Lucas set down his teacup, the corner of his mouth curling into an amused arc. He rose unhurriedly. "Gentlemen. Breaking into a private residence is against the law."
"Cut the crap! Peter Harding owes us fifty million in gambling debt! If he doesn't pay today, we're tearing this place apart!"
The bald brute jabbed a finger at me.
Madeline shrieked immediately. "Oh my God! I knew it—he's a spendthrift! Sir, kick him out now! Don't let him drag the Gilbert family down!"
Lucas turned to me, gaze ice-cold. "Peter Harding. The trouble you caused, you clean up. Don't dirty my family's floor."
I took a deep breath and tossed aside the cherries.
Time to act.
Back screaming in pain, I still sprang up from the daybed.
Not running backward.
Instead, I grabbed the small bench beside me and charged straight at Lucas like a man possessed.
I planted myself in front of him, using my not-broad shoulders to block all lines of sight.
"Who dares touch my son!"
That shout cracked my voice.
My momentum was off the charts.
The whole room went dead silent.
Even the bald brute froze—this wasn't in the script, was it?
He instinctively glanced at Lucas.
Lucas frowned and signaled him to continue.