Panic surged through Eliana, rooted her to the spot. The tattooed leader at the café entrance had shifted his hand, and the metallic glint of a weapon was unmistakable.

Oh no! He’s going to be ambushed! In that frantic heartbeat, Eliana’s thoughts flashed to her twins, Adrian and Aileen. They carried that man’s features, his intensity, his very DNA. Regardless of the bitterness she felt toward him for the mystery of their past, she couldn't let their father—the only link to their heritage—be struck down in a hotel lobby.

“Eliana? Eliana! Answer me!” Gabrielle’s shrill voice barked through the phone.

Without a word, Eliana cut the call and sprinted toward the café, weaving past the startled servers to reach the corner table before the armed men could close in.

She threw herself into the man’s space, wrapping her arms around his neck in a desperate embrace. “There you are! How could you leave me waiting like that?” she wailed, her voice loud enough to draw every eye in the room.

Maurice froze, his body tensing like a coiled spring. He looked down at the woman who had suddenly invaded his personal space, her eyes brimming with faux-tears. “What on earth are you doing?” he asked, his voice a low, bone-chilling rasp.

Eliana didn't let go. She lowered her voice to a frantic whisper against his ear. “Don't look back. Just play along if you want to get out of here in one piece!” Then, returning to her loud ‘performance,’ she gasped, “I came all this way to tell you... we’re having a talk about our future. You can’t just ignore me!”

The patrons in the café began to whisper. “Look at that handsome jerk, breaking that poor girl's heart,” one whispered.

Maurice’s face turned gloomy. He recognized her—the woman from the design department, the one who had recognized him in the club. Is she truly insane? he wondered. Yet, as he looked into her eyes, he saw a genuine flash of terror that didn't match her melodramatic words.

The elegant woman sitting opposite Maurice was stunned. She had worked for the Moran Group for years and had never seen anyone dare to touch the CEO with such audacity, let alone lecture him in public.

“Sir, should I—” the woman began, her hand moving toward her bag.

Maurice shot her a sharp, silent warning. The woman understood immediately, gathered her things, and made a swift exit.

Eliana watched her go, leaning back slightly. Her nose brushed against Maurice’s cheek, sending an accidental jolt of electricity through her. She tried to pull away, but Maurice’s hand suddenly clamped around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

A faint, dangerous smile touched his lips. “Honey, why the rush? If we’re discussing our future, let's not be shy.”

Eliana’s heart hammered. “I—I was just—”

She glanced toward the entrance. The three brawny men hadn't left with the other woman. They were moving deeper into the café, their eyes scanning the room. They weren't after the woman; they were after him.

“Run!” Eliana hissed. Using every ounce of her strength, she yanked Maurice out of his chair and dragged him toward the hotel’s rear service exit.

Maurice allowed himself to be led, watching the back of her head with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. “Why are we running, Eliana? I don't recall being a fugitive.”

Before she could answer, they burst into a side corridor, only to run straight into Antwan Blake.

“You!” Antwan’s double chin quivered with rage. He looked at Eliana and then at the man holding her. His eyes filled with a repulsive, lustful greed. “You’ve caused me enough trouble. Maybe if you’re cooperative now, I’ll let your project move forward.”

He reached out to grab Eliana’s waist, but he never made contact. Maurice moved with a blur of practiced efficiency, his foot connecting with Antwan’s midsection.

Thud.

Antwan collapsed into a heap, howling in pain. Eliana stared at Maurice, her jaw dropping. He didn't move like a "playboy" or a stranger; he moved like someone trained for war.

“You’re welcome,” Maurice said sardonically, his expression as cold as ice.

Eliana caught sight of the three tattooed men entering the corridor. “They’re still coming! Move!” She grabbed his hand again, and they sprinted out of the hotel and into the darkening streets of the city.

They ran until the crowds thinned and the sounds of the hotel faded. Eliana stopped, gasping for air, her lungs burning. “Did... did we lose them?”

Maurice stood perfectly still, glancing over his shoulder. “No one is following us.” He caught a glimpse of the three men in the distance; at a subtle gesture from his hand, they immediately halted and melted back into the shadows.

Eliana breathed a sigh of relief and tried to let go of his hand, but Maurice gripped her fingers firmly. He pulled her into the shadow of a quiet alleyway, his other hand lifting her chin to force her to meet his gaze.

“Now,” he whispered, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “Suppose you tell me exactly what that ‘performance’ was about.”