Chapter 4 - The Brink of War
"So," Celeste said, her voice dripping with venomous mockery, "this is why the great Nikolai Voss abandoned our rehearsal dinner. A filthy little flower girl from the East Quarter."
Nikolai stood up smoothly, stepping between Celeste and Iris with the lethal precision of a coiled viper. The atmosphere in the room plummeted to sub-zero temperatures. "Celeste. You are trespassing in my private quarters. Get out before I have my men drag you down the cliffside."
Celeste laughed, a harsh, brittle sound that echoed off the marble walls. "Your men? Look outside the gates, Nikolai. My father has four dozen armed men surrounding your perimeter. When your right-hand man gave us that pathetic excuse about 'family business,' my father hired a private investigator who tracks your convoy’s satellite transponders. We know who she is. We know she spent the morning at Saint Luke’s Women’s Clinic."
Iris’s blood ran completely cold. She gripped the armrests of the chair, her knuckles turning white. The nightmare was unfolding exactly as Nikolai had warned.
"She is carrying nothing that concerns you, Celeste," Nikolai said, his voice deadly quiet.
"It concerns my family’s money!" Celeste snapped, stepping forward, her eyes blazing with fury. "Our marriage is supposed to merge the waterfront shipping lanes and the city council contracts! The Renard syndicate will not be humiliated by a pregnant bastard born to a nobody! My father gave an order, Nikolai. Either you send this little tramp to a clinic across state lines tonight to terminate the problem, or the alliance is null and void—and we burn every warehouse you own to the ground before sunrise!"
Iris flinched, instinctively curling inward to shield her stomach. The pure malice in Celeste’s voice made her sick to her stomach.
Nikolai didn't yell. He didn't raise his voice. Instead, he reached slowly into his pocket and pulled out his gold cigarette case, placing it deliberately on the side table. That quiet calmness was far more terrifying than any scream.
"You came into my home and threatened an unborn child," Nikolai said, each word dropping like a lead weight. "And you threatened the woman I love."
Iris gasped, looking up at him in shock.
Celeste scoffed, though a flicker of fear finally crossed her painted face. "Love? Don't be pathetic, Nikolai. You don't know the meaning of the word. We have a legal, binding treaty signed by your late father!"
"My father is dead," Nikolai said coldly. "And tomorrow’s wedding is officially canceled."
"You can't cancel it!" Celeste shrieked. "My father will kill you! He will destroy the Voss family!"
"Let him try," a booming voice echoed from the hallway.
Don Hector Renard, an aging patriarch with silver hair and a walking cane topped with a silver wolf’s head, stepped into the room, flanked by Viktor and three Voss enforcers whose guns were drawn and aimed directly at Hector’s spine.
"Hector," Nikolai said, not showing the slightest surprise. "You brought your men to my estate without an invitation. In my world, that is an act of war."
"It doesn't have to be, Nikolai," the older Don said smoothly, his eyes darting to the weapons pointed at him. "My daughter spoke out of turn. But she is right about the treaty. The city needs stability. You marry Celeste tomorrow, and whatever arrangement you have with this girl... we can settle it discreetly. A penthouse in Paris. A trust fund. Nobody has to know."
Nikolai walked slowly toward Hector Renard until they were barely inches apart. Nikolai looked down at the older boss with absolute, terrifying disdain.
"You misunderstand me, Hector," Nikolai whispered. "I am not hiding my child in Paris. I am not hiding the woman who carries my name. Tomorrow at noon, Saint Jude’s Cathedral will host a wedding. But your daughter will not be wearing the veil."
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Nikolai turned his head, pointing a finger toward the door. "Take your daughter. Take your mercenaries. Pull your cars from my gates in ten minutes, or I release the federal offshore bank audits your accountants hid in Geneva. You think I didn't keep collateral before entering this alliance? You have nine minutes, Hector. Run."
Don Hector’s face drained of all color. He grabbed Celeste’s arm with bruising force, his arrogant demeanor shattered in an instant. "We're leaving," he hissed, dragging his protesting daughter out into the hallway as the heavy boots of the Voss guards escorted them toward the exit.
