Faye Hartman POV
The formal dining room of the Lakefront Estate felt less like a place for family gatherings and more like a courtroom where sentences were passed before the appetizer was served. The twenty-foot mahogany table was a vast, polished expanse of silence, separating me from the man who now held my life in his hands.
Anthony sat at the head, naturally. The Don. He didn't eat. He simply watched, his storm-gray eyes dissecting Joshua with the precision of a surgeon.
"Seventy-four thousand," Anthony said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried effortlessly over the clinking of silver against china. "That is the deficit for The Onyx Club this quarter. Down to the cent."
Joshua, who had been nervously swirling his wine, choked. He coughed violently, red liquid sloshing onto the pristine white tablecloth like a splatter of fresh blood.
"The market is... volatile," Joshua wheezed, wiping his mouth with a trembling hand. "I've been distracted."
"Distracted," Anthony repeated, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. "By what? Cheap whiskey and cheaper women? While you play at being a man, our enemies are watching for cracks in the foundation."
Joshua shrank into his chair, stripped of all defenses. He looked pathetic. To deflect the heat, his eyes darted to me.
"Faye helps," he blurted out, desperate to prove his household had some worth. "She keeps up appearances."
Anthony's gaze shifted to me. It was a physical weight, heavy and suffocating. "Is that so? And what exactly do you do for this family, Faye? Besides wearing diamonds you didn't earn?"
I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him that I wasn't just a decoration. That under the pseudonym 'Iris,' I had written the very songs that were currently selling out underground jazz bars across the city. That I had a mind, a talent, a soul.
But Joshua cut me off. "She dabbles. Charity galas, garden parties. She's excellent at smiling and saying nothing. A perfect ornament."
My grip on my silver fork tightened until my knuckles turned white. Ornament. The word burned. I stared at my plate, fighting the urge to drive the tines into the table.
"Interesting," Anthony murmured. I looked up and found him studying my hand, specifically the way I was strangling the silverware. A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. He saw the anger I was trying to hide. He saw me. "It seems your assets are being poorly managed, brother."
The air grew thinner as a distant cousin, oblivious to the tension, spoke up from the far end of the table. "Speaking of the club, I heard a rumor about your headliner. Carlotta Rowe. Word is she's pregnant."
The color drained from Joshua's face so fast it was as if he'd been struck.
Anthony didn't blink. He picked up his wine glass, swirling the dark liquid. "A dangerous thing, rumors. But not as dangerous as the truth." He looked directly at Joshua. "You know the Ancient Bloodline laws of our family. Any member who sires a bastard with an Associate—a rat—without the Don's sanction... that child is a stain. And the father is a traitor to his blood. They are erased."
Clatter.
Joshua's fork hit his plate with a deafening noise. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn't hide it. He had just signed his confession without speaking a word.
Panic seized him. He needed a scapegoat, a distraction, anything to pull Anthony's predatory gaze away from his infidelity. He turned on me.
"Faye has been difficult," Joshua stammered, his voice high with fear. "With the family trust documents. She's stubborn. Refuses to sign the transfer of her dowry assets. I told her it's for the family, but she won't listen."
He was selling me out. Again.
Anthony turned his head slowly. "Is she?"
Under the heavy tablecloth, I felt a sudden, firm pressure against my leg. I froze.
Anthony's leg, hard with muscle beneath the expensive wool of his suit, pressed against my shin. Before I could pull away, his knee drove between mine, forcing my legs apart with an arrogant, terrifying strength.
I gasped softly, the sound lost in the room's murmur. I was trapped. Pinned between the table leg and the Don.
"Why are you being uncooperative, Faye?" Anthony asked. His voice above the table was calm, professional, but his eyes were dark with a twisted amusement. Below, his knee widened the wedge between my thighs, a silent, intimate violation that made my skin burn.
"I... I just wanted to read them first," I whispered, my voice trembling. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Joshua was sitting right there, oblivious, while his brother claimed my personal space as his territory.
"Diligence," Anthony said, the pressure of his leg unyielding. "I can appreciate that. But in this family, obedience is a higher virtue."
He held my gaze for a second longer, letting the heat and the humiliation sink in, before abruptly withdrawing his leg. The loss of contact left me feeling cold and exposed.
Anthony stood up, tossing his napkin onto the table. "Dinner is over. Joshua, I have the revised ledgers in my car. You will study them tonight."
Joshua nodded eagerly, looking like a man who had just escaped the gallows. "Of course, Anthony. Anything."
"Good." Anthony buttoned his jacket, his silhouette looming large against the dim light. He didn't look at Joshua. His eyes locked onto mine, dark and commanding.
"My sister-in-law will see me out."
It wasn't a request. It was a Don's Command.
"Go on, Faye," Joshua urged, practically pushing me out of my chair. "Don't keep him waiting."
I stood on shaking legs, my body still humming from the phantom pressure of his touch. I had no choice. I walked toward the door, leaving the safety of the light, following the monster into the darkness.
