Chapter 3
The continuous, muted clatter of silver cutlery against porcelain plates came to a sudden, jarring halt. The bright, airy lighting of the dining hall seemed to sharpen, acting as a high-definition spotlight on the silent tension escalating at the head of the family table.
Kieran did not hesitate. He moved with a fluid, terrifying masculine grace. His broad, powerful shoulders shifted beneath the tailored dark suit as he stepped smoothly around the edge of the table. In one deliberate, protective motion, Kieran placed his towering frame entirely between Miranda and the pair of Annie and Flora.
He acted as an impenetrable physical wall, shielding the fragile housemaid and the young girl from his fiancée.
Kieran looked down, meeting Annie’s eyes. He saw the sheer, unadulterated terror swimming in her gaze, but beneath it, he recognized a fierce, unyielding devotion to his child.
“Annie. What happened to your face?”
Kieran’s voice was deep, low, and incredibly deliberate. The question dropped into the silent, luminous room like a heavy stone into still water.
Every single guest at the massive, crowded tables stopped eating and speaking. The melodic hum of polite conversations died completely. Men in expensive formal wear and women in satin gowns turned their heads in unison, their fair, rosy faces locking onto the head of the table. The silence was absolute, heavy with the terrifying realization that the apex predator of their world had just halted his own engagement dinner to interrogate a servant.
Miranda swallowed hard, sinking her manicured nails into the palms of her hands. She forced herself to step forward slightly, refusing to be sidelined in front of the entire syndicate. She looked directly at Kieran, projecting an aura of complete, unbothered calm.
“One slap. Annie needed correcting.”
Miranda’s tone was casually reasonable, her American accent smooth and airy. She delivered the words as though the explanation should entirely excuse her violence, as if she were discussing the discipline of an unruly pet. A faint, dismissive smile played on her lips.
Her eyes carefully and frantically searched Kieran's angular face for any sign of agreement, any indication that he accepted her authority over the household staff. She waited for him to nod, to dismiss the maid and return the focus to the dinner.
May you like
Kieran did not smile back. He did not nod. The extremely short stubble on his jawline seemed to harden into absolute granite. He remained completely, terrifyingly silent.
Seeing his impassive, cold expression, Miranda's confident smile stiffened into a rigid, brittle line. The suffocating silence of the dining hall pressed in on her. The bright, clear illumination offered absolutely no shadows for her cruelty to hide within. She realized, with a sudden spike of panic, that her casual dismissal had utterly failed to defuse the bomb she had planted in the center of the room.
