Landon's black Bentley pulled in low and quiet along the villa's private driveway, stopping in the shadows some distance from the main house.
He didn't get out immediately. He sat in the car, his gaze sweeping over the brightly lit villa, cataloging every lit window.
His eyes landed on the garage. Julian's flashy red Ferrari was parked there, the door left carelessly ajar, a testament to its owner's impatience.
The corner of Landon's mouth twitched. He took out his signature metal lighter, flicking it open and closed, the sharp click-clack sound echoing in the quiet car.
A suppressed, struggling whimper drifted on the night breeze. It was faint, but it pierced Landon's ears with precision.
The clicking stopped. Landon went still, listening. He pushed the car door open, his tall figure slipping into the darkness.
He didn't use the front door. He circled around to the side of the villa, toward the garage. The side door was ajar, a sliver of light escaping through the crack.
Landon approached silently, peering inside.
The scene made him stop cold. Julian was roughly pressing Annabel against the hood of his Ferrari, trying to rip the gaudy dress from her body.
Her face was streaked with tears and terror. Her hands pushed uselessly against his assault, desperate pleas escaping her lips.
"Let me go... Julian, please... The contract didn't say this..." Her voice was broken and weak.
"The contract?" Julian sneered. "I am the contract. Here, I make the rules!" He increased the force of his grip.
Landon's jaw tightened as he took in the scene. He recognized the girl. She was the Beaumont's daughter, the one he'd seen at a charity gala three months ago, surrounded by admirers.
He had no interest in saving damsels in distress. But he would not tolerate Julian committing such a filthy, disgusting act on his property. This was about the Carlisle family's decency.
He didn't rush in. A direct confrontation would only make things worse and reveal his presence.
He silently retreated to his car, his expression giving nothing away.
He sat back in the driver's seat. His hand moved to the center of the steering wheel. Then, he pressed down. Hard.
"BEEEEEP—!"
A sharp, piercing, continuous car horn blast shattered the dead silence of the estate like a thunderclap.
Inside the garage, Julian's movements froze. Startled by the sudden noise, his face twisted with annoyance and suspicion.
Annabel seized the opportunity. With all her strength, she shoved him away and scrambled to the other side of the garage, panting like a frightened deer.
Julian cursed, straightening his disheveled clothes. He peered out of the garage, but the darkness was absolute. He saw nothing.
The horn stopped as suddenly as it had begun, almost like a hallucination.
Landon watched as Julian stomped out of the garage, looked around, and finally returned to the villa, having found nothing.
Only then did Landon slowly start the engine, driving smoothly up the main driveway to the front entrance.
A few minutes later, as Julian was still fuming in the living room, the front door opened. The butler, Mr. Watkins, respectfully led a man inside.
"Good evening, Julian." Landon Carlisle's voice was quiet, but it held an undeniable authority.
Julian saw Landon, and the anger on his face froze, replaced by surprise and a flicker of fear. "Landon? What are you doing here?"
Landon's gaze passed over him, landing on the trembling, huddled figure in the corner.
He saw her terrified blue eyes, like cornflowers battered by rain. The sight of them sent an inexplicable wave of irritation through him.
