After dinner, the men retreated to the lounge to drink, smoke, and discuss whatever business needed their attention. I returned to my room, but sleep refused to come. Restless, I wrapped a bathrobe over my pajamas and slipped out, my bare feet soundless against the cold marble floors. My pulse quickened as I took the passage leading to the secret door behind the lounge wall. My grandfather had insisted on secret escapes in the office and lounge, believing they would be necessary for the men of the family. But I always wondered—what did he think would happen to the women left behind?
Savannah was already there, her eye pressed against the peephole. Of course, she was. At the sound of my approach, she turned sharply, shoulders rigid, but her expression softened when she saw me.
"What's happening?" I whispered, my voice barely a breath, afraid the men inside might overhear us.
Savannah moved aside so I could peer through the second peephole. "Most of them are gone. Father and Ethan are speaking with Marcus Romano. Only Liam and his people are left."
I squinted through the hole, getting a clear view of the chairs circling the fireplace. Liam leaned against the marble ledge, one arm resting on the mantel, a glass of Scotch in his other hand. His posture was relaxed, but there was an edge to him, a tightly coiled restraint beneath the surface. His brother, Rafael, sprawled in an armchair beside him, legs wide apart, his signature cocky grin in place. Jace and the other bodyguard, whom they had called Gio at dinner, occupied the remaining seats. Gio looked close to Rafael's age—eighteen, barely men by society's standards, but in our world, they had seen more blood than most soldiers.
"It could've been worse," Rafael said, smirking. He didn't carry Liam's aura of absolute menace, but the gleam in his eyes was just as dangerous. "She could've been ugly. But, damn, your little fiancée is a sight. That dress. That body. That hair and those eyes."
He whistled lowly, and I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. My stomach twisted, a mix of humiliation and fury knotting inside me.
"She's a child," Liam said flatly, his voice cold as steel.
A flash of anger burned through me, but I should've been relieved he didn't look at me like a man looked at a woman.
"Didn't look like a child to me," Rafael countered, then nudged Jace. "What do you think? Is Liam blind?"
Jace barely glanced up, his expression unreadable. "I didn't look at her closely."
"And you, Gio? You got working eyes?"
Gio flicked his gaze up, then quickly downed the rest of his drink, refusing to answer.
Rafael threw his head back and laughed. "Jesus, Liam, did you tell your men you'd rip their throats out if they looked at her? You aren't even married yet."
Liam's grip tightened around his glass, his knuckles turning white. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, but it sent an icy chill down my spine. "She's mine."
The room stilled. Even through the peephole, I could feel the weight of his words settle over the men like a vice.
Rafael let out a low whistle. "For the next three years, you'll be in New York while she's here. You can't always keep an eye on her. What are you going to do? Threaten every man in Chicago? You can't kill them all." He smirked. "Maybe Charles knows a few eunuchs who can guard her."
Liam tilted his glass, swirling the amber liquid inside, his gaze unreadable. "Jace, find the two fools assigned to guard Emily."
My breath hitched at the sound of my name rolling off his tongue. A name he had barely spoken to me directly. I didn't even know I had guards now. Salvatore had always been the one to look out for me and my sisters.
Jace left without a word and returned ten minutes later with Salvatore and Rico, both of whom looked irritated at being summoned like misbehaving children. My father trailed behind them, his expression a mask of cold indifference.
"What is the meaning of this?" Father demanded, his voice laced with impatience.
Liam didn't look away. Didn't flinch. "I want to have a word with the men you chose to protect what's mine."