Frightened by his sudden lunge, Clara flinched. The silver tray wobbled, and the crystal decanter slipped from her fingers, shattering violently against the hardwood floor.
Before she could step back, Oliver’s hand whipped through the air with terrifying force. The sound of flesh striking flesh cracked through the quiet hallway. The impact threw Clara sideways, sending her crashing hard against the wall before she slid down onto the polished floor.
She pressed a hand to her face, a sharp, burning agony radiating across her cheekbone. When she pulled her fingers away, they throbbed with heat, and she knew the skin was already swelling into a massive, angry purple bruise on her left cheek. Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at him, her chest heaving with terror.