My eyes cut across the room—Cosa Nostrasoldiers stand like statues by the door, Bolton positioned against the marble wall, watchful, and there, by the reception desk, waits Eleanor, anxiety coiled in her posture.
I turn to her, smile practised.
“You know, Eleanor, this isn’t personal,” I say, crossing to stand before her. “I simply cannot abide your influence over my little deer. Bolton will escort you to your car.”
My words land like an axe.
I want nothing more than to reach for my sweet girl, cup her face, look deep into her dual-coloured gaze and remind her she’s more than the scars she carries. I have spent years shaping her pride from tatters, building her confidence—only to watch it threatened again.
Fuck it.
I narrow my gaze at Eleanor.
She scoffs, voice stiff. “She invited me here. I had to drive through traffic. I hate city driving!” She clutches herleather handbag as though it might shield her. I wonder if she’s hiding a weapon in it. “What reservations do you have, Mr Butcher? I’m a gold member of Social Services. Do you think you’re better for her than I am? I don’t know what Fawn has told you about me, but she’s such an airy-fairy girl?—”
“Careful.” I step forwards until the space between us feels taut. “I’m utterly besotted with her.”
Her knuckles whiten around the bag. “She has a talent for confusing good men.”
I let my smile stretch just a fraction wider. “Do I look confused to you?”
Eleanor staggers backwards, then steels herself. “No?—”
I clasp my hands in front of me, eyes blazing. “The world is a pit of vipers, Eleanor. I built my empire on knowing who’s worth my trust—and who deserves to be swept…” I flick my tongue. “Downriver.”
My gaze pans across the showroom’s patrons, taking in two bridal parties frozen mid-whisper, sales staff hovering on the periphery. And my soldiers, alert, ready.
I return my attention to the woman who made my sweet girl question herself.
Eleanor squares her shoulders, puffing her chest out defiantly. “I know where Fawn comes from. I know who she is.”
I sneer, a low rumble in my throat. “Do you? Do you know the darkness they dragged her into?” I deepen my voice, rendering it almost a growl. “The basement where her innocence was stolen? Or the way she clings to stars and dreamcatchers to keep her soul alive?” I step closer, so close I can count the tremors in her breathing. “I’m her protector. Her happiness matters more to me than you could ever fathom.”
She steps backwards—once.
Tiny. Mild.
Her chin quivers, boldness wrestling with fear, but shepresses on. “Her happiness?” She raises her voice, reaching for support from our onlookers. Calling attention. “Or your need for domination, Mr Butcher?”
I tilt my head. Pause.
She has guts.
I’ll give her that.
Disrespectful, too.
I let a smile fall easily to my lips—dangerous and almost tender. “Sometimes they’re one and the same, se?”
“You hide behind that suit, but you’re a monster—and the entire city knows it.” A terrified burst of laughter crackles in the air. “Fawn knows too. She’s not so blind?—”
“Hide? I am in plain sight.” I smooth my voice, so soft and calm it cuts clearer than any shout. “And my sweet girl knows who the villain is, as did your boys.”
I let that last line drop. Hard.
She staggers, eyes widening in sudden realization, as if a memory too horrible to bear flickers behind her gaze. She edges away. “What… What did you do to them? My boys? That woman—she told me she was investigating you. She wanted a statement. It’s all true!”
Lorna…
