Chapter 7 - The Unspoken Rule|
"Please, sir," Fay begged softly, tears threatening to spill again. "It doesn't matter. I just need to keep my job. My mother—"
"Your job is not in jeopardy," Vincent said, cutting her off with absolute authority. "Your safety in this house, however, appears to be. I will ask you one last time, Fay. Who put his hands on you?"
The sheer intensity radiating from him was overwhelming. For three years, she had viewed Vincent Cross as a distant, dangerous monarch. Now, standing inches from him in the sterile glare of the kitchen lights, she saw the terrifying truth: he was a apex predator, and someone in his house had breached his territory.
Fay's lower lip trembled. The terror of Donovan's threat warred against the raw, lethal promise in Vincent's dark eyes.
"Donovan," she whispered, the name barely escaping her lips. "Capo Donovan. It was during the dinner party... near the eastern hallway."
Vincent did not roar or slam his fist against the counter. He didn't even blink. He simply absorbed the name, his posture shifting almost imperceptibly as a terrifying calm washed over his features.
"Donovan," Vincent repeated softly, as if testing the weight of the name on his tongue.
He lowered his hand from her chin, but he didn't step back. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a pristine linen handkerchief, and stepped closer.
"He grabbed your arm first," Vincent stated, pointing to the faint red marks lingering on her forearm.
"Yes, sir," Fay whispered.
Vincent wrapped his fingers gently around her wrist, elevating her arm to inspect the marks. "He broke glass. He shoved you into the wall."
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"How do you... how do you know that?" she gasped.
"Because I know everything that happens under my roof," Vincent replied quietly. "I saw the glass on the floor earlier. I saw the blood on the hardwood. I assumed it was a careless butler until I found you hiding down here."
