“And an excellent idea,” I say quietly. “In fact, I think you all should.”
The room goes dead quiet. For one suspended beat, no one moves.
Then I smile.
“What?” I ask. “You object? I thought it was just water.”
That gets them moving. One by one, they obey. Not becausethey want to. Because they understand the alternative is worse. The guards try to keep their hands steady. The cook mutters a prayer before lifting the glass. One of the maids is already crying so hard she nearly spills it down the front of her uniform.
Let them choke on their fear.
Within minutes, the first one bends double. Then another. A third grabs the edge of the counter, face draining white as sweat beads across his brow. One of the guards lets out a low curse and stumbles into the wall. The maid who carried the tray slides to her knees, clutching her stomach, a strangled whimper tearing out of her.
And me?
I feel nothing. Not pity. Not regret. Certainly not mercy. Only the cold satisfaction of watching them learn exactly what kind of line they crossed.
“You’re all fired,” I say.
The words drop into the room like stones in deep water.
No one protests. They’re too busy writhing.
I turn to Cesaro. “Find me a new crew.”
“On it.”
I leave them there. Crumpled on the tile. Begging to a God who has no place in my house tonight.
By the time I reach my study, the rage in me has gone cold enough to be useful. I close the door behind me and brace one hand on the desk. This doesn’t feel like Russo. That is what keeps scraping at the inside of my skull. If he truly believes Elizabeth is carrying his child, why the hell would he poison her? Why would he risk the baby? Men like Russo might destroy rivals. They do not usually destroy their own blood before it’s even born. Unless he’s more monstrous than I thought.
My phone rings. I stare at it for a second and then curse under my breath. Fuck.
I answer on the fourth ring. “This is Conti.”
“Where in the hell are you, boy?” Federico Marino snaps. “And why is my daughter alone in your home?”
His voice hits the line like acid.
My mouth curves, but there is nothing kind in it. “You do not address me like that, old man. Try again. This time with respect.”
When he speaks again, the fury is still there, but now it’s wrapped in something more careful. “If I find out you’re with that woman?—”
“You’ll what?” I cut in with a sharp laugh. “You’re powerless, Marino, which is why you sold your only daughter to me in the first place. So I’d be very careful what comes out of your mouth next.”
His breathing roughens.
“People talk, Conti,” he says at last. “I think you’d be smart to remember that.”
I go still. Not because of the threat. Because of the wording.
Notmy daughter is upset. Notcome home. Not evenyour name is being dragged through the mud.
That woman.
Very few people know Elizabeth is here. Fewer still would be stupid enough to speak of her outside these walls.
I lean back in the chair and lower my voice until it turns dangerous. “Tell me something, Federico. When exactly did people start talking?”
