Page 9 of Fallen Heir

Drew never even saw me coming before I threw him halfway across the dance floor.

And he wasn’t getting away that easily.

A flash of anger tore through me, hot and sharp. I had to fight to control my instincts as my bouncers dragged him out of the club. My fists were still clenched, knuckles aching, adrenaline pounding like a war drum in my chest. Every part of me screamed to go after him again—but it wasn’t about Drew.

It was about her.

“Jaxson, what the hell just happened?” Millicent’s voice cut through the haze of my anger.

I turned to her, still trying to steady my breath. “He touched our girl,” I muttered, my voice tight.

Millicent blinked. “What? Who?” Her eyes darted toward Savannah, then back to me.

“Jaxson. Look at me.” She reached for my hands, her touch grounding me like a tether to reality.

I couldn’t say it. Not yet. There was too much I still didn’t know—too much I needed to figure out about Savannah before I said anything, even to Millicent.

“Jaxson,” she said again, softer this time. “It’s okay. Let it go. Drew’s a piece of shit. But he’s not worth your temper. You’ve got bigger things to focus on tonight.”

She was right. I took a breath, forcing the rage to drain from my fists. I was about to blow my cover over someone no one even knew mattered to me.But she did.

Savannah was mine.

Mine to protect.

Mine to fight for.

Because deep down, I had a gut feeling that she’d already fought enough. Whatever made her leave Alabama, whatever demons chased her into this city… they hadn’t caught her yet. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let them.

“Who’s the hot chick you’re with?” I jerked my thumb toward Savannah without thinking.

“Don’t even think about it, Jax. She’s off-limits.”

Millicent arched a brow, lips curling into a smirk. “But you’ll see Monday,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice that hinted at something more.

And just like that, my gut dropped.

Chapter 5

Savannah

The weekend was finally over, and I’d never been more ready for anything in my life.

Today I was meeting my first real client at the firm, and I was determined to make an impression. I’d chosen a deep green suit that brought out the color of my eyes, a small nod to confidence I wasn’t sure I fully had yet. My heels clicked against the tile floor as I crossed the lobby, the sound sharp and steady, exactly how I wanted to feel.

Millie refused to give me the client’s name ahead of time. “No research,” she said. “I want you to form your own impression. Let your instincts lead, not a Google search.”

It annoyed me at first, but now... now it felt like a challenge.

I squared my shoulders as I walked into the conference room, gripping my notepad like it held the key to my next chapter. I was ready to prove myself—to Millie, to this client, and maybe to the version of me I left behind in Alabama. The one who used to practice law beneath her mother’s watchful eye. The one who fought for women in abusive marriages… instead of becoming the one who ran.

What I wasn’t ready for was the man who stepped through the glass doors just moments after I did.

He moved like he owned the world—each step deliberate, assured, like the room shifted just to accommodate him. Broad shoulders filled out the dark fabric of his suit like it had been stitched straight onto his skin. His jaw was sharp, his gaze even sharper, and every line of his body radiated a kind of restrained danger that made it impossible to look away. He wasn’t just attractive. He wasundeniable. And in that split second, I forgot how to breathe.

Tall. Composed. Dangerous in a way that made the air around him crackle. His suit fit like it had been made for war, notbusiness. And when our eyes locked, something in my chest seized.

I had no idea who he was.