotel,” Damian interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Go home. I will have my driver take you.”
I nodded slowly, untying the stained apron and leaving it on the counter. I stepped out of the booth, feeling the burning stares of the elite guests.
Selene looked like she was going to scream. She took a step toward Damian, desperation clouding her eyes. “Damian, please, don't do this here. My father is in the ballroom.”
“Your father is exactly who I need to speak to,” Damian said, his voice dropping into a register that promised absolute violence. “Because a shipment of mine was intercepted at the docks an hour ago. Exactly according to the schedule you stole from my safe on Thursday night.”
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Selene stopped breathing. The blood completely drained from her face. She realized, in that horrifying moment, that she hadn't outsmarted the king. She had walked directly into the executioner's block.
I didn't stay to watch the fallout. I walked out the front doors of the hotel, stepping into the waiting black car, knowing the world inside that ballroom was about to burn to the ground.
