Chapter 1 - The Locked Door“Get out,” Julian repeated, his voice dropping to a lethal, vibrating whisper that left absolutely no room for negotiation or delay.
Arthur Pendelton, a man who had faced down federal prosecutors and rival mob bosses without breaking a sweat, did not hesitate for a single second.
He grabbed the junior associate by the collar of his expensive suit, hauling the terrified younger man out of the boardroom before he could even gather his legal pads.
The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut with a resounding, final thud that echoed like a gunshot in the cavernous, silent space.
Elise flinched, her hands instinctively wrapping tighter around the undeniable swell of her eight-month pregnant belly in a fiercely protective gesture.
Julian did not move toward her immediately.
He simply stood there, an immovable mountain of dark wool and restrained violence, his silver-grey eyes locked onto her abdomen as if he were staring at a ghost.
The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, pulling the oxygen from the room until Elise felt lightheaded and dizzy.
“Eight months,” Julian finally stated, his voice devoid of its usual smooth cadence, sounding raw and fractured instead.
Elise forced herself to look up into his face, meeting the freezing blizzard of his gaze with a defiant fire she did not truly feel.
“This has nothing to do with you, Julian,” she lied, her voice trembling despite her desperate efforts to keep it perfectly steady.
He let out a harsh, humorless laugh that sounded more like a growl of pure, unadulterated pain.
“Nothing to do with me?” he echoed, taking one slow, deliberate step forward, moving with the predatory grace that made him the most feared man in Chicago.
“You vanish from my home, you change your name, you disappear from the face of the earth, and you return carrying a child that is obviously mine.”
“It’s not yours,” she whispered, the lie burning her throat like swallowed glass.
Julian crossed the room in three massive strides, invading her personal space until all she could smell was his expensive cologne and the scent of rain on his coat.
He leaned down, placing both of his large, scarred hands firmly on the armrests of her leather chair, trapping her completely.
“Do not insult my intelligence, Elise,” he commanded softly, his face mere inches from hers.
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“I know every single thing you did before you left, and I know there has never been anyone else.”
She turned her face away, unable to bear the burning intensity in his eyes, feeling the baby kick violently against her ribs in response to his deep voice.
