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V ivienne Day was spoiled. Confused. Selfish.

At least, that’s what her parents had drilled into her head for the past month. She didn’t want to marry Scott, and once her family’s insistence, and his, had turned feral in nature, she was already trapped. A determined bead of sweat worked its way down her back, which was a feat because the bodice of her dress was digging into her sides, making it hard to draw a breath. Between the beaded mermaid gown squeezing the life out of her and the rising panic closing her throat, passing out seemed like a real possibility. She wanted out. So much that she’d reached out to her sister Hannah who lived in Virginia with her nephew Collin.

Hannah had broken away from the family or pushed out, depending on how you looked at it, when she discovered she was pregnant at eighteen. Their parents wanted to sweep that dirty secret under the lid of a grand piano and slam it shut. In other words, they wanted to force her to end the pregnancy. Hannah had other ideas though and wasn’t afraid to make her own way to protect her baby. She was brave and strong-willed, so she up and left. Hannah was Vivienne’s hero. Strong in ways she could never be. Here she was, though. Giving it her all. This would either set her free, cost her everything, or worse, put someone she loved in harm’s way.

“Your hands are ice.” Concern darkened Thalia’s eyes. Blades of spring grass to unripened olives.

Vivienne swallowed hard and did something she didn’t do with anyone else. Told the truth. “I’m scared.” It wasn’t like she was a pathological liar, but when she spoke no one cared too much what she had to say unless it was making them money, and so, she’d stopped. Thalia Flores was her best friend, though. It was a secret friendship. One that was limited by Vivienne’s family and the absurd societal hierarchy between them. This was modern day, not some episode of Bridgerton , and still, she wasn’t allowed to hang out with Thalia because she was her personal attendant.

“I know.” Understanding flashed over Thalia’s face, and she gave Vivienne’s hands a quick double squeeze before releasing them. Thalia’s hands dropped to her sides, while Vivienne curled hers around her midsection seeking warmth that wasn’t there. All her skin connected with were layers of lace appliques and lines of beadwork.

“I didn’t get a moment to speak with Hannah while our makeup was getting done. What if she hates me? Or her boyfriend didn’t read the note?” Her voice reflected her waning oxygen levels. Breathless.

“Vivienne, stop. You’re going to hyperventilate. Let’s go over the plan again. I’ll make a distraction—”

“No!” She hadn’t meant to shout quite so loudly. She never knew when someone was sneaking around waiting to eavesdrop on her conversations. “You’ve taken too many risks today.” First, Thalia had penned the note to Hannah for her. Vivienne’s writing was nearly illegible, and getting the words floating in her head down on paper never seemed to click. Then Thalia had fallen to the floor, feigning some illness, giving her time to run past the butler who’d been instructed to guard her bedroom door. Never had she thought she’d be a prisoner on the estate where she grew up, but that was exactly what had happened.

“I love you, Vivienne. I’ll take the risks. You are the one thing that eased my heartache when I was brought here.”

Before she had a moment to ask what she meant by that, footsteps shuffling over the floor silenced her words. Her father’s large frame filled the doorway. The look on his face, the red of his cheeks, the flair of his nostrils, made her heart bottom out into her stomach. His eyes locked on Thalia, and she instinctively skirted between them.

“I’m ready,” she announced, trying to make sense of the hostile energy that hung in the air.

“Thalia. Come here.” The corner of his neatly trimmed mustache twitched.

Thalia’s warm palm touched her back briefly, then she moved around Vivienne, head lowered and stopped at her father’s side. His meaty palm closed around Thalia’s upper arm, and she sucked in a breath, stepping forward. Thalia’s face jerked quickly to the left, her eyes pleading as if to say don’t . Her father quickly turned, yanking Thalia with him over the threshold and into the hallway. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel the blood rushing beneath her skin. The tempo of her pulse jumping at her neck and wrists. Her father must’ve found out Thalia had helped her, sealing her friend’s fate. What had she done? Vivienne couldn’t let her wants override Thalia’s safety, and in the clutches of her father, she was anything but safe. Especially if she had angered him in some way. Her feet were moving over the plush heirloom rug when Scott, her fiancé, and Rochelle, the wedding planner from hell, entered the room.

“Stop this.” His hair was slicked back and the dark eyes that had once charmed her were cold. “Your mother told me something went on at the house this morning. That Thalia was involved. What did you do?” His voice was demanding. He got his way or people got trampled beneath his designer shoes.

“Where is he taking her?” Her bottom lip was trembling with the effort not to burst into tears.

“Thalia is in the country illegally. She’s as good as gone.”

His words delivered a sharp blow to her chest. How silly to think she was panicking before. Now her lungs were truly stripped bare. He crossed the room, and the sharp, spicy scent of his cologne assaulted her nostrils. She opened her mouth to demand to know more, but Scott roughly gripped her chin between his thumb and index finger. “Behave like an adult. You think I want to marry you? I don’t. This is about creating an alliance.” His wine-soured breath and an occasional fleck of spit hit her face. A burning sensation pricked behind her lids, not because of his words, though. His grip continued to tighten until she was sure her jawbone would snap. None of the things he said was new information. His proposal a few weeks ago was prefaced by a similar statement.

“You’ve gotten through life because of the way you look, but I know the truth. All beauty. Less than zero brains. You should be on your knees thanking me for agreeing to this union. No more whining or acting like you’re the one getting a raw deal here.” He released her chin, the smooth pads of his fingers leaving a tingling sensation in their wake before his palm made purchase with her upper arm. “After you my dear.” His hand swept out, gesturing to the door that would take them to the party below. She stiffened when they reached the top of the stairs. She could picture Scott roughly shoving her down them. If that mental image didn’t scream doomed marriage, she didn’t know what did. One thing she was certain of though; was this was no longer about her.

Her ability to get out of this situation and away from her family meant she could get help for Thalia. She could try to bargain. Tell Scott and her parents she’d only marry him if they didn’t do anything to harm Thalia. Maybe in a different family that would work, but not in one that would quickly agree to a deal and break it just as easily. Releasing a less than steady breath, she took the first step. The boisterous chatter faded to hushed whispers as she descended the stairs. The thick scent of lilies and wood polish hung in the air. A few women at the table closest were obviously speculating the designer of her dress. Another mumbled their approval with a swift intake of breath.

Her mother, Agatha, crossed toward her and the expression of love and concern sliced right through her. How she wished that expression was genuine. One that she saw often and out of public view. Agatha held out her arms and leaned in to kiss both cheeks, and leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Smile.” Her hot breath hissed into Vivienne’s eardrum, and she fought the urge to flinch. Instead, she plastered a smile on her face so their guests would assume an endearing sentiment was being shared. “Don’t mess this up.”

When Scott came down the stairs, he gave a politician’s wave and flashed those in attendance a bright smile. Again, he gripped her arm and lead her to one of the tables without so much as a smile or a tender touch. And then she spotted Hannah’s glossy red hair, curled into soft waves that flowed over her bare freckled shoulders and onto her heavily beaded dress. Her expression was real, and it was startling. If looks could cause someone to wither and die, Hannah’s would’ve melted Scott to the floor like a coat of wax.

Hannah’s anger on her behalf gave her a much-needed boost. Scott raised his glass to the crowd. “Family and friends,” he toasted and warmth poured from his voice. His arm slid around her waist, and he tilted his chin to glance at her with an expression of endearment. A chill snaked down her spine. Her fiancé could make people believe anything. He could hurt her, demean her, spread lies, and no one would believe her over him. “Thank you for embracing us with love on this joyous occasion. Please take your seats for the first course.”

As if waiting for the invitation to begin serving, the waitstaff suddenly appeared and circled through the room, placing salad plates on the golden chargers already laid out on the table. The course was paired with wine as were the second and third. If she was going to do this, it had to be soon. She noticed Hannah and Collin leaving their seats.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Vivienne told her fiancé. The man gave her a look that could only be described as disgust.

“Can’t you wait until our guests leave?” He didn’t bother to hide the annoyance. Their table was mostly out of earshot. A sweetheart table so the happy couple could be displayed for all to see.

“Not unless you want me to pee my dress and make a scene.” Thinking of Thalia pushed heat she didn’t know she possessed into her voice.

“Don’t be so childish.”

She picked up her small clutch that contained her phone, charger, and wallet, then stood and crossed the room, sure someone would be following her momentarily. Her heart thundered as she glanced back into the rehearsal dinner room filled with obnoxious laughter, before closing the door lightly behind her. Like she could use the restroom in a dress that weighed a gazillion pounds. Her heels clicking over the marble floor was amplified by her anxiety. Surely, she wasn’t being as loud as she thought. If she hadn’t been practically born wearing stilettos, she’d probably sprain her ankle on the glossed floors. She swallowed down a gulp of fear. Fear that her estranged older sister Hannah hadn’t gotten her message. Fear that she’d be forced into a marriage with someone she’d grown to despise. Fear because for the first time, she was standing up to her oppressive family and making a choice for her future. One of her choosing.

She bypassed the ladies’ room and went straight past the kitchen and out the back door of the club. Even though the sun was low on the horizon, the Texas heat still blanketed the air. She looked around and her breath hitched. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but there was no one here. Maybe Hannah hadn’t received her SOS, or maybe she planned to meet her at the Lone Star Motel like she had Thalia write in the note. No one would expect to find her at a place like that. If a rescue wasn’t coming, she’d have to save herself like Hannah had years ago. She was just about to slip off her heels and run when a vehicle swerved around the corner.

The black SUV stopped, and the back door opened. Broad shoulders and a wide chest filled out the frame. She was momentarily stunned by the man’s size, even more so when he stood to full height. Her heel-clad feet were glued to the pavement as the man ran toward her. His gate was choppy, as if he’d had a recent injury. He stopped about five feet from her. “Vivienne, we’re here to help. We’re the good guys.”

Maybe she was stupid to believe him, but the way he paused to give her space and the soft expression on his face made him seem less formidable. She tilted her chin and instantly he was at her side, wrapping his arm securely around her shoulder. Now was not the time to be preoccupied by this stranger’s scent, but she found herself breathing him in, unable to get enough of the light, spearmint scent. Unlike her former fiancé’s expensive cologne, she had a feeling this man was content with a bar of soap in the shower. He protectively hustled her to the back seat of the car, lifting the train of her ridiculous dress. Refreshing cold air flowed over her skin, as he slid in beside her.

“Get down. Everything will be okay.” His voice was low and rough without a single hint of the panic she was feeling. The car accelerated. Staying down like the man suggested meant she couldn’t see where they were going, but she really didn’t care so long as it was away from her family. She angled her head to look at him and swallowed hard when she found his quiet gray eyes locked on her. “I’m Iron,” he said. “Up there behind the wheel is Silver. We’re friends of your sister, and we’re gonna get you out of this.”

There were so many things she wanted to blurt out ranging from thank you for saving me to you have the most mesmerizing, steady eyes I’ve ever seen , but the words were clogged in her throat.

“Nice to meet you, Vivienne.” The man driving, Silver, said in a tone almost as gruff as the man sitting beside her. Still, his voice did nothing to calm her like Iron’s did. She glanced to the left again, holding his intense gaze. Instead of feeling uncomfortable though, she felt grounded. Then the car swerved, Iron gripped her arm to keep her from flying, and Silver swore and slammed on the breaks.

“Jesus Christ.” The driver jumped out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind him. She sat up to get a better look at why he’d stopped and gasped, ramming against her own door. “Collin!” Her nephew had nearly gotten hit by their car.

“Vivienne, wait.” She ignored Iron’s voice and stumbled out of the car.

“Are you okay?” she asked coming up beside Collin. His hands were moving quickly in front of his face as he rocked forward.

“Mom. Mom and Aunt Regina.” He pointed toward the woods, voice high with panic. “The cards. I dropped the cards.”

“Smart.” Her nephew had autism, but even through what must have been an overwhelming event, not to mention whatever was happening in the woods, he’d found help. And she was certain that Hannah would need help if she was in the forest with Regina. She didn’t know what her older sister had planned but there was a sick sensation building in her belly and she wasn’t going to ignore it. She took off into the woods, kicking off her heels in the first few steps, as the men shouted behind her. Collin was right about the playing cards. They were littered over the ground like a bread crumb trail.

A twig snapped behind her and she glanced back. Iron was on her heels, but instead of being scared by his presence, she was relieved to have an ally. She stopped briefly where the cards ended and tried to listen to her surroundings over her ragged breath. Then she heard it. Her sister Hannah’s shout. She looked in the direction of the cry to where Regina was dragging her sister down an embankment. Iron was calling behind her, but she couldn’t wait. She couldn’t let Regina hurt her sister, especially after she’d come to her aid. “Regina! Stop,” she screamed. Her older sister stiffened, then stood, letting go of Hannah.

“Stay where you are.” Regina’s voice was shrill, and she raised her hands pointing a gun in her direction. A shot rang out as something solid slammed into her side, knocking the breath out of her. Her cheek smacked against something hard, and pain radiated up her arm. She struggled to get air into her lungs, and when she was able to take a breath, she instantly relaxed. Spearmint. Iron had dived on top of her. She hadn’t been shot. Chaos was erupting around them, though, as police officers arrived, shouting demands. Her eyes found Hannah, who was hugging her Navy SEAL boyfriend, Branch.

She struggled against Iron, until she twisted her body beneath him. “Are you okay?” Fear made her voice shake.

His head jerked back, and he raised his brows. “I’m the one who should be asking you, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

It was silly for her stomach to somersault at the endearment, but suddenly she was all too aware of his hips pressed into hers. The weight of his muscled body. A pang of longing spiked through her body, shocking her. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or because Iron had saved her life without hesitation, but the elemental pull she was currently experiencing was deeper than anything she’d ever experienced. His eyes darkened, pupils expanding, as he met her gaze. “You protected me. You don’t even know me. So you first. Are you okay?” she repeated.

“Fuck.” He muttered and closed his eyes. No one had ever sworn in front of her before, but that word rolling off his lips seemed more like a prayer or a promise than a dirty word. “I’m okay, but you’re not. I jumped on you hard. Cheek’s bleeding.” One moment passed, then two, until he cleared his throat and gingerly rolled off her. Suddenly she no longer felt warm and safe.

She sat up, tugging at her dress that had been pulled down dangerously low.

Iron made a strange sound in the back of his throat and whipped his shirt over his head. “Don’t know how you ran so fast in that dress. Here, put this on. You’ll be more comfortable.” Iron didn’t wait for her reply before he slipped the shirt over her head. She sighed when the soft fabric, warmed by his body, covered her exposed skin. The urge to breathe in the T-shirt to capture his scent again was strong, if not a little weird. Her reactions to Iron were unlike anything she expected but perhaps she should cut herself some slack. It wasn’t everyday she was face-to-face with a man who made her mouth go dry.

She’d been pushed toward modeling at a young age and seen all types of well-honed muscles and beautiful faces. It wasn’t as though Iron wasn’t handsome in the traditional sense, but his body wasn’t anything like the pampered and glossed individuals on her photo shoots. His form was rough, hard, and heavily tattooed. Scars and deep gauges ran the length of his torso. She wanted to ask how he’d gotten each one, but now wasn’t the time. Who was she kidding, she’d probably never have a chance to ask because once she got to safety, the man would most likely be long gone. He was helping her because of Hannah. Nothing more.

When he muttered something beneath his breath, she followed his gaze to his leg. It was bent at the knee in an unnatural position that made her stomach roll. “You’re not okay at all. Your leg. I’m going to get one of the officers and—”

The warmth of his palm right above her elbow stopped her from standing “Appreciate the concern, but this injury is old.” He lifted the right leg. Between the gap between his sneaker and ankle, a metal prosthetic was visible. She’d never seen one before, but knew they existed.

She didn’t say anything for one breath, then two. There were so many questions she was interested in asking, but instead she locked them away for the time being. “Do you want help getting up?” She moved over the dirt, getting onto her hands and knees.

She couldn’t pinpoint the expression on his face, but he stared at her for a moment. “Sometimes, too much sweat loosens the grip of the prosthetic. Rarely happens, but it can.” He rolled up the hem of his pants over his knee.

“It’s not broken, is it?” After all he’d done to help her, she’d be devasted if he damaged his prosthetic. She placed her hand on what she supposed was the calf of the device. His gaze dropped to where her palm rested.

“No. Don’t think so.” His voice was so quiet, it was almost lost among the crackle of radios and Regina’s hysterical cries.

She removed her hand, and for some odd reason wished she didn’t have to. “I’m going to check on Hannah.”

Leaves crunched beneath her feet as she stood and turned toward the hill and Hannah. Regina was being led out of the woods by three officers, and seeing her disappearing into the thick forest lifted a perpetual weight off her chest. Her breath caught when she realized Hannah was still laying down. Branch was kneeling at her side across from a paramedic taking her vitals, there was another at her feet. The smears of red marring her dress made static buzz in her ears. She rushed forward and dropped down next to Branch by her sister’s head. “Oh my God, Hanni. This is all my fault.”

“Absolutely not.” Her breathing was shallow, like it hurt Hannah to talk. “You’re not blaming yourself.”

“I—” She exchanged a look with Branch and could feel moisture welling up in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” Twin tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Hannah’s right. You weren’t the one that inflicted Hannah’s pain. You didn’t cause any of this.”

“I asked you for help.” A sob broke from her lips.

“We would’ve been mad if you didn’t.”

How they were being so calm, she had no idea.

“I’m going to take a look at your leg,” the paramedic kneeling at Hannah’s side unwrapped the blood pressure cuff from her arm. “So we can decide how to best support your injuries during transport, but I’m going to need to cut the bottom of the dress.”

“Please do,” Hannah said, and the paramedic by her feet slowly cut along the hem. When the man got to the spot by her knee, her sister gasped, and the paramedic whispered a quick apology. Her knee was triple its usual size and blood was flowing freely down her freckled skin. Vivienne rocked back to get a better look and instantly felt woozy. She didn’t have to be in the medical field to know that something was extremely wrong with Hannah’s knee. Vivienne swayed, head light, stomach churning when two hands gripped her shoulders. Instead of slumping forward, her back was braced with strength. Sure. Steady. Iron. “Got you.” His voice ruffled the top of her head, and even though guilt and anxiety over Hannah’s injury still swarmed her chest, now she didn’t feel so alone.

The paramedic who had taken Hannah’s vitals cleared his throat. “Ma’am, I’d like to give you something for the pain. Would that be okay?”

“More than.” Hannah tried to offer a smile and flinched.

“Okay.” The paramedic offered her sister a reassuring nod. “Do you have any allergies?”

Hannah shook her head. It was so hard to watch the way her body was shaking with pain.

“Any chance you might be pregnant?”

When her sister shook her head again, the paramedic wiped something over her arm. “Because we’ve yet to place an IV, I’m going to give you an intramuscular dose of morphine sulfate. That means I’ll give you a shot that goes right where I just cleaned your arm.”

After the paramedic administered the shot, Vivienne watched the pain medication take effect before her eyes. The line that creased her sister’s brow lessened. Her expression softened. She still wasn’t certain that everything would be okay, but with Iron at her back and a real relationship with her sister a possibility on the horizon, Vivienne was cautiously hopeful.