Chapter Twenty-Eight
Isabella summoned a polite smile, though her attention drifted from the dinner conversation at the table she shared with her parents, the mayor of Charlotte, and the chairman and CEO of Providence Bank and his wife.
Danny lingered in the shadows, a silent sentinel.
No matter how hard she tried to focus, her gaze kept finding him.
Glancing over her shoulder, she spied Danny’s boss, Nathan, with his wife. The casual intimacy between the two tightened something in Isabella’s chest. She’d met Emily a handful of times over the years because of their fathers, and she’d always envied the other woman’s fearless independence.
Interesting that she’d ended up with a former Navy SEAL, considering Admiral Dane’s domineering ways.
Isabella understood the impulse to break free. Lately, she’d been feeling it herself.
Across the room, Olivia Flores stood apart from the crowd.
Watching.
As if sensing her stare, Olivia looked her way.
Their eyes met. Held.
A flicker of unease tightened Isabella’s lungs.
After what Danny had told her, she wanted nothing to do with the woman.
“Excuse me.” She pushed back from the table and made her way to the podium.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the reporter move in her direction.
Danny closed the distance in seconds, his strides long and purposeful. He reached her before Olivia did, cupping her elbow as he helped her up the steps onto the stage.
The chill on his face was enough to make Olivia stop short, her features pinching.
At the podium, Isabella aligned the speakers’ notes with careful precision, buying herself a moment. She tapped the mic softly with her fingernail, listening to the soft echo.
Everything was set.
Danny took up position near the stage steps.
As did Olivia, at a distance.
Irritation pulled Isabella’s muscles tight. Chin lifted, she kept her attention on Danny, sliding her hand into his as he helped her down the stairs.
Olivia inched forward. “Ms. Strickland.”
Danny shifted, placing himself just ahead of Isabella. “She has nothing to say to you.” The frost in his tone chilled the air.
Isabella stepped around him, her face settling into a serene mask. People were watching.
“Not here.” She indicated the door leading out to the main hall, and without giving Danny time to veto her, she moved to the door.
Danny muttered something under his breath, but instead of trying to stop her, he followed.
As did Olivia Flores.
Once the doors to the ballroom closed, Isabella turned to the reporter, her tone icy.
“I can speak for myself, but Mr. Mayhew is correct. I have nothing further to add to our previous interview—especially after discovering your ulterior motive.”
Olivia’s gaze flicked between Isabella and Danny. “What ulterior motive? I was doing my job.”
“Does your job include leaving threatening notes on Ms. Strickland’s car?” Danny’s smile was all teeth, and Isabella wasn’t sure anyone would be fooled into thinking it was friendly.
Olivia fell back a step, her mouth going slack. “What are you accusing me of?”
“The newspaper neglected to mention your campus protest days when they submitted your media credentials,” Danny said.
Color surged up the reporter’s neck, her posture stiffening. “That was years ago. Those charges were dropped. And I did not leave a threatening note on your car.”
Isabella glanced at the gold watch adorning her wrist. “Not the time or place. I need to escort the mayor to the podium.”
“I’m not the threat,” Olivia hissed. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.” She took a step toward Isabella.
“Back away.” Danny’s voice was low. Lethal.
“But—”
“Enough.” Isabella’s heart was pounding as she cut off whatever the reporter had been about to say. “I have to begin the program.” She stepped back into the ballroom, smoothing her hands over her dress, pretending not to notice her parents’ concerned looks.
Control. Her mask back in place, she returned to her parents’ table.
“Everything all right?” Her father’s sharp eyes studied her. “Was that woman causing problems again? We should ask security to kick her out.”
“She’s a member of the press, Dad. You don’t want that to be what the paper runs with tomorrow as their headline instead of your campaign bullet points.”
She pressed a hand to his shoulder, then smiled at the mayor. “If you’re ready.”
Once the mayor was on stage, Isabella stepped to the side, the air easing from her lungs.
Talia appeared at her elbow. “Are you okay? What did the reporter want?”
“Nothing important.” Now wasn’t the time to get into it.
“I’ve got to use the ladies’ room. Come with me before your dad speaks.” Talia linked fingers with Isabella and tugged her toward the back of the room.
Danny slipped back into position as the room settled and the chatter from his team slowly died down.
Still, something felt off. There was an itch beneath his skin. A restlessness he couldn’t shake.
Olivia had looked genuinely shocked at the accusation. Either she was an accomplished actress, or she wasn’t responsible for the note.
Didn’t mean she was innocent.
He tracked her as she shouldered her way past a photographer and swept through the door exiting the ballroom.
Danny made eye contact with Nathan and tilted his head in Olivia’s direction.
Nathan leaned toward his wife. A moment later, Emily pushed back from the table and followed.
His attention shifted to Bella, as it had too many times this evening.
Thank God he had a highly skilled team of men and women working with him tonight, because his focus was not what it should be.
All he could see was Bella in her demure yet somehow still sexy-as-hell gown.
Her makeup was heavier than usual, but damn, it made the gold in her eyes pop, and that lipstick highlighted lush, sensual lips that he wanted to feast on.
When tonight was over, he intended to fuck her until they were both too exhausted to get out of bed.
He straightened. Bella and Talia were leaving the ballroom.
He hurried to catch up. “Bella.”
Both women turned.
“We’re going to the ladies’ room.” Talia peered down the hall toward the elevators. “The reporter went that way. Let’s use the other restroom.” She tugged Bella in the opposite direction.
“I’ll escort you.”
“Into the ladies’ room?” Talia shot back, her brows arching.
“Danny.” Bella’s fingers grazed his coat sleeve. “It’s right outside the ballroom. I don’t see you escorting other guests.”
His jaw tightened. The other guests weren’t her.
He followed them anyway.
A security guard stood within sight of the restrooms on the far side of the ballroom, where the hallway branched off toward several smaller meeting rooms.
“See?” Talia waved her hand toward the guard. “He’ll make sure we can pee in peace.”
Danny tamped down the irritation prickling his skin and planted himself beside the wall. “I’ll wait.”
“Heads up.” Tavari’s voice in his ear. “We’ve got a breach in the parking deck. Multiple bodies moving toward the service elevators.”
“Headed there now.” Caleb’s voice.
Danny swore under his breath.
Bella and Talia had disappeared into the restroom.
Every instinct told him not to leave.
“We need more back up.” Tavari again. The former sniper’s voice remained calm, but the clipped tone caught Danny’s attention.
Fuck.
Danny glanced at the guard. He pointed to the restroom door. “Make sure the women who just went inside make it back to the ballroom.”
Then he tapped the mic on his collar. “I’m on my way.”
“Your man certainly takes his job seriously.” Talia shot Isabella an arch look as she reapplied lipstick.
The lighting above the spacious mirror glinted off the large ring adorning Talia’s middle finger—a polished gemstone in an antique gold setting, the red so dark it almost appeared black.
Large teardrop garnets bordered by diamonds dangled from her ears.
“This bathroom is ten feet away from the ballroom.”
Isabella shrugged. “He’s just doing his job.” Although she had to agree. So far, the night had been a success, and, other than the uncomfortable run-in with Olivia Flores, she’d felt safe.
Even if a nagging sense of unease persisted.
Nerves. She’d poured a lot of time and effort into this event.
As soon as Talia finished, they stepped out.
They’d barely cleared the restroom when chaos erupted from the floor below, near the escalator connecting the lobby to the ballroom level.
A man in black surged up the unmoving escalator, taking the steps two at a time.
The man Isabella had seen outside with the megaphone.
Behind him, a woman, the whistle at her lips shrieking.
Someone shouted.
Movement exploded around them as security and protesters converged.
She stalled mid-step. Beside her, Talia went rigid.
The back of Isabella’s neck prickled.
She turned.
The noise from the scuffle faded.
Miran Hassan’s son.
Perspiration beaded his forehead. His gaze burned bright. Intent.
Somehow, she forced sound past the tightness in her throat, even as her feet stayed cemented to the floor. “Why are you here?”
He threw a cautious glance at Talia before returning his focus to Isabella. “Because the sins of the father shouldn’t be visited upon the child.”
Talia shifted in front of her, her body angled in a protective posture. “You don’t belong here.”
The man’s expression tightened.
Isabella wasn’t in the hallway any longer.
She was twelve again.
Trapped.
Your father will feel what I feel.
“Bella!”
Danny’s bellow broke through the memory like a gunshot.
Hassan’s head snapped toward the sound. His hand shot out, iron-tight around Isabella’s wrist. “Listen to me…”
“Leave her alone!” Talia’s hands slammed into Hassan’s chest, shoving hard.
Hassan staggered back, Isabella’s wrist still in his grip.
Her heel caught. The floor rushed up.
A powerful arm wrapped around her waist, hauling her back.
Danny.
He set her on her feet and pivoted in the same motion, forearm locking around Hassan’s throat. “Bella—inside the ballroom, now!” he barked. “Tavari!”