“Choose one.” Barrett Hayes’s voice sliced through the ballroom on the eighty-eighth floor of the Ashford Tower. I stood against the far wall with an empty silver tray pressed tightly against my ribs,

The Grand Plaza ballroom was a den of vipers dressed in haute couture.

When the brass doors parted, a collective hush fell over the room. Kendrick Ashford entered, an undisputed warlord in a bespoke tuxedo. On his right arm, I walked in an emerald silk backless gown that hugged every curve, my hair pinned up with heirloom diamond clips.

At our side walked Titan, wearing a tactical leather harness embossed with the silver crest of the Ashford syndicate.

Every eye turned toward us. The murmurs were venomous.

“Is that the waitress?”

“She looks like a queen...”

“Barrett will tear him apart for this disrespect.”

At the center of the ballroom stood Barrett Hayes, surrounded by four of the other family dons. His daughter, Victoria—the heiress Kendrick had snubbed—glared at me with pure, unadulterated malice.

“Kendrick,” Barrett boomed, swirling a glass of vintage cognac. “You actually brought the servant girl. How generous of you to bring charity into our council chambers.”

Victoria stepped forward, looking down her nose at me. “Tell me, Maya, isn't it? Did you steal that necklace from the master suite, or did you have to beg on your knees for it?”

A deadly silence enveloped the perimeter. Men reached discreetly beneath their jackets for concealed pistols.

I felt Kendrick’s muscles coil beside me, his hand slipping toward the custom Kimber .45 concealed beneath his jacket. Bloodshed was seconds away.

If Kendrick drew his gun first, the other six families would unite against him under council law. It was a trap. Barrett was goading Kendrick into breaking the treaty.

I couldn't let him die. Not when Penny was waiting for him at home.

Before Kendrick could move, I stepped forward, slipping my arm free of his grip. Titan growled softly, but I kept my chin high, looking Victoria dead in the eye.

“Miss Hayes,” I said, my voice steady, ringing clearly across the ballroom. “If I had to beg for anything, it would be for you to find a tailor who knows how to hem a gown. That shade of red screams desperation, not royalty. And as for my place? I was chosen by Kendrick Ashford’s daughter and defended by his hound. You couldn't even command the attention of a dog.”

A sharp gasp rippled through the gathered elite.

Victoria’s face turned bright crimson. Barrett’s eyes flared with murderous intent. “You insolent little b—”

Barrett raised his hand as if to strike me.

In a fraction of a second, Kendrick intercepted him.

The sound of Barrett’s wrist snapping echoed like a gunshot.

Kendrick didn't even blink as Barrett screamed, dropping to his knees on the marble floor. Kendrick held the shattered wrist with effortless cruelty, his silver eyes flashing with primal fury.

“Touch her,” Kendrick whispered, his voice like dry leaves scraping over a tombstone, “and I won’t just kill you, Barrett. I will wipe your bloodline from every record on this continent.”

He released the screaming mob boss, who collapsed into the arms of his panicked bodyguards.

Kendrick reached out, grabbed my hand, and laced his fingers firmly through mine.

“We’re leaving,” he declared to the silent room.

As we turned, I saw the fear in the eyes of the other dons. But as we stepped into the private courtyard, I caught something else in the reflection of the glass doors.