Chapter 8
The sting of Liza's palm against Theo's cheek echoed through the dining hall. The maids and bodyguards standing nearby froze, their eyes wide with shock, their fear recognizable. No one dared to move, every gaze flicking to Theo, waiting for his reaction.
For a moment, Theo stood still, his expression unreadable. Then, in one swift motion, he grabbed Liza by the shoulders and turned her toward the table, his grip firm but controlled. With a push, he pinned her against the polished wood, her back to him and her breath caught in her throat. She could feel the heat of his presence behind her,
He leaned close, his voice a low, dangerous murmur in her ear. "Do that again, Phoenixia," he said, his tone like ice, "and you'll regret it. You'll be up all night learning exactly who's in control here."
Liza clenched her fists, her pulse racing, but she forced herself not to react, her defiance simmering just beneath the surface. She refused to let him see her fear or her anger. She knew she had crossed a line, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of backing down.
Theo's grip relaxed, and he released her, stepping back with an air of calm control. The maids and guards watched, holding their breath, and Theo gave them a subtle nod. Slowly, they resumed their duties, though the tension lingered in the room like a dark cloud.