He stepped closer, his expensive leather shoes clicking sharply on the marble floor.

“And right now, I am very inclined to let them rot at the docks.”

I stood a few paces behind Julian, my fingers tightening around the damp ice pack I had been holding for my wrist.

The draft from the front door smelled of wet pine and oncoming snow.

It chilled the hallway, cutting through the thin fabric of my housekeeper’s uniform.

“You made a promise to my daughter,” the Senator continued, pointing a thick, gloved finger at Julian’s chest.

“Vanessa calls me crying because some low-class maid is causing disruptions in this house.”

He glared at me over Julian’s shoulder, his eyes narrowing under bushy, gray eyebrows.

“She wants this woman gone tonight.”

“And if she isn’t?” Julian’s voice was dangerously quiet.

It was the tone he used when he was deciding how to handle a threat.

“Then the wedding is off, and your transit permits are permanently revoked,” Whitmore said.

He smiled, though there was no warmth in his eyes.

“You think you are untouchable because of your family’s name, but federal oversight is a powerful thing.”