Chapter 4 4

The heavy driver's side door of the Rolls-Royce swung open.

Carmel stepped out into the rain. He wore a black leather jacket and a heavy silver Chrome Hearts necklace that rested against his chest.

He popped open a massive black umbrella and walked straight to Ainsley.

Carmel tilted the umbrella entirely over her head, letting the freezing rain instantly soak his own left shoulder.

He pulled off his sunglasses, revealing a face with aggressively sharp, handsome features.

His dark eyebrows slammed together as he looked Ainsley up and down, taking in her soaked, shivering frame.

Carmel muttered a harsh curse about the Thomas family under his breath.

He immediately stripped off his leather jacket. The inside of the jacket was still radiating his body heat.

He threw it over Ainsley's thin, freezing shoulders.

Ainsley flinched slightly at the sudden, unfamiliar warmth of family care. Her rigid muscles involuntarily relaxed just a fraction of an inch.

Carmel reached out and pulled open the massive, rear suicide door of the Rolls-Royce.

He stepped back and gave a slight, respectful nod toward the interior, making it very clear that someone far more important was sitting inside.

Ainsley ducked her head and climbed into the cavernous, luxurious back seat.

The second she sat down, she was swallowed by the heated air and that aggressive, suffocating scent of cedar wood.

The heavy car door slammed shut behind her with a solid thud.

The thick glass instantly severed the sound of the rain and completely blocked Kade's horrified staring from the balcony.

Ainsley turned her head.

Her eyes crashed straight into a pair of bottomless, pitch-black pupils.

The man was leaning back against the plush leather seat. His presence sucked all the oxygen out of the cabin.

Hill Frazier wore a flawless, dark bespoke suit. His long legs were crossed at the knee, and a classified corporate dossier rested on his lap.

He didn't say a word.

He just stared at her. His eyes moved with the slow, calculating precision of a predator, dragging from the wet tips of her hair down to her pale, trembling lips.

The sheer weight of his gaze made Ainsley's chest tighten with a severe sense of danger.

She instinctively shifted her hips, pressing her back closer to the car door.

Hill reached out and handed her a folded, top-tier cashmere towel.

His knuckles were sharp and pronounced. A ten-million-dollar Patek Philippe watch rested heavily on his wrist.

"Dry your hair," Hill commanded. His voice was a low, magnetic rumble that left absolutely no room for argument.

Ainsley reached out and took the towel.

The tips of her fingers accidentally brushed against the freezing skin of his thumb.

Ainsley yanked her hand back instantly, as if she had just touched a live wire.

Carmel climbed back into the driver's seat and shifted the car into gear.

He looked at Ainsley through the rearview mirror. "This is my friend, Hill."

Ainsley pressed the cashmere towel to her wet hair.

Her brain rapidly scanned every piece of data she had on the Washington D.C. power players, trying to match the name 'Hill' to a face. She came up completely empty.

Hill watched her eyes dart back and forth.

A microscopic smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. He didn't offer a single word to expose his identity as the heir to the Frazier political dynasty.

Carmel steered the heavy car onto the main road.

"If I hadn't come to get you, were you really going to walk all the way back to D.C. on foot?" Carmel complained.

Ainsley kept her voice flat and indifferent. "I was just going to crash at the underground clinic for the night."

The exact second the words "underground clinic" left her mouth, Hill's fingers stopped tapping against his dossier.

A razor-sharp gleam flashed in his dark eyes.

He slowly turned his head to look at Ainsley.

"What exactly were you planning to do at an underground clinic?" Hill asked. His tone was casual, but the underlying interrogation was heavy.

Ainsley's heart slammed against her ribs.

She forced her breathing to remain perfectly steady. "I used to do some cleaning chores there."

She had to protect her identity. No one in this car could ever know that she was 'The Scalpel'-the legendary underground surgeon with a ten-million-dollar bounty on the dark web who had secretly cured Katharina's blood disease.

Hill stared at her face for three agonizing seconds.

He slowly looked away, seemingly accepting the lie, but the darkness in his eyes grew thicker.

The orange glow of the streetlights flashed rapidly across the interior of the car.

Hill suddenly spoke again, his voice cutting through the silence.

"You look a lot thinner than you did in your photos."

Ainsley's head snapped up. Her muscles locked tight. "What photos?"

Carmel let out two loud, awkward coughs from the front seat, trying to break the tension.

Hill shot a single, freezing glare at the rearview mirror. Carmel instantly shut his mouth.

Hill leaned his upper body forward.

He invaded Ainsley's physical space, stopping only inches from her face. She could feel the heat of his breath mixing with hers.

He lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper meant only for her ears.

"As your fiancé, whom you've never met, I should naturally be kept up to date on everything about you."