His Broken Doll's Second Chance

The second Hayden's arms wrapped around him, Alois's body turned into a block of solid ice.

His arms hung stiffly at his sides. His large hands twitched, fighting the violent, instinctual urge to wrap around her waist and pull her closer.

Barnett's eyes bulged. The expensive cigar slipped from his fingers and clattered against the edge of the crystal ashtray. He muttered a harsh curse under his breath.

Alois sucked in a sharp breath. His brows pulled together into a deep, dark scowl.

He brought his hands up and grabbed Hayden's wrists, trying to pry her arms off his neck.

"Let go," he ordered. His voice was a flat, freezing command. "Stop acting crazy."

Hayden felt the hard pressure of his fingers trying to push her away.

Her chest tightened painfully. She panicked and locked her arms even tighter around him.

Her bleeding left wrist dragged across the lapel of his gray suit, leaving a thick, dark red smear of blood against the expensive fabric.

She lifted her face. Her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks soaked with tears.

"I was joking," she cried out, her voice shaking so hard her teeth rattled. "I was just joking."

The sheer absurdity of that excuse sucked all the oxygen out of the room.

Alois stopped trying to push her away.

He looked down at her. His dark eyes narrowed into a dangerous, calculating stare, dissecting every inch of her face.

He stared at her trembling, bloodless lips. He searched her red eyes for the lie, waiting for the trap to spring.

Hayden met his heavy, oppressive gaze. She shook her head frantically.

"I'm not marrying him," she gasped out, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "I'd rather die than marry Erick."

The muscle in Alois's jaw ticked. His breathing hitched, the steady rhythm breaking for a fraction of a second.

He let out a low, mocking scoff.

"Are you really putting on a show this pathetic just to get your hands on the trust fund?" he demanded.

Hayden shook her head harder. She reached up and grabbed his face, her small hands pressing against his hard, cold cheeks.

"Don't leave me," she begged, her voice cracking into a pathetic whine. "Take me home. Please."

Home.

That single word struck the most violently guarded, hidden nerve in Alois's chest.

The dark hostility in his eyes fractured. A deep, bottomless undercurrent of something entirely different bled into his gaze.

Alois didn't say a word.

He suddenly bent his knees. He slid one thick arm under the back of her knees and the other around her back.

Barnett sucked in a sharp breath as Alois lifted Hayden straight off the ground, cradling her against his chest.

The sudden loss of gravity made Hayden gasp. She instinctively turned her face and pressed her ear flat against the hard wall of his chest.

Beneath the layers of his suit, she heard the heavy, rapid thud of his heartbeat. It was beating far too fast.

Alois turned his head. He swept a freezing, warning glare over the bodyguards and Barnett.

"Lock down this entire floor," Alois ordered his assistant, who was standing frozen by the door. "Not a single word of tonight leaves this room. Not even a fly gets out."

The assistant immediately dropped his head. "Yes, Mr. Wyatt." He pulled out his phone and started dialing the club's head of security.

Alois didn't look back. He carried Hayden with long, heavy strides toward the thick, carved wooden doors of the VIP room.

A bodyguard rushed forward and pulled the doors open.

The harsh, fluorescent light of the hallway spilled in.

The sudden brightness stabbed Hayden's eyes. She squeezed them shut and buried her face deeper into Alois's chest, hiding from the light.

Alois tightened his grip on her. He shifted his body, using his broad shoulders to cast a shadow over her face, completely shielding her from the glare.

He walked straight into his private elevator.

The heavy steel doors slid shut, completely cutting off Barnett's suspicious, glaring eyes.