Chapter 3 - The Price of a Kick
Dylan Burroughs stepped forward, sweat breaking out across his forehead. He knew exactly what Alexander Vance was capable of. A single word from this man could erase the Burroughs empire overnight.
"Mr. Vance, Alexander... please," Dylan stammered, casting a furious, terrified glare at Libby. "My fiancée didn't know. It was a mistake. We will pay for the best veterinary care. We will do anything to make this right."
Alexander stood up slowly, wiping his hand with a linen handkerchief. He didn't look at Dylan. He looked at his men, who had just entered the room behind him, armed and standing at absolute attention.
"Call my private vet. Secure Goliath," Alexander ordered. Two large men immediately stepped forward with a specialized medical stretcher, gently lifting the massive dog. As they moved him, Goliath whined, his eyes rolling back to look for Molly.
Molly tried to stand up to follow, but the pain in her ribs caught up to her, and she stumbled. Before she could hit the floor, a strong arm caught her by the waist. Alexander pulled her steady, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle.
"Who kicked you?" Alexander asked her, though his eyes were already fixed on Libby’s red stilettos.
Molly didn't want to cause a war, but she couldn't lie. She looked down.
Alexander turned his attention to Libby, who was now trembling so violently she had to hold onto the table for support. "You like using your feet, Ms. Kemp?" Alexander asked, his voice deadpan. "Dylan."
"Yes, Mr. Vance?" Dylan answered instantly.
"The engagement is over," Alexander stated flatly. "By tomorrow morning, your family’s shipping contracts at the port are revoked. If I see this woman in Harrow Falls past sunrise, I will take the rest of your businesses too."
"Alexander, you can't do this!" Libby cried out, desperation breaking through her arrogance. "Over a dog?! Over a worthless waitress?!"
Dylan didn't hesitate. He turned and struck Libby across the face, sending her crashing into the table, shattering the crystal wine glasses. "Shut up!" he screamed at her. "Security, get her out of my sight! She is no longer my fiancée!"
As Libby was dragged out of the room, sobbing and stripped of all her power, Alexander turned back to Molly. He looked at the blood on her uniform, then at her pale, brave face.
"What is your name?" he asked.
May you like
"Molly. Molly Lane."
"Come with me, Molly Lane," Alexander said, wrapping his overcoat around her shoulders. "You saved my family tonight. It's time someone took care of you."
