Chapter 4 - The Black Onyx Ring
Maeve forced her trembling legs to move forward. Each step felt like walking across a bed of hot coals. When she reached the edge of the mahogany desk, Elias stopped his chair, tilting his head up to study her at close range.
At this distance, she could see the faint scar curving just beneath his left eye—a souvenir from some forgotten street war—and the intense, burning intelligence in his gray eyes. He didn't look like a victim of a tragic accident; he looked like a predator testing a new toy to see if it would bite.
Elias reached out, his warm, calloused fingers wrapping around her wrist.
Maeve flinched instinctively, a tiny gasp escaping her lips.
Elias paused, his fingers tightening slightly around her pulse point, feeling the frantic, hummingbird flutter of her heartbeat. A dark, dangerous amusement flickered in his eyes.
"Why are you shaking, Sienna?" he asked quietly, his thumb brushing over her skin. "You've held my hand a thousand times before. Why does my touch feel like a threat today?"
"I... I’m just overwhelmed," Maeve lied, her voice barely above a whisper, keeping her gaze locked onto his chest to avoid looking into his piercing eyes. "Everything has changed so fast. You’re pushing me away, Elias. You’re sitting in this dark room, treating me like an enemy when all I wanted was to be by your side."
Elias let out a low, humorless chuckle. It was a harsh, gravelly sound that held zero warmth.
"By my side?" He released her wrist, leaning back in his wheelchair and running a hand through his dark hair. "Sienna, nobody stays by the side of a man who has lost his throne. My uncle Salvatore spent my entire life teaching me one rule: power is a currency, and sympathy is a counterfeit bill. The moment you stop being dangerous, people stop being loyal."
"I am not my uncle, and I am not Salvatore," Maeve said, her protective instinct for her brother bleeding into her defense, giving her voice a sudden, unexpected spike of genuine fire. "If you want to sit here and wallow in self-pity, believing that everyone in the world is as cynical and transactional as you are, then fine! Go ahead! Lock the doors, burn the bridges, and pretend the whole world hates you! But don't sit there and lecture me about loyalty when I came back through these gates knowing damn well what kind of monster I was walking toward!"
The room went dead silent.
Maeve instantly realized what she had just done. She had yelled at Chicago’s most feared crime boss—a man who executed rivals without blinking. She clamped her mouth shut, her eyes wide with horror, waiting for the security guards to burst through the door and drag her body out to Lake Michigan.
Elias didn't move.
For three full seconds, he sat completely frozen, staring at her with an expression of utter disbelief. No one—not his capos, not his lawyers, not even his uncle Salvatore—had spoken to him like that in over a decade. Sienna certainly never raised her voice unless she wanted a new designer handbag; Sienna whined, she manipulated, she pouted, but she never fought.
Slowly, a strange, dark smile spread across Elias’s face. It wasn't a warm smile, but for the first time since she entered the room, it looked genuinely alive.
"Well," Elias whispered, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the desk. "It seems my quiet, polished fiancée has finally found a spine. Or she’s lost her damn mind."
May you like
He turned the black onyx ring once more.
"Stay for dinner, Sienna," Elias commanded softly, his eyes never leaving her face. "Gabriel will show you to the east wing. We have a lot of things to discuss about our future."
