"Open up," Richard whispered affectionately. Even though his lips were curved into a breathtaking smile, his dark eyes were blazing with a lethal intensity, silently demanding her absolute, unquestioning obedience in this twisted theatrical performance.
Clara slowly parted her lips. The golden fork slipped inside. The savory, expensive meat instantly turned entirely to ash on her tongue.
As she forced herself to chew, the harrowing image of the thick plastic ventilator tube shoved down her little brother's throat violently flashed behind her eyes. Swallowing the food felt exactly like swallowing jagged shards of broken glass.
"Is it delicious?" Richard asked smoothly. His hand reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"It is absolutely wonderful." Clara elegantly picked up a linen napkin. With a devastatingly soft motion that made her want to violently empty her stomach, she gently dabbed the corner of Richard's mouth. "But you need to eat as well. You can't just spend the entire morning spoiling me."
The performance was incredibly twisted. Two people who completely despised each other, bound together by a ten-million-dollar blood contract and sheer extortion, were now flawlessly playing the role of deeply infatuated newlyweds right in front of their enemy's primary spy.
Mrs. Higgins let out a soft, highly calculated cough. "Is the breakfast entirely to your liking, Madam?"
"It is absolutely perfect, Mrs. Higgins," Clara replied, injecting as much artificial warmth into her voice as possible. "Thank you so much."
"Mr. Sterling generally despises eating his meals with anyone other than his executive assistant," Mrs. Higgins noted. Her tone was carefully disguised as a polite compliment, but the underlying sentence was a razor-sharp, heavily weighted trap. "Seeing the Master being so incredibly attentive... I am absolutely certain the Senior Chairman, Arthur Sterling, will be incredibly pleased to hear it."
The old phantom's name was dropped onto the table like a live grenade. It was an absolute, undeniable reminder of who this woman truly reported to.
Richard's breathtaking smile instantly vanished. The temperature in the sprawling dining room violently plummeted to sub-zero.
"Do give my warmest regards to my beloved uncle," Richard stated, his voice dropping into a freezing, lethal octave. His dark eyes locked onto the housekeeper with pure malice. "And be sure to remind him that I absolutely do not require paid corporate wardens to manage my own private household."
Mrs. Higgins offered a stiff, formal bow, expertly hiding the sly, calculating gleam in her eyes. "Understood, Sir. If you will excuse me, I must return to the kitchen."
The woman turned on her heel and swiftly disappeared through the heavy swinging doors.
The exact millisecond the door clicked completely shut, the artificial, suffocating warmth at the table vanished entirely into thin air.
Richard violently yanked his hand away from Clara's shoulder as if she were infected with a highly contagious disease. He snatched a napkin and aggressively wiped his fingers.
Clara didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. She instantly shoved her heavy chair backward, putting as much physical distance between them as possible. She grabbed her crystal goblet and practically chugged the ice water, desperately trying to drown the violent nausea that had been aggressively building in her stomach.
"What an absolutely nauseating performance," Clara hissed under her breath, glaring at her half-empty plate.
Richard let out a dry, cynical scoff. He picked up his espresso cup, completely unfazed.
"You had better get used to it. That woman is going to report every single breath you take directly to my uncle," Richard stated flatly. He picked up his tablet, instantly transforming back into the untouchable, tyrannical CEO.
Clara remained entirely silent. She knew Richard was right. Arthur's invisible spies were lurking in every single shadow of this massive penthouse.
But Clara also knew, with absolute, terrifying certainty, that the most dangerous monster in the entire city was currently sitting right next to her, casually sipping his coffee.
She slammed her goblet down. She braced her hands on the table, preparing to stand up and lock herself back inside her bedroom. Just breathing the same oxygen as the man who had nearly slaughtered her brother was rapidly shredding her sanity.
But before Clara could even fully stand, Richard suddenly lunged forward. He leaned his massive frame aggressively across the table, completely obliterating the distance she had just tried to create.
He stared intensely into Clara's eyes. His dark, fathomless gaze held a lethal, terrifying secret.
"Your acting was actually quite impressive this morning, Clara," Richard whispered. His voice was incredibly low, vibrating with a dark, lethal threat. "It was almost as convincing as the pathetic little performance you put on outside my study door last night."
All the blood in Clara's body instantly froze solid. Her breath caught violently in her throat.
Slowly, deliberately, Richard extended his right hand. He placed a tiny, incredibly significant object right in the dead center of the mahogany table.
Clara's entire world violently crashed down around her.
It was a small, slightly crushed matchbook bearing the gold crest of the Sterling Plaza Hotel. The exact same matchbook Clara had used to burn Arthur's red note in her bathroom sink just hours ago.
"The next time you happen to get thirsty in the middle of the night," Richard hissed. The corner of his mouth slowly curled upward into a terrifying, demonic smirk. "Make absolutely certain you do not leave traces of burnt paper ash in your pristine porcelain sink. Now, tell me, my lovely Mrs. Sterling... whose classified secret message were you desperately destroying at three in the morning?"