Gabriella sat on a hard plastic chair in the NYPD precinct lobby. A scratchy gray police blanket was wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She held a paper cup of hot tea in both hands, but her fingers were still trembling uncontrollably.

The heavy glass doors of the precinct pushed open. Eloise ran into the lobby, her high heels clicking frantically against the linoleum floor. She spotted Gabriella and rushed over, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Are you hurt? Did he touch you?" Eloise asked, her voice cracking with panic.

Gabriella's eyes were red and burning. She pointed her shaking finger toward the long hallway leading to the interrogation rooms.

"I am fine," Gabriella choked out. "But that psycho driver is in there. He locked me in his car."

Eloise followed Gabriella's finger. She stared down the hallway. The color completely drained from Eloise's face. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She looked sick to her stomach.

Heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor. The thick metal door of the interrogation room swung open.

Rick Jennings, a senior detective at the precinct, walked out first. His face was stretched into a massive, nervous smile. His shoulders were hunched forward, his posture incredibly submissive.

Rick was holding a freshly brewed cup of premium Blue Mountain coffee in both hands. He offered it backward with extreme respect to the tall man walking behind him.

Emmett stepped out of the shadows. He had one hand shoved casually into the pocket of his tailored suit pants. His long legs ate up the distance of the hallway. He did not even glance at the coffee Rick was holding.

Rick pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Kane," Rick said quickly. "We had no idea it was you. This is a complete misunderstanding."

Gabriella stood up so fast the police blanket fell to the dirty floor. Her brain could not process the absurd scene playing out in front of her.

She marched right up to Rick.

"Why isn't he in handcuffs?" Gabriella demanded, her voice echoing in the lobby. "Why are you serving him coffee? He kidnapped me!"

Rick coughed awkwardly. He looked around the lobby, trying to keep his voice down.

"Miss Henson, please lower your voice," Rick whispered. "Let's not make this a bigger issue than it is."

Emmett stopped walking. He turned around slowly. He looked down at Gabriella, his massive frame towering over her.

He let out a short, cold laugh.

"Is the NYPD taking orders from paranoid, hysterical women now?" Emmett asked. His voice dripped with pure arrogance.

Gabriella's blood boiled. Her chest heaved with anger.

"You drove a car with no plates! You locked the doors! You drove me to an abandoned alley!" she yelled, counting the offenses on her fingers.

Emmett lazily adjusted the expensive cufflink on his left wrist.

"Are you a cop? Or just nosy?" he asked smoothly, his tone dripping with condescension. "As for the doors, maybe I don't like my passengers trying to jump out. It's messy."

He suddenly took a step forward, closing the distance between them. He leaned down, his face inches from hers.

"And I changed the route," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave, "because your cheap perfume was giving me a headache. I needed to open the window."

The insult hit Gabriella like a physical slap. Her face burned hot with humiliation. Her right hand flew up, aiming straight for his arrogant cheek.

Eloise lunged forward and grabbed Gabriella from behind. She pinned Gabriella's arm down with all her strength.

"Gabby, stop!" Eloise begged, pressing her face against Gabriella's ear. "Please. That is my older brother. That is Emmett Kane."

Gabriella's brain short-circuited. Her body went completely rigid. Her pupils dilated in pure shock.

She stared at the dangerous, cruel man standing in front of her. She could not connect this monster to the man Eloise always talked about. This was the head of the Kane family.

Rick quickly stepped between them. He shoved a clipboard with a waiver of liability toward Gabriella.

"Sign this, please," Rick urged. "Let's just close the case."

Gabriella looked at Eloise. Eloise's eyes were pleading. Gabriella clenched her jaw so hard her teeth ached. The taste of defeat was bitter in her mouth. She grabbed the pen and aggressively signed her name on the paper.

She took a deep breath, forcing the air into her tight lungs.

"I'm sorry," she forced the words out. They tasted like ash.

Emmett raised an eyebrow. His dark eyes slowly dragged down Gabriella's body, taking in her wet clothes and shivering frame.

He let out a harsh grunt.

"Don't flatter yourself," Emmett said loudly, making sure everyone in the lobby heard him. "I only like women with actual curves. I have zero appetite for flat little girls."

A few young officers standing near the front desk snickered. Gabriella's face flushed a deep, angry red. Her stomach churned with embarrassment.

Emmett did not look at her again. A group of men in black suits surrounded him. He pushed open the glass doors and walked out into the night, leaving a trail of cold air behind him.

Gabriella stared at the empty doorway. She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. She swore to herself she would never, ever cross paths with that bastard again.

The next morning, Gabriella stood in front of the massive double doors of the penthouse in Tribeca. She held a green box from Lady M containing a matcha crepe cake. She took a deep breath, pressing her thumb against the biometric scanner on the private elevator.

The metal doors slid open silently. The living room was enormous, featuring floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Hudson River. The furniture was minimalist, cold, and incredibly expensive.

She stepped out of the elevator. Suddenly, the door to the master bedroom swung open. A thick cloud of steam carrying the sharp scent of cedar and mint body wash rolled into the hallway, establishing an overwhelming, dominant presence.

Emmett walked out. He was wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped low around his waist. His broad chest and long legs were completely bare.

Droplets of water clung to his skin, sliding down the hard, defined lines of his abdominal muscles before disappearing into the edge of the towel. The raw, aggressive male energy radiating from him sucked the oxygen out of the room.

Gabriella gasped. She spun around instantly, her grip slipping on the cake box. She barely caught it before it hit the hardwood floor.

Emmett stopped drying his hair. He stared at her stiff back. A low, mocking chuckle rumbled in his chest.

He deliberately slowed his steps, walking up right behind her.

"Are you satisfied with the view?" he asked. His voice was thick with a low-pressure teasing that made the hairs on her arms stand up.

Gabriella's ears burned. She kept her eyes glued to the wall.

"I have absolutely zero interest in exhibitionists," she snapped, her voice tight.

Before Emmett could reply, Eloise poked her head out from the kitchen. She screamed with joy and ran over, throwing her arms around Gabriella.

Eloise shot a furious glare at her brother. She shooed him away, telling him to go put some clothes on. Eloise then grabbed Gabriella's hand and pulled her down the long corridor toward the guest bedroom.

The door to the guest room was slightly open. The room inside was pitch black. Heavy blackout curtains blocked out every ounce of the morning sun.

Seven-year-old Charlee was curled into a tight ball inside a small play tent in the corner. Her tiny fingers were gripping a black crayon so hard her knuckles were white.

The carpet around the tent was littered with dozens of drawing papers. They were all covered in chaotic, violent black lines-monsters with sharp teeth and bleeding eyes.

Gabriella's posture changed instantly. The anger from the hallway vanished. Her eyes became incredibly focused and soft.

She did not walk directly to the tent. She sat down cross-legged on the floor, keeping a safe two-meter distance from the little girl.

Gabriella lowered her voice. She used a slow, rhythmic tone, starting a story about a brave little bear who got lost in a dark forest.

Charlee's violent shaking slowly stopped. She peeked out through the flap of the tent, showing one large, terrified eye.

Emmett appeared silently at the bedroom doorway. He was now wearing a dark turtleneck sweater and casual slacks. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe.

He watched Gabriella work. He watched her endless patience. The coldness in his eyes melted away for a split second, replaced by a dark, intense hunger and deep admiration.

Twenty minutes later, Charlee finally relaxed her grip. The black crayon dropped onto the carpet with a soft thud.

Gabriella slowly stood up. She backed out of the room quietly and pulled the door shut. She turned to face the siblings in the hallway.

She pulled a small notebook and a pen from her bag. She spoke rapidly, listing five severe symptoms of PTSD that Charlee was displaying.

Gabriella looked straight into Emmett's eyes. She did not flinch.

"The root of this trauma is a long-term, violent domestic environment," Gabriella stated firmly. "You need to cut off all contact between Charlee and her father, Gene. Immediately. Otherwise, my psychological intervention is completely useless."

Eloise covered her mouth with both hands. Tears streamed down her face. The fear of her violent adopted brother, Gene, was evident in her shaking shoulders.

Emmett's playful demeanor vanished. The air around him turned freezing cold. He radiated a suffocating, dominant authority that made Gabriella's chest feel heavy.

He stared down at her, his jaw clenched tight.

"Do you have any idea what happens to people who interfere with the internal affairs of the Kane family?" he asked, his voice a lethal whisper.

Gabriella pushed her shoulders back. She met his threatening gaze head-on.

"I only answer to the life of my patient," she replied coldly.

The air in the hallway felt like solid concrete. They stood inches apart, locked in a silent, explosive battle of wills.

The standoff broke when Emmett turned away without a word. He walked with heavy, deliberate steps into the massive living room, heading straight for the custom crystal liquor cabinet.

He poured himself half a glass of single malt whiskey. The ice cubes clinked sharply against the glass, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

Emmett pulled open the drawer of his mahogany desk. He took out a thick checkbook embossed with the dark Cosmos Dynamics logo.

He pulled a Montblanc pen from his pocket. He aggressively signed his name at the bottom of a blank check, the nib scratching loudly against the paper. He walked back and slammed the check onto the glass coffee table.

"Quit your job at the hospital," Emmett ordered. His voice left no room for argument. "You are going to be Charlee's full-time private doctor."

Gabriella looked down at the piece of paper. It was a blank check. She knew she could write any number on that line, and she would never have to worry about money again for the rest of her life.

A cold, bitter laugh escaped her lips. She reached down and picked up the check. Emmett watched her, a hint of surprise flashing in his dark eyes.

Gabriella gripped the edges of the paper and ripped it straight down the middle. The tearing sound was loud and violent.

She tossed the torn pieces into the metal trash can next to the desk.

"I am helping my friend," Gabriella said, her voice hard as stone. "I am not selling myself to an arrogant billionaire."

She grabbed her trench coat from the back of the sofa. She didn't say goodbye to Eloise. She didn't look at Emmett. She marched straight to the elevator and pressed the button.

Emmett's fingers tightened around his whiskey glass. His knuckles turned bone white. His eyes burned with a furious, dark fire. The rejection hit him hard, fueling a terrifying need to conquer her.

The elevator doors slid shut. The moment she was alone, Gabriella's knees went weak. She leaned her back against the cold metal wall of the elevator, gasping for air. Her heart was beating so fast it hurt her ribs.

She walked out of the luxury building. The freezing winter air of Manhattan hit her face, clearing the fog from her brain.

She wrapped her coat tighter around her body and walked fast toward the subway. She had to report for her first day at the new medical center.

An hour later, Gabriella stood on the sidewalk outside the Mount Sinai Medical Center. She smoothed down the wrinkles on her professional skirt.

Just as she reached for the glass door, a flash of silver caught her eye. A stunning Porsche 911 was parked illegally by the curb.

A tall man wearing a perfectly tailored Savile Row suit was leaning against the driver's side door. He was looking down at his expensive watch.

The sun broke through the gray clouds, hitting his golden-brown hair. His side profile looked like a perfect Greek statue.

Gabriella's heart skipped a beat. Her feet froze to the pavement. She stared at the figure, unable to believe her eyes.

The man felt her gaze. He lifted his head. His eyes were a clear, warm ocean blue.

Jerrell Bishop smiled. It was his signature smile-gentle, perfect, and capable of melting all the snow in New York.

He pushed off the car. His long legs carried him through the busy crowd without hesitation. He walked straight toward her.

Gabriella's eyes filled with hot tears. Ten years of loneliness, exhaustion, and fighting her battles alone hit her all at once. Her throat tightened painfully.

Jerrell stopped right in front of her. He opened his arms. His movements were incredibly soft as he pulled her into his chest.

The familiar scent of cedar and amber cologne wrapped around her. Gabriella closed her eyes. Her tense muscles finally relaxed. She felt like a ship that had finally found its harbor.

Jerrell rested his chin on the top of her head. He let out a long, satisfied sigh.

"Welcome home, my girl," he whispered against her hair.

Across the street, parked in the shadows, sat a black, bulletproof SUV. Emmett sat in the back seat. He stared through the heavily tinted window, his eyes locked on the two people hugging on the sidewalk.

The temperature inside the SUV dropped to freezing. The driver in the front seat was sweating profusely, too terrified to even breathe loudly.

Emmett's face was completely blank. He pulled a thick cigar from his pocket. He didn't light it. He gripped it with both hands and snapped it violently in half. Tobacco spilled onto his expensive pants. He pulled out his phone, his voice cold and commanding as he spoke to the person on the other end. "The board meeting is in ten minutes. Tell them I'm on my way." He snapped the phone shut, his eyes still burning with the image of their embrace on the sidewalk.

"Drive," Emmett ordered, his voice sounding like grinding stones.

The black SUV pulled away from the curb like a ghost, disappearing into the chaotic city traffic.

Jerrell slowly released Gabriella. He naturally reached out and took her heavy tote bag from her shoulder. He smiled and pointed toward a high-end cafe across the street, asking if she had time to catch up.