Chapter 7

Aubree ran.

She didn't stop until her lungs burned and her side ached, putting several blocks between herself and the black Maybach. Leaning against the brick wall of a bookstore, she gasped for air, her body trembling.

A fresh wave of nausea rolled through her, a product of pregnancy, panic, and adrenaline.

She was finally alone. Finally safe. All she wanted was the sanctuary of her small apartment.

Her building was a few blocks away, a pre-war brownstone that was old but well-kept. She walked the rest of the way, her legs feeling like lead. As she reached the front steps, a shadow detached itself from the darkness of the entryway.

It was Jordyn.

He had been waiting for her. Stalking her.

His eyes were bloodshot, his expression a terrifying mix of obsession and fury. "You think you can just run away?" he snarled, blocking her path. "Who was that guy? The one in the Maybach!"

He must have seen Alex, seen the car.

"Jordyn, calm down," she said, her voice shaking as she backed away. "He's just my boss."

"Boss?" He let out a crazed, bitter laugh. "A boss sends his goon to beat me up for you? You're a liar!"

He lunged, grabbing her and slamming her back against the rough brick wall of the building. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and black spots danced in her vision.

"You're going to tell me everything," he hissed, one hand closing around her throat. The pressure wasn't enough to choke her, but it was a clear, brutal threat. "Or else-"

A sudden, blinding glare of headlights washed over them, freezing the scene like a photograph.

The black Maybach had appeared at the curb, as silent and menacing as a shark.

The passenger door opened, and Beck Franco emerged. He had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, revealing strong, corded forearms. He didn't look like a CEO. He looked like something far more dangerous.

Jordyn froze for a second, then his bravado returned. "So, you're the one," he sneered.

Beck ignored him. His entire focus was on Jordyn's hand on Aubree's throat. He closed the distance in three long, purposeful strides.

He seized Jordyn's wrist and twisted.

The crack of bone was sickeningly loud, followed by Jordyn's high-pitched scream of agony. His hand flew open, releasing Aubree.

Beck pulled her behind him, shielding her with his body. Then, with a cold, efficient fury, he drove his fist into Jordyn's face.

Jordyn crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from his nose.

Beck stood over him, his chest heaving slightly. "I will say this one last time," he said, his voice a low, chilling whisper. "Stay away from her."

He crouched down, grabbing a fistful of Jordyn's shirt and hauling him close. His next words were for Jordyn's ears alone, a venomous, possessive promise.

"She works for me. You touch one of my employees again, you are making an enemy of me. And I will make you disappear from this city."

The raw menace in his voice, the murderous look in his eyes, did what the punch couldn't. It broke Jordyn completely. He scrambled backward, crab-walking away before getting to his feet and running off into the night like a terrified animal.

The immediate danger was gone. Beck stood, turning to face Aubree. She was still pressed against the wall, her eyes wide with shock.

He looked down at his own hand. The knuckles on his right hand were split and bleeding.

He met her stunned gaze, his expression unreadable. "I need ice," he stated, his voice back to its usual, commanding tone. "And a bandage. We're going upstairs."

It wasn't a request. It was an order, wrapped in an undeniable reason. He had gotten hurt defending her. And with that perfect, unimpeachable excuse, he followed her into the building, into her home, into her life.