Escaping The CEO 2

Chloe Hayes dragged her suitcase through the arrivals gate at JFK, and the humid New York air hit her like a physical blow. It felt heavy, thick with memories she had spent three years trying to forget.

Chloe was able to come back this time because her father had passed away.

She scanned the crowd for a taxi, a way to escape into the city's anonymity, but two men in sharp, black suits stepped directly into her path. They moved with a quiet efficiency that was more intimidating than any overt threat.

The man in the lead was Keith Foster, Julian Sinclair's executive assistant. Chloe's stomach tightened. She recognized the polite, impenetrable mask he wore.

"Mrs. Sinclair," Keith said, his voice perfectly level, devoid of any sympathy. "Mr. Sinclair is waiting for you in the car."

Chloe's gaze flickered past them to the curb, where a black Bentley sat idling, its tinted windows like obsidian mirrors. A bitter laugh escaped her lips, sharp and brittle. "My name is Hayes. It’s not your Mrs. Sinclair. And I have nothing to say to him. Don’t you know that a good dog doesn’t get in the way?"

She tried to step around them, but the second man, broader and silent, shifted his weight, effortlessly cutting off her path. They had her boxed in.

"Mrs. Sinclair," Keith's voice dropped, a subtle warning threading through the courtesy. "You know Mr. Sinclair's temperament. Please don't make this difficult for me. An airport has many eyes, but it also has many blind spots. If a scene is made, you will be the one who suffers."

The threat was clear. She was powerless here, just as she had been three years ago. The fight drained out of her, replaced by a weary resignation. Her shoulders slumped, and she allowed them to guide her toward the Bentley.

The rear door opened, and a wave of cold, conditioned air washed over her. The interior was dark, smelling of expensive leather and something else-the clean, sharp scent of Julian's cologne. He was sitting on the far side, a silhouette against the city lights. His jaw was tight, his profile as severe as if carved from granite. He didn't even look at her as she slid onto the seat.

The door clicked shut, sealing them in an suffocating silence.

"I told you to inform me of your any itinerary arrangements," he said finally, his voice devoid of any warmth. It was the voice he used for underperforming subordinates. "I would have arranged for your security from the moment you landed. It's for your own good."

Chloe let out another cold laugh. "Your good, you mean. Afraid I'd go straight to the press and expose your sordid little affair?"

A muscle twitched in his jaw, the only sign of irritation. He reached into the seat pocket in front of him and pulled out a manila envelope, tossing it onto the seat between them. The gesture was dismissive, insulting.

"I've handled your father's arrangements. You don't need to worry about the funeral tomorrow," he stated, his eyes fixed on the window. "All you need to do is sign the divorce agreement."

Chloe stared at the envelope as if it were a snake. So that was it. That was the reason for this airport ambush. Her father had just passed away, his body not yet cold, and he was already pushing for a divorce, eager to clear the way for his mistress. The terms inside, she knew, would be generous. An insultingly large sum to buy her silence and her name.

She remembered the look of disgust in his eyes on their wedding day, a ceremony her father had forced upon him. But now she suspected the truth: her father had never forced him. Julian had wanted the marriage to get close to the Hayes fortune. It was the same coldness she felt from him now.