The man who’d attacked her—it wasn’t really a man. More of a boy. Long hair. Thin face. Too big clothes. His green eyes were wide with terror as he tried to fight Ethan. It wasn’t a battle that the guy would win.
Because with two hits, Ethan had him on the floor. Before he could go for a third punch, Carly called out, “Stop.” Her voice had been low, nothing like the excited buzz around her.
But Ethan heard her voice. His fist stilled. His head lifted. His gaze met hers.
“I’m okay,” she said.
He bent, grabbed her purse, and strode back toward her.
Just a mugger. Not some crazy ghost from my past. A mugger.
Ethan stood in front of her now. The faint lines near his eyes had deepened, and there was no missing the rage burning in his stare as he held her purse out to her.
Carly took the bag. The knife had sliced right through the strap. She hadn’t even felt it when the purse fell away from her shoulder. She’d been too intent on getting away from her attacker. “Thank you.”
A muscle jerked in Ethan’s jaw.
She glanced around at the crowd. A few people were still filming with their phones, and a uniformed cop was trying to push through the crowd.
Her gaze slid back to Ethan. “You were following me.” That was the only explanation for his sudden appearance. And she should be mad—following someone like that definitely qualified as not normal. But…
He’d just saved her ass. So it was rather hard to be mad at that particular moment.
His hand lifted, and his fingers brushed over her cheek. She didn’t flinch at his touch. In fact, Carly actually felt herself lean into his hand.
Then he pulled away. He turned and just left—without a word.
“Miss!”
Ethan had headed for the stairs.
“Miss!” The cop was beside her now. Ethan was gone. “Miss, I need to find out what happened here…”
What happened? She’d been attacked. Ethan had been there, pulling bodyguard duty and now…
He was gone.
Why do I feel so cold? Why do I want to call him back to me?
Maybe that appointment with her shrink was a better idea than she’d realized. Because wanting to fall back into Ethan’s web was a very deadly mistake.
***
Because of the mugging and the resulting too long talk with the cop, Carly was late for work. And as soon as she went inside, she knew that trouble was waiting for her. Because Fiona Rice, her supervisor at the small PR firm, stood just in front of Carly’s office door.
Oh, crap.
“Fiona,” Carly began quickly. “I can explain…”
She liked Fiona. The woman was intense, a bit edgy, and definitely on the OCD side but—
Fiona waved away her explanation. “You’re wanted…” Her voice lowered. “Upstairs.”
What?
“You’ve been requested for the new PR campaign for the Reflections club that is opening in town.” Fiona gave a firm nod. “This is huge. So huge. And since I’ve been training you…the job you do will reflect on me.”
So don’t screw up!
The other woman didn’t say those words, but Carly understood. Completely.
Then Fiona shocked her—the woman grabbed her hand and practically pulled Carly toward the VP elevator. Or at least, that was how Carly thought of it—only the Very Important People at the company ever went up in it.
“There’s talk,” Fiona told her, voice still hushed, “that the big boss is in town. I’ve only seen him a few times since he took over the company, so if he’s here and you get to meet him…” She blew out a breath. “Tell him how awesome I’ve been.”
“Uh, okay.” Fiona had let her go. Carly was in the elevator and she nervously smoothed her hair. She should have gone for the ponytail or a twist that day, something to make her look more sophisticated but she’d been pretty much running on nerves when she dressed and her goal had been to get out of her home as quickly as possible.
Fiona jabbed a button on the elevator and hopped out. “Remember, don’t screw this up!” Then she gave Carly a big thumb’s up sign.
No screw ups. Check.
The doors closed.
Carly’s reflection stared back at her from the mirrored surface of the elevator walls. “I’ll try not to screw up,” she muttered. But she was pretty much already a serious mess. Her clothes were scuffed and dirty from the attack in the subway. Her hair was definitely disheveled, and her cheeks were way too pale. Hardly the professional image that she wanted to present to the big boss guy. The guy who’d reportedly swooped in and majorly saved the whole place with a buyout. He’d let the employees keep their jobs and he’d pumped a boatload of new cash into the place. Mysterious and rich—that’s all she knew about the guy.