Chapter 3 No.3

Jakobe Hartman stepped out of the elevator, his bespoke navy suit draping perfectly over his broad shoulders. His leather oxfords made absolutely zero sound against the thick hallway carpet. His executive assistant, A.C. Rowe, walked half a step behind him, speaking in a low, rapid voice.

"The acquisition of this clinic's parent company is in the final stages, sir," A.C. reported.

Jakobe's dark eyes swept over the lighting fixtures and the width of the corridors, his brain processing the physical assets and calculating the profit margins with ruthless efficiency. Then, a faint, erratic swishing sound broke his concentration.

He stopped walking, his jaw tightening slightly. He looked past A.C.'s shoulder, down the long stretch of the corridor. A slender figure in a baggy, shapeless hospital gown was moving toward them, holding a white cane and sweeping it clumsily across the carpet.

From this distance, with half her face covered in thick medical gauze, Jakobe didn't recognize her. He only felt a brief flash of annoyance. A stumbling patient in the VIP wing was a liability.

Audra swept her cane to the right. The plastic tip suddenly wedged itself deep into the metal seam where the carpet met the tile. When she yanked the cane upward, the sudden release of tension threw her completely off balance.

Her body pitched forward, feet tangling in a clumsy stumble as she fell toward the center of the hallway. She threw her hands out blindly, desperate to grab onto a wall, a rail, anything.

A.C. Rowe stepped forward quickly, intending to block the falling patient from crashing into his boss.

But Jakobe moved faster.

Before his logical brain could process the risk, instinct took over, and he stepped directly into her path.

Audra's hands slammed hard into a solid, muscular chest, her fingers gripping the expensive cashmere lapels of a suit jacket. Because of her momentum, her forehead crashed right into his sternum.

Instantly, a sharp, incredibly distinct scent flooded Audra's senses. Vetiver. Cedar. And something cold and metallic.

The exact same cologne from the lawyer's office.

Audra's heart stopped dead in her chest. The blood in her veins turned to ice. Fate couldn't be this cruel.

Jakobe looked down at the woman currently pressed against his chest. His breath hitched. Even with the bandages covering her eyes, he recognized the sharp curve of her jawline, the pale, stubborn press of her lips. His brain's database matched the physical data instantly.

A.C. Rowe sucked in a sharp breath, the tablet in his hands nearly slipping from his grip.

"Mrs. Hartman?" A.C. choked out, his voice a harsh whisper.

The title hit Audra like a physical blow to the stomach. Panic exploded inside her. She let go of his suit jacket as if it were on fire and scrambled backward, but her left foot caught behind her right ankle.

She started to fall backward.

Jakobe's arm shot out like a steel band. He wrapped his large hand firmly around her narrow waist and yanked her hard against his body. The physical distance between them vanished completely.

He could feel the violent, terrified trembling of her ribcage against his chest. He stared down at her, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register. "Why are you here?"

Audra bit her lower lip hard. Her mind raced, desperately trying to construct a lie that would hide how pathetic she was right now. She didn't answer him. Instead, she placed both of her hands flat against his chest and pushed with all her strength, trying to shove the human brick wall away.

Jakobe felt the frantic pressure of her small palms against his heart. For the first time in his life, his flawless, risk-averse internal algorithm glitched, returning nothing but errors.