And Elena had just climbed into his car wearing a torn silver dress, bleeding feet, and absolutely nothing to offer him.
Before she could respond, the SUV behind them accelerated.
Its headlights flooded the back window.
“Mr. Carranza,” the driver said, glancing at the rearview mirror. “They’re closing in.”
Matthew’s expression hardened.
“Take the old industrial road. Call security and tell them to meet us at the eastern entrance.”
“Yes, sir.”
The driver turned sharply. Elena was thrown against the seat, and a frightened cry escaped her throat.
Matthew immediately reached out to steady her.
“Easy. You’re safe.”
“No,” she whispered. “You don’t understand. Isabel knows powerful people. She’ll tell them I stole something. She’ll say I attacked someone. She’ll make everyone believe I’m the criminal.”
“Who is Isabel?”
“My stepmother.”
“And the man she locked you in a room with?”
“Mr. Ambrose. One of her business partners.”
Matthew’s eyes narrowed.
