The heavy suite door clicked shut, sealing them in a sudden, suffocating silence.
Ivette was the first to break it. Her voice was a trembling, fearful wreck of what it had been moments before. "Mr. Griffith, this has to be a misunderstanding! You can't marry her!"
Ace looked at her, his expression flat and cold. "Do I need your permission to do anything?"
Desperation made Ivette reckless. She started spewing venom, her last resort. "She's not worthy of you! She's a manipulative, ungrateful liar! Her reputation is garbage all over New York!"
She whirled on Alexandrea, her face twisted with malice. "You think you can escape me by latching onto him? You're nothing but trash in your bones!"
Alexandrea flinched at every word, pulling the jacket tighter around herself. She lowered her head, letting her long hair fall like a curtain, hiding her face.
Ace's gaze grew even colder. "Her reputation?" he cut in, his voice dangerously soft. "The one you so carefully crafted for her?"
Ivette's breath caught in her throat.
"A mother," Ace continued, his words slow and deliberate, like a surgeon's scalpel, "whose first instinct, after her daughter has potentially been assaulted, is not to call the police, not to offer comfort, but to bring reporters to photograph her at her most vulnerable. Are you grieving for her, Mrs. Terry, or are you enjoying the show?"
His words stripped her bare, exposing the ugly truth beneath her maternal act. Ivette was speechless, her face a mask of pale horror.
As he looked at the cowering woman, he felt a surge of protective fury unlike anything he had ever known. The sight of her, so broken and small under the weight of Ivette's cruelty, contrasted so sharply with the viciousness of her accuser. He didn't need to know her story to see the injustice playing out before him. A raw, primal instinct took over, a need to shield this stranger from the monster in front of them.
He knew, with absolute certainty, that no person deserved this kind of torment. The girl trembling under his jacket was a victim, and the woman spitting venom was a predator. It was that simple.
His gaze returned to the present, to the girl with her head bowed, and his expression softened for a fraction of a second.
His resolve hardened into steel. He was going to have this girl. He was going to protect her.
He turned back to Ivette, his voice leaving no room for argument. "From this day forward, Alexandrea is my responsibility. The Terry family will stay out of it."
Ivette opened her mouth, another protest ready, but the words died when she met his eyes. They were completely devoid of emotion, as cold and final as a tomb. She knew that one more word could bring ruin upon her entire family.
She shot Alexandrea one last, hateful glare before turning and fleeing the room like a cornered animal.
Now, they were alone.
The silence in the room was different. It was heavy with unspoken questions.
Alexandrea finally lifted her head. Her eyes, red-rimmed and wary, met his.
"What... what do you really want?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, but edged with suspicion.
Ace closed the distance between them. He knelt down, bringing himself to her eye level. The unexpected gesture made her stiffen, unsure how to react.
He looked directly at her, his gray eyes holding hers. "I want exactly what I said," he stated, his voice low and steady. "I'm going to marry you."
It wasn't a proposal. It was a declaration of fact.
---
