Chapter 3 - The Lion’s Den
By noon the following day, the news had shattered every gossip column in Manhattan.
MAID TO MERCENARY’S BRIDE: CASSIAN VOSS TO WED BLACKTHORN SERVANT.
Elena sat in the back of a blacked-out Rolls-Royce Phantom, looking out at the iron gates of the Voss Estate in Upstate New York. Beside her, Cassian was reviewing financial documents on his tablet, looking immaculately handsome in a charcoal-grey suit.
"They are going to tear me apart, aren't they?" Elena asked softly, looking down at her new clothes—a tailored cream silk blouse and dark trousers that Cassian’s personal stylist had delivered to her modest apartment hours earlier.
Cassian set his tablet down and turned to her. "The media? The board? They will try. But they can only hurt you if you care about their opinions. Remember who you are, Elena. A woman who can master Kowalski in C Minor doesn't need to apologize to people who can barely read a balance sheet."
The car pulled up to a grand gothic mansion built of dark stone, overlooking a mist-shrouded lake. As the chauffeur opened the door, a woman in her late fifties stepped down the grand front steps. She was dressed in a pristine navy suit, her hair styled in a severe silver bun.
"That is Mrs. Gable, my estate manager," Cassian muttered as they stepped out. "She ran the household for my father. She is... traditional."
Mrs. Gable walked up to them, her cold blue eyes assessing Elena from head to toe. She didn't hide her disapproval.
"Welcome home, Mr. Voss," Mrs. Gable said formally, before turning a cool stare toward Elena. "And this must be the... young lady from the catering service."
Elena felt the familiar prickle of heat behind her neck, but before she could speak, Cassian’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
"This is Miss Marlow, Mrs. Gable. My fiancée. And the future mistress of this estate. You will address her as Ma'am, or as Mrs. Voss following our wedding next week."
Mrs. Gable stiffened, her jaw tightening. "Of course, sir. Forgive me. I have prepared the guest suite in the West Wing for Miss Marlow."
"The master suite," Cassian corrected sharply. "Elena will take the master suite. Move my things to the adjoining study."
Mrs. Gable looked shocked. "Sir, your father’s rules—"
"My father is dead, Mrs. Gable," Cassian said quietly, his tone dropping into that terrifying register that commanded immediate obedience. "And I run this house now. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Mr. Voss. Perfectly," Mrs. Gable swallowed hard, bowing her head. "I will have the luggage brought up immediately."
As Mrs. Gable hurried inside, Elena looked at Cassian. "You didn't have to do that. I could have stayed in the guest room."
"No," Cassian said, offering his hand to guide her up the stone steps. "If we are going to survive the next three months before the board meeting, we must present an unbroken front. In this house, your word is law. Never let anyone here see you doubt your place."
As they stepped into the grand foyer—a magnificent space featuring soaring ceilings, dark wood paneling, and a sweeping marble staircase—Elena froze.
Sitting in the center of the grand hall was a breathtaking instrument: a 9-foot Steinway & Sons Model D concert grand piano, crafted from polished ebony wood.
Elena walked toward it as if drawn by a spell. She ran her fingers lightly across the fallboard. The wood was warm, pristine, and perfectly tuned.
"It arrived two hours ago," Cassian said quietly, standing behind her. "I had my team procure it from the New York Philharmonic's private collection."
Elena turned to him, her heart swelling with an emotion she couldn't quite name. "Cassian... this must have cost a fortune."
"It cost what it was worth," Cassian replied, stepping closer until she could feel the heat radiating from his chest. "I promised you a piano, Elena. I always keep my promises."
For a long moment, they stood together in the quiet foyer, the distance between them dissolving. But before the moment could deepen, a phone rang loudly from Cassian’s pocket.
May you like
He pulled it out, glanced at the caller ID, and his expression instantly hardened back into ice.
"It’s Victor Hale," Cassian said. "He’s called an emergency meeting of the board for tomorrow afternoon. He claims he has information that will invalidate our engagement."
