Chapter 28 Ambush

Chapter 28 Ambush
Daniel’s POV

The back entrance of the restaurant is exactly as I arranged. The unmarked black door, not many lights, just a single security camera blinking red above. I step out first, scan the alley. It's empty except for our car that's twenty feet away and then offers Nora my hand. She takes it. Her fingers are cool despite the warm night air. The emerald silk of her dress catches the faint glow from the security light. Every movement she makes sends a ripple across the fabric, drawing my eye to the deep V at her neckline, the high slit that flashes her thigh with every step. I force myself to look away from her body and scan the shadows again.
No cameras.
No press.
No flashes.
Yet.
The waiter –Antoine, the same man who’s handled my private bookings opens the door. He nods once, murmurs “Mr. Hawthorne,” and leads us down a narrow service corridor lined with wine crates and polished copper pots.
No main dining room.
No curious guests.
Nora’s hand tightens in mine when we step inside the room.It’s smaller than she expected, I can tell. Deep burgundy walls, single round table, two chairs covered in velvet, candles in heavy crystal holders throwing soft gold across the linen. From the street we’re invisible. From here the city is a private light show.
She exhales, her shoulders dropping half an inch.
“Wow,” she breathes as I pull her chair out. She sits–graceful, I take the seat opposite, close enough that our knees brush under the table.

Antoine appears with the wine list, then disappears with our order, and then we’re alone.I reach across the table, brush my thumb on her wrist.“You’re safe here,” I say quietly.She meets my eyes. “I know.”I lift her hand, press my lips to her knuckles. “Tonight is just us.”She smiles and the knot in my chest loosens.
The first meal arrives: tiny seared scallops, a dot of black caviar, foam of yuzu and sea herbs. She closes her eyes on the first bite and lets out a soft, moaning sound that goes straight to my cock hard.I shift in my seat.
She opens her eyes and catches me staring, and smiles teasing.“You’re staring again.”
“You’re making sounds again.”Her foot slides against my leg under the table. “Is that a problem?”
“Only if you expect me to behave through the meals.”She laughs and takes another bite, deliberately slow, letting her lips close around the fork like she’s remembering exactly where they were earlier today. I’m half-hard already. We eat slowly and her foot climbs higher. Mine presses against the inside of her thigh.
The slit in her dress parts is just enough for me to feel her bare skin. She bites her lip when my shoe nudges higher.The main meal comes and we eat and after we are done we talk.
Not about the board meeting tomorrow. Not about the leaks. About her favorite novel, about how Pickles once stole an entire sock drawer and redistributed the contents under every piece of furniture, about the tiny scar above my left eyebrow she finally asks about.
“Bike crash. I was twelve years old. I thought I was invincible.”She reaches across the table, traces the champagne tip with her fingertip. “You still think that sometimes.”

I catch her hand and kiss the center of her palm. “Not anymore.”
Dessert arrives: Chocolate and hot raspberry sauce poured over it. The shell melts, revealing vanilla mousse and fresh berries underneath.
Nora takes one spoonful and closes her eyes and lets out a moan. It's soft, hot,and fucking sexy. My fork clatters against the plate and she opens her eyes smiling wickedly.

And then there was a flash.
Bright.
Suddenly.
Through the window.My head snaps up.Another flash.Then another. Someone has figured us out already.
“Daniel–”Nora’s voice is small.
I’m already standing. More flashes.
Voices outside.
Shouting.
The unmistakable sound of a camera shutter on burst mode.The door to the private room bursts open.Not Antoine.Three journalists–two men, one woman–pushing past with phones up, record lights blinking red.
“Mr. Hawthorne!! Care to comment on the leaked documents?”
“Is this your new girlfriend?”
“Sources say the board is preparing to suspend you. Any response?”

More pour in behind them–five, six, seven–swarming the small room like locusts.Nora’s chair scrapes back.I round the table in one stride, put myself between her and the cameras.“Back off,” I say angrily.
They don’t. Then one woman journalist, a blonde, aggressively steps forward,placing her foot hard on the hem of Nora’s dress. It's deliberate.The silk rips make Nora stumble and almost fall. Something snaps inside me. But it’s Nora who moves first. She yanks her skirt free, straightens to her full height with her eyes blazing.“Get your fucking foot off my dress,” she snaps at the woman, at all of them her voice shaking with fury, not fear.
“You think you can barge in here, ruin someone’s night, and step on me like I’m nothing? Back off.” The room goes quiet for a moment then the shouting starts again. I grab her hand, pulling her behind me, shoving the cameras from my face.
Microphones.
Until we’re through the door, down the corridor, out the back entrance.The car is already there–engine running, back door open. I help Nora in first shielding her with my body then slide in after her and slam the door.
“Drive,” I bark at the driver. Nora is shaking with anger, not fear. Her hands are fisted in the ruined silk of her dress. The tear in the fabric runs from mid-thigh almost to the hem. She turns to me.
“How did they know?” Her voice cracks. “How did they find us, Daniel?”

I open my mouth.
No words come. Because I don’t know. I really don’t know.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
I pulled it out.
Unknown number.
One message.
You think you can hide? Cute. But secrets have expiration dates. Enjoy dinner while it lasts. Next time we won’t be so polite.
Attached below is a photo. Taken tonight through the window. Nora mid-laugh, the candlelight on her face, my hand on hers across the table.

My blood turns to ice.Nora sees my expression change.
“Daniel?”I turn the screen toward her.
She reads and sees the photo. Her face drains of its color.Then flushes with fury.“Who sent that?” she whispers.
I stare at the message. “I don’t know,” I say quietly. “But I’m going to find out.”She reaches over, covers my hand with hers tight, steady.“Then we find out together,” she says calmly. That moment I realised something terrifying and certain. Whoever sent that message just made the worst mistake of their life because now they’re not just coming for me.They’re coming for her and I will burn the world down before I let them touch her again.
“What do we do now?” she asks, voice low but firm.I turn my hand over, lace our fingers together.“We fight,” I tell her. “And I'm with you.”