CHAPTER TWO
1123 Words
The marble was cold under Alexander's palm.
He left his hand there anyway.
It was nearly one in the morning, and the cemetery was exactly what you'd expect at that hour—dark, quiet, and completely empty.
His car was parked at the bottom of the hill.
He'd told the driver he didn't need him tonight.
He'd told security the same thing.
For once, he wanted to be alone.
“Two years,” he murmured.
The wind moved through the trees above him.
Alexander stared at the name carved into the stone.
His father.
Two years ago, he'd gotten a phone call at ten at night telling him his father had collapsed in his office.
Three months earlier, his father had sat across from him at dinner and said, almost casually, “You'll be running things soon.”
Alexander had assumed he meant eventually.
Apparently, his father had meant very soon.
He'd been twenty-five when he took over A&H Group.
Now he was twenty-seven.
Sometimes it felt like those two years had lasted forever.
Other times, he could still remember the first morning he walked into his father's office after the funeral. Everyone had looked at him differently.
Not like a son anymore.
Like the man in charge.
He'd gotten used to it.
Eventually.
His mother hadn't.
She still watched him whenever they were together, as if she expected him to suddenly admit that he had no idea what he was doing.
Maybe he didn't.
He just wasn't going to tell her that.
Alexander glanced at his watch.
He should leave.
He'd stayed longer than he'd planned.
He gave the grave one last look before turning away.
“Goodnight, Dad.”
He started down the hill.
The road back to his car wasn't the usual route. He'd taken a wrong turn somewhere, but he couldn't be bothered to check his phone.
It wasn't far.
Then he heard a scream.
Alexander stopped.
It came again—or maybe it was only the echo of the first one.
He looked toward the street ahead.
Nothing.
Then he heard a man's voice.
Alexander was already walking before he had time to think about whether he should.
He turned the corner.
Three men.
One girl.
She was backed against a wall, and one of the men had his hand over her mouth.
Alexander stopped.
For a second, he just watched.
Not because he didn't know what was happening.
Because he was trying very hard not to lose his temper.
“Let her go.”
His voice carried across the street.
All three men looked at him.
The one closest to him laughed.
“Mind your own business.”
Alexander took another step.
“I said let her go.”
The man holding the girl's wrists turned fully toward him.
Alexander almost smiled.
Bad decision.
The first man came at him.
He moved on instinct.
Years of training had a way of making certain things automatic. He blocked the man's swing, struck him, and watched him drop.
The second one charged before Alexander had even straightened.
A quick hit to the stomach stopped him.
He doubled over.
The third man froze.
Alexander looked at him.
The man looked at his friends.
Then back at Alexander.
“Go,” Alexander said.
The man didn't need to be told twice.
He ran.
Alexander let him.
He wasn't interested in chasing someone down the street when there was a terrified girl standing ten feet away.
He turned toward her.
She hadn't moved.
Her back was still against the wall.
Her breathing was fast, and she looked like she was trying to convince herself that whatever had just happened was actually over.
“Are you hurt?”
Nothing.
She stared at him.
Alexander lowered his voice.
“Hey. Are you hurt?”
Still nothing.
He took one step closer.
She immediately flinched.
He stopped.
Right.
Too close.
He'd forgotten how frightening he probably looked right now.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “I'm staying right here.”
Her eyes didn't leave him.
“I'm not going to hurt you.”
He had no idea whether she believed him.
Honestly, he wouldn't have believed him either.
He looked down at the men on the ground.
Neither seemed seriously injured.
Good.
He reached for his phone.
“I'm calling the police.”
That finally got a reaction.
Her eyes widened.
Before he could say anything else, she grabbed her bag and ran.
Alexander stared after her.
“Well…”
He lowered his phone.
That hadn't gone how he'd expected.
He watched her disappear around the corner.
He could have followed.
He didn't.
She'd clearly had enough people chasing her for one night.
Instead, he called the police and gave them the location. He answered a few questions, kept his answers short, and left before anyone arrived.
He wasn't interested in standing around explaining himself.
By the time he reached his car, he'd almost convinced himself to forget the whole thing.
Almost.
He sat behind the wheel but didn't start the engine.
The girl's face kept coming back to him.
Not clearly.
He hadn't seen it properly.
Just pieces.
Dark hair.
Wide eyes.
Shaking hands.
The way she'd looked at him like he might be dangerous too.
Alexander frowned.
That part bothered him more than it should have.
He was used to people being careful around him. Employees were careful. Business partners were careful. Even his friends sometimes measured their words around him.
But this had been different.
She hadn't been intimidated.
She'd been scared.
Of him.
He leaned back against the seat.
“Great.”
He'd rescued someone and somehow still managed to scare her.
His phone buzzed.
A message from his assistant.
A reminder about tomorrow's board meeting.
Alexander looked at the screen.
8:00 a.m.
Of course.
He started the engine.
His father had once told him that running a company meant learning how to leave personal things at the door.
Alexander had gotten very good at it.
He could sit through four-hour meetings without showing frustration.
He could listen to someone insult his decisions and respond without raising his voice.
He could walk into a room full of people who wanted something from him and never let them know what he was thinking.
He had built that version of himself carefully.
Controlled.
Calm.
Difficult to read.
Tonight, however, a stranger he'd known for less than two minutes had somehow managed to follow him all the way back to his car.
He didn't know her name.
He didn't know where she lived.
He didn't even know if she'd made it home safely.
He told himself it wasn't his problem.
Then he started driving.
And, annoyingly, he kept wondering if she was okay.
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