Chapter 3

The old analog clock on the precinct wall ticked loudly. It was 2:00 AM. Adelia's eyelids felt like they were lined with lead.

A drunk man down the hall suddenly bent over and vomited onto the floor. The sharp, acidic smell of stomach bile flooded the room. Adelia quickly pulled a silk handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it hard against her nose, turning her face to the wall.

The desk sergeant slammed his hand down. A thick stack of manila folders hit the wooden desk with a loud crack.

"Keep it quiet in here!" he barked.

Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the precinct were pushed open from the outside. A blast of freezing wind and the smell of autumn rain rushed into the stale room.

Two men in immaculate, custom-tailored suits walked in first. Their expensive leather shoes clicked in perfect unison against the dirty terrazzo floor.

Behind them, a third man stepped through the doors.

He was tall, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. He wore a perfectly cut black wool overcoat. His presence instantly sucked the oxygen out of the room.

The man slowly pulled off his wet leather gloves. The movement was elegant but dripped with absolute arrogance. He handed the gloves to the assistant behind him without looking.

The entire precinct went dead silent. Even the vomiting drunk clamped his mouth shut, intimidated by the crushing weight of the man's authority.

Adelia lifted her head. She squinted through the dim, flickering light.

When she saw his face, her pupils contracted sharply.

It was Axel Arnold. Coleman's uncle. The most ruthless hedge fund billionaire on Wall Street. His cold, grey-blue eyes swept across the dirty room.

Axel's gaze finally stopped on the dark corner where Adelia was shivering. A microscopic frown formed between his brows.

He walked straight toward her. His long legs ate up the distance. The bottom of his coat flared slightly with his fast pace. The heavy thud of his shoes felt like boots stepping directly on Adelia's chest.

The two lawyers rushed to the sergeant's desk. They slapped a stack of bail documents down. The thick papers rustled loudly as the nervous sergeant flipped through them with shaking hands.

Axel stopped right in front of Adelia. His massive frame blocked out the harsh fluorescent light, casting her entirely in his dark shadow.

He looked down at her ruined dress and bare, shivering shoulders.

"Can you stand?" his voice was deep, cold, and completely devoid of emotion.

Adelia bit the inside of her cheek. She placed her hand against the dirty wall and pushed herself up. Her legs had been curled up for hours. The blood rushed back into her calves, causing a painful, tingling numbness.

Her knees buckled. She fell forward.

Axel did not reach out to catch her waist. Instead, he maintained his strict boundaries. He extended his forearm. The hard, solid muscle beneath his suit jacket caught her weight.

Adelia's forehead crashed against his shoulder. Her nose brushed against his lapel. The crisp, clean scent of cedarwood mixed with a faint trace of tobacco filled her lungs. The smell instantly calmed the frantic beating of her heart.

"Here are her things, Mr. Arnold," the sergeant said. His voice was sickeningly sweet now. He handed over Adelia's broken clutch with both hands.

Axel did not say a single word to the police. He turned and walked toward the exit. Adelia forced her aching legs to move, limping slightly to keep up with his massive strides.

They walked out into the freezing rain.

The cold water hit Adelia's bare skin like tiny needles. She gasped, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.

A driver in a black suit immediately popped open a massive black umbrella. The heavy rain pounded against the tight fabric.

Axel stopped walking. He unbuttoned his black cashmere overcoat and pulled it off his shoulders. With one swift motion, he draped the heavy coat over Adelia.

The coat was still radiating his body heat. The massive size of it swallowed her completely, instantly blocking out the freezing wind.

Adelia looked up, opening her mouth to thank him.

Axel wasn't looking at her. His jaw was set in a hard line. He was staring down at the face of his Patek Philippe watch.

The driver pulled open the rear door of a black Maybach. The warm air from the car's heaters rushed out, carrying the rich scent of new leather.

Adelia bent down and slid into the back seat. The soft leather wrapped around her exhausted body. She let out a long, shaky breath.

Axel got in on the other side. The wide leather armrest separated them. The silence inside the car was so heavy it felt suffocating.

The Maybach pulled smoothly into the wet streets. The tires hissed against the puddles. The neon signs of New York smeared into colorful streaks across the tinted windows.

Axel picked up an iPad from the console. He stared at the glowing stock charts.

"Take us to my private residence at The Mark Hotel," he ordered the driver. His tone left zero room for argument.

Adelia swallowed hard, pushing down the words she wanted to say. She didn't ask to go home.