Chapter 4

Kevin didn't care about the mud ruining his Italian leather shoes. He sprinted across the flooded parking lot, the rain plastering his hair to his forehead.

He stopped two feet away from the awning, his chest heaving. He stared at the girl huddled against the brick wall. The resemblance to his mother was undeniable, but she was so thin, so pale.

His lips trembled. He swallowed hard against the massive lump in his throat. "Arielle?" he choked out. "I'm... I'm your brother."

Arielle executed her role perfectly. She flinched violently at his voice, pressing her spine harder against the wall. She pulled her knees together, her eyes wide and darting, filled with absolute distrust.

"Are you..." Her voice shook, perfectly mimicking the rasp of someone who had been screaming. "Did the Tysons send you? I don't have the keys. I dropped them."

The words hit Kevin like a physical blow. A sob tore from his chest. He ripped off his soaked suit jacket and took a step forward, holding it out to wrap around her freezing shoulders.

Arielle shrank away, dodging his touch. She let a single, perfect tear spill over her lower lash line.

"No, no, baby, no," Kevin pleaded, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm a Chandler. We've been looking for you for eighteen years. I'm here to take you home."

Before Arielle could respond, the sound of the rain hitting the pavement suddenly vanished.

A massive, custom black umbrella had been silently positioned over their heads.

Arielle looked up.

Her breath hitched, and this time, it wasn't acting.

A man stood in the shadows just behind Kevin. He held the umbrella with one hand, his other hand tucked casually into the pocket of his trousers. He radiated a suffocating, predatory aura that made the air feel instantly thinner.

Ellis Burnett looked down at her. His eyes were the color of a starless night, and they were currently dissecting her. His gaze swept over her wet hair, the cheap fabric of her jacket, the muddy boots, and finally, settled on her hands gripping the canvas bag.

Arielle felt the hairs on her arms stand up. The way he looked at her wasn't with pity. It was an interrogation.

She immediately dropped her gaze, biting her lower lip to make it tremble. She reached out with a shaking hand and grabbed the wet fabric of Kevin's shirt sleeve, hiding half of her body behind his broad back.

A microscopic smirk touched the corner of Ellis's mouth.

"Get her in the car, Kevin," Ellis ordered. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated in Arielle's chest. "She's freezing, and we are wasting time."

Kevin snapped out of his emotional daze. "Right. Yes. Come on, Arielle. It's warm inside."

He gently guided her toward the idling Maybach. Ellis walked a half-step behind them, keeping the umbrella perfectly angled so not a single drop of rain touched Arielle.

The driver held the door open. Kevin helped Arielle slide into the massive rear cabin, then climbed in after her.

Ellis closed the umbrella and got in through the opposite door. The heavy door clicked shut, sealing them in a soundproof vault.

The temperature inside was perfectly regulated, but the moment Ellis sat down, the atmosphere became unbearably dense. A sharp, aggressive scent of cedar and dark amber filled the space, invading Arielle's lungs with every breath.

She pulled her knees up slightly, hugging her canvas bag tight against her stomach, making herself as small as physically possible on the wide leather seat.

Kevin immediately opened the center console fridge. He pulled out a bottle of room-temperature Fiji water, twisted the cap off, and pressed it into Arielle's hands.

"Drink this," Kevin said softly. "You're safe now. I swear to God, no one will ever hurt you again."

"Thank you," Arielle whispered. She took the bottle. She forced her fingers to tremble just enough that a few drops of water sloshed over the rim, landing on the back of her hand.

Ellis leaned back against the headrest. He reached up to the compartment above him and pulled out a dark grey, silk pocket square.

He didn't hand it to Kevin. He reached straight across the gap and held it out to Arielle.

Arielle stared at the expensive fabric. She looked at Kevin, then slowly shifted her eyes to Ellis, playing the part of the intimidated victim perfectly. She didn't move to take it.

Ellis didn't withdraw his hand. His eyes locked onto hers, dark and unyielding.

"Dry your hands," Ellis commanded softly. "Before you ruin the leather."

Arielle bit the inside of her cheek. She slowly reached out.

As she took the silk square, her fingertips brushed against the back of his hand. His skin was burning hot.

The moment their skin made contact, Ellis's fingers twitched. He didn't pull away. Instead, he pressed back slightly, his thumb grazing the pads of her index and middle fingers.

He felt the rough, hardened calluses there.

Arielle's stomach dropped. She yanked her hand back instantly, clutching the silk to her chest. She ducked her head, letting her wet hair fall forward to hide the flash of pure panic in her eyes.

He knows. A girl who only pulled weeds wouldn't have calluses like these. He'll figure it out.

Kevin noticed nothing. He turned to Ellis, his face twisted in rage. "Did you see her? The Tysons starved her. I want them destroyed, Ellis. I want them ruined."

Ellis slowly pulled his hand back, resting it on his knee. He rubbed his thumb against his index finger, committing the texture of her skin to memory.

"The Burnett legal team has already been dispatched," Ellis said, his voice smooth and detached. "They will pay for every second."

The Maybach pulled onto the highway, accelerating smoothly into the night. Arielle sat in the dark, her fingers tightly crushing the silk handkerchief. The fabric still held the heat of his skin, a burning reminder that the man sitting across from her was the most dangerous threat she had faced yet.