"Isabella! Isabella!" I searched frantically for her, desperate for help. But she was nowhere to be found.
"Stop calling for her!" Lorenzo grabbed me with both hands now. "Come with me! Right now!"
I fought desperately. "Lorenzo, this will only make things worse for me!"
His strength was frightening. "I'm saving you!"
"Let me go!"
"Come with me!"
We grappled like this before everyone's eyes.
I remembered Kholod's parting words, but my purse had tumbled onto the seat, my phone trapped inside, completely beyond reach.
"Lorenzo!" I screamed with every ounce of strength. "If you don't let go, I'm calling the police!"
"Police?" He sneered. "You think the cops dare interfere with Morozov business? Noelle, don't be naive! In Philadelphia, only I can protect you!"
His hands began sliding toward my waist, attempting to lift me bodily.
"Don't you dare touch me!"
"Noelle, don't be frightened, I won't hurt you..."
"Sir!" The restaurant manager finally arrived. "Please stop this! You're disturbing our other guests!"
"Back off!" Lorenzo roared. "This is private business!"
The manager was cowed by his aggression, hesitating and retreating. I looked around desperately—the other patrons merely gawked, no one stepping forward to help.
The pain in my wrist intensified.
Lorenzo's arm was already encircling my waist, preparing to carry me off by force.
Chapter Twenty
Kholod
"So, Mr. Morozov, regarding the shipping route for this cargo, I suggest..."
Harrison's voice echoed through the private room, but I wasn't hearing a damn word. Through the gaps in the blinds, my eyes tracked the figure in the hall below.
Noelle.
She sat in a window booth, sunlight spilling across her, the pale pink dress making her look soft and sweet. Isabella sat across from her, both laughing at something. Seeing her smile like that, my tense nerves relaxed slightly.
Good. She really was just enjoying tea. After dropping her off this morning, Harrison had called for this last-minute meeting—perfect timing to check on her safety before picking her up tonight.
"Mr. Morozov?" Harrison's voice pulled me back. "Do you think this plan will work?"
"It's fine." I turned to the shipping chart on the table. "But you need to guarantee no customs issues during transport."
"You can count on that." Harrison nodded. "I have reliable connections at customs..."
He kept explaining details, but my attention drifted back to the window. Noelle picked up a pastry, taking delicate little bites. Watching her focused expression, my mouth curved slightly upward.
Bringing her out was the right call.
