The cold air of the penthouse hallway hit Hayley's wet legs. She shivered violently. Instinctively, she curled inward, her damp body brushing against the solid heat of Edward's chest.
The slight friction made Edward's jaw lock. He snapped his head down, glaring at her with eyes that promised violence.
Hayley froze. She widened her eyes, forcing the tears to pool but not fall, playing the part of a terrified, innocent infant.
Edward didn't slow down. He marched past the master suite and kicked open the door to the adjacent sitting room.
The motion-sensor lights flickered on, illuminating the massive space. Edward held her out at arm's length, his eyes scanning the room like a predator looking for a dumping ground.
His gaze locked onto the wide leather sofa. Draped over the back was a beige Loro Piana cashmere blanket, worth several thousand dollars.
He walked over, grabbed the blanket with his free hand, and yanked it down. He tossed it roughly onto the center of the glass coffee table.
Without a shred of gentleness, he opened his hand.
Hayley dropped onto the soft cashmere with a heavy thud.
She immediately tried to roll away from the wet spot she was creating, but Edward's large hand clamped down hard on her stomach, pinning her in place.
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a silk square. His face twisted in disgust as he aggressively wiped the moisture from his fingers.
When he was done, he threw the ruined silk into a nearby wastebasket like it was infected.
Then, he grabbed the top left corner of the cashmere blanket.
With jerky, unpracticed movements, he pulled the heavy fabric tightly across Hayley's body, pinning her left arm to her side. Before she could process what was happening, he grabbed the right corner and yanked it over her other arm.
Hayley let out a muffled grunt of protest. She tried to kick, but he folded the bottom of the blanket up, trapping her legs.
He rolled her over once, pulling the fabric taut.
She was completely immobilized. A tightly packed baby burrito.
Hayley stared up at the ceiling, realizing she was now not only sitting in her own urine, but she was also completely paralyzed.
With the threat contained, Edward finally addressed his own disaster. He ripped the ruined silk tie from his neck and threw it on the floor.
He unbuttoned his suit jacket, shrugging it off in one violent motion. The custom dress shirt followed, peeled off and discarded on the expensive rug.
Hayley's eyes widened. She was forced to stare at the man's bare torso. His chest and abdomen were corded with lean, hard muscle, scarred slightly on the left ribcage. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut, her adult mind screaming at the inappropriate exposure.
Edward stalked into the attached walk-in closet. He emerged seconds later, pulling a black silk robe over his shoulders. He tied the belt loosely around his waist, the fabric hanging off him with a dangerous, predatory grace.
He stepped back to the coffee table and stared down at the tightly wrapped bundle. Only Hayley's large eyes and nose were visible.
The physical separation calmed his immediate panic, but the cold, calculating rage remained. Someone was going to pay for this. The staff had failed him.
He leaned down and slid his hands under the thick cashmere. He lifted the twenty-pound bundle effortlessly.
The blanket was so thick Hayley couldn't feel the heat of his body anymore. All she could smell was the sharp, clean scent of his body wash clinging to the silk robe.
Edward carried her out of the sitting room and toward the spiral staircase that led to the main living area. His face was a mask of cold fury.
Faint sounds drifted up from the lower level. The obnoxious laugh track of a reality TV show and the sound of someone chewing loudly.
Edward's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. He adjusted his grip on Hayley and began to descend the stairs. His bare feet made absolutely no sound on the steps. He moved like a panther stalking its prey.
Hayley lay stiff in his arms. The system pinged a low warning in her head. Someone was about to die.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, the living room came into full view.
Brenda, the night nanny, was sprawled across the white sofa. Her feet were propped up on the table, and she was digging her hand into a large bag of potato chips, laughing at the television.
Edward stopped on the final step.
"Enjoying the show?"
His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the noise of the TV like a razor blade.
Brenda whipped her head around. The bag of chips slipped from her hands, spilling across the floor. All the blood drained from her face, leaving her pale and trembling.
