Kaylee dragged her injured ankle across the wet asphalt until her bare feet hit the cold sand. The sharp grains dug into the open cuts on her soles. She gasped, the pain shooting straight up her leg.
She stumbled toward the line of black Maybachs parked near the shoreline.
Two men in dark suits stepped out from the shadows instantly. They pulled tactical flashlights from their belts and aimed the blinding beams directly at her face.
Kaylee threw her hands up to shield her eyes. She was forced to stop.
"Step back," one of the bodyguards ordered. His voice was devoid of any human emotion. His right hand dropped to the holster at his waist.
The killing intent in the air made Kaylee's muscles lock up. She froze.
Through the gap between the two massive men, she saw a tall figure standing near the crashing waves. His broad back was turned to her. He held a cigar between his fingers. The tip glowed orange in the dark. The sheer dominance radiating from his posture felt terrifyingly familiar.
Hearing the commotion, the man slowly turned around. The headlights illuminated his face.
Kaylee's pupils contracted. Her breath hitched in her throat.
The sharp, sculpted jawline. The cold, predatory eyes. It was Ernest Blackwell. The Wall Street tyrant she had seen from afar while working as a catering waitress at a charity gala three months ago.
Ernest glanced at her. His expression did not change. He looked at her the way one might look at a pile of washed-up seaweed. He turned his head away and took a slow drag of his cigar.
The faint sound of dogs barking drifted from the direction of the Fletcher estate.
The sound triggered a violent spike of panic in Kaylee's chest. She pushed past the blinding lights and lunged forward.
The bodyguard grabbed her arm roughly and twisted it behind her back. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through her shoulder joint. Hot tears immediately spilled over her eyelashes.
She ignored the pain. She screamed at the tall silhouette. "Mr. Blackwell! Please help me!" Her voice was ripped away by the howling wind.
Ernest's brow furrowed. The noise clearly irritated him. He raised his hand and made a tiny, dismissive flick with his fingers.
The bodyguard immediately applied more pressure to her arm, dragging her backward.
Kaylee dropped her knees into the wet sand. She dug her fingers deep into the ground, refusing to be moved. Her brain worked frantically. Begging would not work on a man like him. She needed to offer a transaction.
She sucked in a ragged breath. Her chest he heave.
"Marry me!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "You need a wife, and I need a husband right now!"
The beach went dead silent. The only sound was the crashing waves.
The bodyguards stared at her as if she had lost her mind. The grip on her arm loosened just a fraction.
Ernest stopped moving. The hand holding the cigar hovered in the air. He turned his head and finally looked directly at the girl kneeling in the mud.
He took a step forward. His long legs closed the distance between them in seconds. A massive, intimidating shadow fell over her, blocking out the headlights.
Kaylee swallowed hard. Her throat was bone dry.
Ernest looked down at her. His voice was a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in her chest. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't have them throw you into the ocean." The words were ice cold.
Kaylee tilted her pale face up. She forced herself to meet his piercing gaze. Her body was trembling violently from the cold, but her eyes held a desperate stubbornness.
"I have a clean background," she rushed the words out, her teeth chattering. "I have no complicated social circles. I will obey your orders. And most importantly..." She bit her lip hard.
"Most importantly, I can disappear whenever you want! I will never cling to you!" she shouted over the wind.
Ernest stared into her eyes. They were washed clean by the rain, unnervingly bright in the darkness. Something deep inside his chest-a place he kept heavily guarded-experienced a strange, microscopic jolt.
Before he could speak, a phone vibrated in the pocket of his tailored trousers.
He pulled out the device. The screen lit up with the caller ID: Grandpa.
A heavy, dark wave of disgust flashed through Ernest's eyes. He hit the reject button without a second thought.
His executive assistant, Edson, stepped out of the lead Maybach. He walked over quickly and lowered his head. "Boss, the family elders just sent the schedule. Three more blind dates arranged for tomorrow."
Ernest pinched the bridge of his nose. The muscles in his jaw ticked. The relentless pressure to marry and Genevieve's constant hovering were pushing him to the edge of violence. His face darkened.
His gaze dropped back down to Kaylee. He looked at her the way a predator evaluates a piece of meat. His eyes were dark and unreadable.
The intensity of his stare made Kaylee's scalp prickle. But she kept her chin raised. She looked like a cornered animal baring its teeth.
A low, dark chuckle suddenly escaped Ernest's lips. He tossed the half-smoked cigar into the incoming tide. It hit the water with a sharp hiss.
He reached up and shrugged off his suit jacket.
He bent down and threw the heavy fabric over Kaylee's head. The jacket smelled of expensive cologne and was radiating his body heat. It completely enveloped her shivering frame.
