Joshua's hand was cool and dry around hers as he led her up the stone steps of the portico. She could feel the faint, damp tremor in his palm, a tell-tale sign of the tension he was trying so hard to hide.
"Nervous?" she murmured, her voice too low for anyone else to hear. "Afraid I'll mess it up?"
"I'm just strategizing the most effective way to introduce you," he said, his eyes fixed on the massive oak doors ahead.
"So, my job is to act out, piss them off, and clear the way for your beloved Gwyneth. Got it."
His jaw tightened. He hated the way her name sounded coming from Avery's lips. "Just do what you're paid for."
Suddenly, a savage roar cut through the serene afternoon quiet. An engine, screaming in protest.
A black Aston Martin DB11 shot into the circular driveway, moving far too fast. It executed a perfect, tire-squealing drift, swinging its tail around to stop precisely in front of them, blocking their path.
The sheer arrogance of the arrival made Avery's brow furrow.
Joshua's face went dark. He muttered a curse under his breath. "What is he doing back?" The disgust in his voice was thick.
"Who?" Avery asked.
The driver's side door swung open and a long leg, encased in a perfectly tailored suit, emerged.
"My brother," Joshua said, his voice turning to ice. "Brodie. The Stanley family's professional disaster."
Avery's gaze traveled up from the expensive shoe to the tall, powerful frame of the man who now leaned against the car. He didn't get out right away. He took his time, pulling a cigarette from his jacket and lighting it with a lazy, dangerous grace.
Joshua instinctively pulled Avery a half-step behind him, a protective gesture that was purely for show. "Stay away from him," he warned in a low voice. "He's... volatile. Don't provoke him."
Avery was only half-listening, her attention fixed on the silhouette of the man by the car.
The word "volatile" barely scratched the surface. Joshua's tone held a deeper warning, a history of chaos he had no intention of sharing with a hired actress. But for Avery, a different set of words was echoing in her mind, a story she knew all too well.
Six months ago. The night before his birthday. Humiliated.
The words hit Avery like individual stones. A cold dread, sharp and sickening, shot up from the soles of her feet.
Her mind went white. The world tilted on its axis. She couldn't hear what Joshua was saying anymore.
The man by the car finally looked up, exhaling a plume of smoke into the twilight air. The fading sun carved his profile into sharp relief, all hard angles and shadows. That face...
Avery's breath caught in her throat. Her heart felt like it had been seized by an icy fist, squeezing until she couldn't breathe.
No. It can't be. It's impossible. The world isn't this small. It can't be this cruel.
Joshua felt her stiffen beside him. He glanced down. "What's wrong? You're white as a sheet."
She couldn't form a word. Her legs felt like they were about to give out from under her.
Brodie finally turned his gaze toward them. His eyes, dark and penetrating, swept over them with a look of bored disdain.
And Avery knew.
He was the man she had spent the last six months running from. The nightmare she thought she had escaped.
He was Brodie.
