Chapter 19

Charlotte dropped her bag onto the bed and sat down, glancing around the room. The guest room was spotless, the air crisp, not a single hint that anyone had stayed here before.
She frowned a little, picked up her pajamas, and headed into the bathroom. After her shower, she automatically reached into her backpack for her white pill bottle.
Empty.
She shook it, hoping, but there was nothing left. Without her herbs, she couldn’t make more. Her frown deepened as she stared at the closed door, a flicker of worry in her eyes. She hesitated, then stepped barefoot onto the plush carpet.
Dragging the small table, she wedged it in front of the door. It didn’t seem secure enough, so she stacked a few chairs on top just to be sure. She studied her makeshift barricade, satisfied only when it looked impossible to open from the inside. Finally, she climbed back into bed, pulled the covers up, and let her eyes drift shut.
Meanwhile, in the study on the other side of the house, Anthony was up late
finishing work. After his shower, he came out with just a towel slung low around his waist, showing off his toned chest. His short, dark hair was still damp, drops of water sliding down his defined abs, disappearing under the towel.
He sat down, phone in one hand, cigarette in the other.
“I never want to see those idiots in Cabinda again,” he said into the phone. He paused, flicking some ash away, his tone casual. “Break the leader’s hands.”
“Yes, sir.” Hans sounded respectful, as always. “Anthony, you should get some sleep.”
“Yeah.”
Anthony ended the call and was just reaching for a towel to dry his hair when a loud crash sounded from outside his window.
Helen’s panicked voice followed right after.
“Ms. Main!”
Charlotte?
Anthony shot to his feet, strode out onto the balcony, and looked down. There was Charlotte, dressed in a plain white nightgown, standing barefoot on the grass. Her long black hair whipped around her face in the wind, her head down so he couldn’t see her expression.
“Ms. Main, are you okay?” Helen yelled, pressing a hand to her chest as she looked up. Did Charlotte just fall from the third floor?
And she’d landed right in the yard where 98K stayed.
98K was the Alaskan Malamute
Anthony had rescued years ago. He
was huge now, all muscle and
attitude, aggressive and
unpredictable No one except
Anthony dared get close
Charlotte was a stranger, and she’d dropped straight into the dog’s territory. If 98K came out, he’d tear her apart.
A sharp growl split the quiet night. The enormous black-and-white Malamute padded out of his doghouse, mouth open, eyeing Charlotte.
The maids nearby gasped and backed away, some covering their mouths.
“Ms. Main, don’t move! Please, don’t move!” Helen begged, but Charlotte either didn’t hear her or didn’t care. She walked forward, totally calm.
“Ms. Main!” Helen’s voice shook with fear.
A deep snarl came from 98K, and then he lunged, launching himself right at Charlotte.
Screams broke out from the maids, hands flying to their faces. This was it. 98K was going to attack.
But before anyone could process what was happening, a dark blur streaked across the yard and Anthony’s voice cut through the chaos, cold and sharp.
“98K, back off!”
Instead of a violent scene, everyone saw something completely unexpected: The massive dog was wrapped up in tharlotte sarms, her hands tocked around his neck, His big head was squished, eyes wide, and for a second he looked almost silly.
“Woo 98K’s giant paws landed her shoulders, his tail wagging so hard
d his whole body wiggled. He licked her cheek clearly thrilled not dangerous at all.
The maids just stared, completely stunned.
Helen rubbed her eyes, sure she must be seeing things.