Chapter 2 - The Echo of Laughter
The words hung in the heavy air of the study like a physical force.
My husband.
Felix froze, his hand still resting on the grip of his holstered firearm, his jaw dropping open in sheer disbelief. Leo, who had been weeping on the rug, forgot his impending execution entirely and stared at the maid with wide, unblinking eyes.
Harper knelt amidst the shattered crystal, the crimson blood dripping from her cut finger onto the dark rug. The moment the phrase left her lips, her brain registered the catastrophic error. Panic rushed through her veins like ice water, turning her skin completely white.
Lorenzo did not reach for his weapon. He did not roar in anger. He simply stared at the trembling girl on his floor, his dark eyes dilating by a fraction of a millimeter.
For five agonizing seconds, no one breathed.
Then, the unthinkable happened.
The hard, cruel line of Lorenzo’s mouth twitched. The suffocating ice that had surrounded him for five long years fractured. A low, dark sound escaped his chest—a deep, resonant chuckle that swelled into full, genuine laughter.
It was not a soft chuckle; it was the dark, amused laughter of a man who found the sheer absurdity of the situation irresistible. He leaned back in his leather executive chair, a threatening yet real smile spreading across his sharp features.
"Your husband?" Lorenzo repeated, his baritone voice descending into a dark, purring whisper.
Harper’s face burned with such intense heat that her cheeks turned crimson. "I... I meant sir!" she stammered frantically, pressing her bleeding hand against her apron. "Mr. Romano! I misspoke! My mind was... I was confused—"
"Leave the glass," Lorenzo interrupted smoothly. The laughter faded from his tone, but the usual lethal chill was noticeably absent. He glanced over at Felix, who was still standing in stunned silence. "Felix, drag Leo out of here. He’s bleeding on the carpet. Tell the night crew to clean up this mess."
Felix blinked, quickly recovering his composure. "And... the girl, Boss?"
Lorenzo leaned his chin on his steepled fingers, his gaze remaining locked on Harper. "Leave her."
Felix grabbed Leo by his collar, dragging the groaning man out of the study and shutting the heavy mahogany doors behind them.
The quiet in the room was now absolute. Lorenzo stood up from his desk, his tall, imposing figure casting a long shadow over Harper as he walked around the teak furniture. The scent of dark tobacco, sandalwood, and spilled bourbon filled her senses.
He stopped directly in front of her kneeling form. The hem of his wet trousers was inches from her hands.
"You call the head of the Romano syndicate your husband," Lorenzo murmured, bending down slightly until his dark eyes were level with hers. "Either you are the most foolish girl in this city, or the most dangerous."
"I am neither, sir," Harper whispered, tears slipping down her hot cheeks. "I am just exhausted... please..."
Lorenzo looked down at her bleeding finger. He pulled a pristine white silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and dropped it into her lap.
May you like
"Go bandage your hand, wife," he said softly, the word dripping with dark amusement. "We will discuss your bizarre marriage proposal in the morning."
Harper didn't wait for a second instruction. She scrambled to her feet, grabbed the handkerchief, and fled the study as if the devil himself were at her heels.
