Chapter 2 - The Man She Feared More Than Her Kidnappers
Amelia Hastings’s knees gave out before she could take a second step.
For one terrible instant, she expected to hit the floor.
Instead, Adrian Rossi caught her.
His hand closed around her forearm while his other arm steadied her waist, stopping her inches above the carpet. Amelia reacted as though he had struck her. Her entire body jerked. She twisted away so violently that one of the pearl buttons at the back of the wedding gown snapped free.
“Don’t touch me.”
The words barely made it past her lips.
Adrian froze.
He had heard people beg him before. He had watched businessmen tremble across negotiation tables and rivals lose their nerve when they realized whose territory they had entered.
But this was different.
Amelia was not looking at him like a hostage afraid of a criminal.
She was looking at him like someone who had learned that every raised hand could become a weapon.
“Fine,” Adrian said.
He released her immediately.
Amelia staggered backward.
The torn wedding gown slipped slightly from one shoulder.
And that was when Adrian saw the first scar.
A pale line crossed the back of her shoulder.
Then another.
A wider mark disappeared beneath the lace of the gown near her ribs.
Adrian’s expression changed.
Amelia noticed where he was looking and yanked the fabric upward.
“Turn around.”
Her voice cracked.
Adrian did not move.
“Who did that?”
“That isn’t your concern.”
“You are inside my house after my men kidnapped you. At the moment, almost everything about you is my concern.”
Amelia laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Then you’re not very different from him.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“From who?”
She said nothing.
The library doors opened.
The man who had led the kidnapping entered. He was broad-shouldered, gray at the temples and expressionless.
“Adrian.”
“What?”
“We confirmed it.”
Adrian looked at him.
The man continued.
“The woman at the hotel was Penelope Harrington. Dark hair. Twenty-six. Security evacuated her after our team left.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“And this woman?”
“We’re checking.”
Amelia wrapped her arms around herself.
Adrian turned toward the man.
“Marco, everyone who entered that bridal suite was supposed to identify the target before extraction.”
“The timing changed.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Marco’s face became rigid.
“No.”
“Then explain why I have the wrong woman in my library.”
“We saw the dress.”
Adrian stared at him.
“You kidnapped a dress?”
Marco remained silent.
“You had photographs.”
“Yes.”
“You had floor plans.”
“Yes.”
“You had a physical description.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow four trained men entered one room and abducted a blond woman when the target has dark hair.”
Marco inhaled slowly.
“That was our failure.”
“It was.”
Adrian glanced at Amelia.
She was trembling now.
Not theatrically.
Not for sympathy.
Her face had gone almost colorless.
“Get a doctor.”
Amelia immediately backed toward the fireplace.
“No.”
Adrian looked at her.
“No doctor.”
“You nearly collapsed.”
“I’m tired.”
“Then a doctor will tell me you’re tired.”
“No.”
This time she shouted it.
Everyone in the room stopped.
Amelia pressed one hand over her mouth, horrified by her own outburst.
Marco’s gaze moved to Adrian.
Adrian studied her carefully.
“Why don’t you want a doctor?”
“I just don’t.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“You don’t need an answer.”
Adrian took one step toward her.
She retreated.
He stopped again.
There it was.
That instinctive fear.
He changed his tone.
“Amelia.”
Her eyes widened.
“You know my name?”
“Not yet. But I assume Amelia is correct.”
She realized she had given it to him earlier.
Exhaustion was clouding her thoughts.
Adrian gestured toward a leather chair.
“Sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re swaying.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“And I’m saying you’re going to fall.”
She looked toward the two armed men by the door.
Adrian understood.
“Leave.”
Marco hesitated.
“Adrian—”
“Now.”
The guards disappeared.
Marco followed after one final look.
Adrian remained near the desk, deliberately putting distance between them.
“Sit wherever you want.”
Amelia eventually lowered herself onto the edge of a chair.
The fire crackled behind her.
“Who is Sebastian?”
Her head snapped upward.
Adrian had noticed the fear when she mentioned escaping.
“I never said his name.”
“You didn’t have to. You smelled his cologne on your sleeve when you thought someone in the SUV might have been sent by him.”
Amelia stared at him.
Adrian pointed toward a small black object protruding from the torn lining of her gown.
“Also, your burner phone is falling out.”
Amelia looked down.
Her stomach dropped.
She pulled the phone free.
The screen had cracked.
Adrian held out his hand.
She clutched it.
“No.”
“I’m not taking it.”
“Then why are you holding out your hand?”
“To see whether it works.”
Amelia hesitated.
She pressed the power button.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Her face collapsed for half a second.
Adrian saw it.
“You were expecting a call?”
“No.”
“You were running.”
Silence.
He looked at the dirty hem of the wedding gown, her bare feet, the damaged phone and the fear she was desperately trying to conceal.
“You weren’t supposed to attend the ceremony, were you?”
“I was supposed to leave before it.”
“Why?”
Amelia stared at the fire.
“Because I had nowhere else to go afterward.”
Adrian’s voice became quieter.
“Who is Sebastian?”
“My boyfriend.”
Something in the way she said the word made it sound like a prison sentence.
“What does he do?”
“Investment banking.”
“And the scars?”
She looked at him sharply.
Adrian did not soften the question.
“Did he give them to you?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Adrian recognized a practiced lie.
“Did Arthur Harrington?”
“No.”
“Penelope?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Stop.”
Her breathing became shallow.
Adrian watched the hand covering her stomach.
Noticed how often it returned there.
And understood.
His gaze dropped.
Amelia followed it.
For the first time, genuine panic entered her eyes.
“Don’t.”
Adrian’s face hardened.
“You’re pregnant.”
She said nothing.
“How far?”
Silence.
“Amelia.”
“Ten weeks.”
The room seemed to become colder.
Adrian moved toward the desk and pressed an intercom.
“Send Dr. Bell upstairs.”
Amelia stood so fast the chair shifted behind her.
“No!”
Adrian turned.
“You were thrown into a vehicle.”
“I know.”
“You fell twice.”
“I know.”
“You nearly collapsed.”
“I know what happened to me!”
Her voice shattered.
Adrian stared at her.
Tears filled Amelia’s eyes.
“If anyone examines me, Sebastian can find out.”
“How?”
“He has people everywhere.”
“Not here.”
“You don’t understand him.”
“And you don’t understand me.”
That silenced her.
Adrian walked closer but stopped several feet away.
“No one enters this property without my authorization. No one leaves with information unless I permit it. If Sebastian Croft has people inside my organization, I want their names.”
Amelia stared.
“You know him?”
“I know of him.”
Adrian had met Sebastian twice at charity events where men like them pretended their worlds had nothing in common.
Sebastian was polished.
Educated.
Charming.
Adrian had disliked him immediately.
“What happens when you find out I’m useless to you?” Amelia asked.
The question was so calm that it disturbed him more than panic would have.
“Useless?”
“Arthur won’t negotiate for me.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he barely admits I exist.”
Adrian’s brow tightened.
Amelia swallowed.
“My mother had an affair with him years before he married Penelope’s mother. I was the embarrassment he couldn’t erase. When my mother died, he paid for school and gave me a room in one of his houses because it looked better than abandoning me completely.”
“And Penelope?”
“She tolerates me when she needs something.”
“Like modeling a wedding dress.”
Amelia gave a tiny nod.
Adrian stared at her.
The entire operation had been constructed around the assumption that Penelope was Arthur Harrington’s greatest weakness.
Instead, they had taken the daughter he did not care enough to publicly acknowledge.
Marco returned carrying a tablet.
He stopped when he saw Amelia standing.
“We found her.”
Adrian held out his hand.
Marco gave him the tablet.
A photograph appeared.
Amelia Hastings, thirty years old.
Private school.
Columbia University.
Former assistant curator at an art foundation.
Very little social-media presence.
Almost no recent public appearances.
Next came a photograph of Amelia and Sebastian at a charity gala eighteen months earlier.
Sebastian’s hand rested possessively around her waist.
Amelia was smiling.
But now Adrian could see it.
The smile never reached her eyes.
Marco continued.
“There’s more.”
Adrian scrolled.
Hospital visits.
Three within the last year.
One reported as a fall down stairs.
Another as a kitchen accident.
A third had been classified as an allergic reaction, although the file showed bruising noted by a nurse.
Adrian looked at Amelia.
She closed her eyes.
“You investigated me.”
“I investigate everyone who enters my house.”
“I didn’t choose to enter your house.”
“No,” Adrian said quietly. “You didn’t.”
Marco pointed at the screen.
“We also found a bus reservation purchased in cash through a terminal kiosk.”
Adrian looked up.
“Destination?”
“Philadelphia.”
Amelia’s shoulders sank.
Marco continued.
“Departure was scheduled forty minutes after the wedding ceremony began.”
Adrian understood completely.
She had planned to use the chaos of the wedding to disappear.
The kidnapping had destroyed her escape.
Amelia’s cracked burner phone suddenly vibrated.
Everyone looked at it.
The screen flickered back to life.
One message appeared.
Amelia read it.
Her face went white.
Adrian noticed the sender.
SEBASTIAN.
The message contained only nine words.
I KNOW YOU PLANNED TO LEAVE. I’M COMING FOR YOU.
Amelia’s fingers went numb.
The phone dropped onto the carpet.
Adrian picked it up.
He read the message again.
Then he looked at her scars.
At the terrified woman wearing another bride’s ruined wedding dress.
At the hand covering a child Sebastian apparently did not yet know existed.
Adrian had spent his life believing every hostage had a price.
But Amelia Hastings was not a hostage.
She was a fugitive who had accidentally landed inside the only fortress in New York that Sebastian Croft might actually fear entering.
Adrian handed the phone to Marco.
“Find out how he knows.”
Marco nodded.
“And Amelia?”
Adrian looked directly at her.
“She doesn’t leave this house.”
Amelia’s face filled with horror.
Adrian saw it and added three words she had not expected.
“Unless she chooses.”
Then he turned toward Marco.
“And if Sebastian Croft comes looking for her…”
His expression became ice.
May you like
“Let him.”
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