Chapter 2 - The Name
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He stepped forward slowly, telegraphing his movements so as not to startle her. He knelt on the cold concrete floor, his expensive trousers brushing against a knocked-over bottle of glass cleaner.
"Look at me," he commanded softly.
Lily opened her eyes. Up close, his face was striking. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw coated in dark stubble, and eyes as black as a starless night. There was a faint, jagged scar cutting through his left eyebrow, hinting at a life that involved far more violence than corporate boardrooms.
He held out his suit jacket.
"Put this on," he said. "It will cover the blood. You shouldn't have to walk out of here feeling exposed."
Lily hesitated, her hands shaking as she reached out. The jacket was heavy, lined with silk, and smelled of cedar and something dark and spicy. She slipped her arms into the sleeves, pulling the massive garment tightly around her shivering frame. It swallowed her completely, hiding the torn uniform and the bruised skin.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Don't thank me yet," he said. He didn't stand up. He remained kneeling, putting himself below her eye level, stripping away his own imposing height. "Give me his name."
Lily swallowed hard. The terror of Ryan Caldwell was deeply ingrained in anyone who worked in Chicago's service industry. He was untouchable.
"It was Ryan Caldwell," she said, her voice cracking. "The heir to the Caldwell Group."
The man's expression didn't change, but a dangerous, lethal light sparked in his dark eyes.
"Ryan Caldwell," he repeated, the name sounding like a death sentence on his tongue. "Did he do this to your shoulder?"
"Yes," she whispered, looking down at the concrete. "I poured the wine. He locked the door. I fought him off, I grabbed a heavy glass ashtray and hit him... I ran before he could recover."
"You did perfectly," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You fought back. You survived."
"He's going to ruin me," Lily cried, the reality finally setting in. "My supervisor, Marcus... he set me up. They're going to say I attacked him. They'll call the police. I'll go to prison."
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The man slowly stood up. He reached down, offering her his large, calloused hand.
"Nobody is calling the police," he said. "And Marcus is going to have a very different problem by morning. My name is Gabriel Thorne. Take my hand, Lily. We're leaving."
