"Ma'am. Can you hear me?"
His voice broke through the haze in her mind. Jackie blinked, her vision sharpening as she focused on the man in front of her. Up close, he was even more striking. Those piercing blue eyes scanning her face with an intensity that made her stomach tighten. She rolled down the window.
"I…" she swallowed, trying to steady herself. "I think so."
"Did you hit your head?" he asked, crouching slightly to meet her eye level.
The concern in his voice caught her off guard. For a moment, she simply stared at him. Then she shook her head quickly. "No. No, I don't think so."
"You're in shock," he said firmly. "Come on, let's get you out of the car."
Before she could protest, he opened the door and offered his hand. She hesitated. Something about him felt, commanding. Like he was used to people listening to him. Still, her body betrayed her. She took his hand. The moment their skin touched, warmth spread through her fingers, up her arm, and settled somewhere deep in her chest. It startled her. He helped her out gently, steadying her as her legs wobbled.
"Careful," he murmured.
She leaned into him instinctively, her shoulder brushing against his chest. He was solid. Warm. Real. For a second, she let herself rest there. After everything that had happened that morning, the loss, the anger, the emptiness, that small moment of support felt like relief. His hand came up, brushing lightly against her cheek. Her breath caught. And without thinking or understanding why, she leaned into his touch. It felt safe. Then suddenly, he pulled his hand away abruptly. Like he'd just realized what he was doing.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "You have blood on your cheek."
The words hit harder than they should have. Jackie blinked, the warmth instantly replaced by something colder. Embarrassment. Rejection.
"Oh," she said stiffly, stepping back from him. "I'm fine."
She wiped at her cheek, seeing the faint smear of blood on her fingers. He reached out again, clearly intending to help. She flinched away.
"I said I'm fine," she snapped.
His hand froze mid-air before dropping slowly to the side. Something flickered in his eyes. Annoyance, maybe.
"Look, you looked unsteady," he said. "I was just trying to help."
"Well, don't," she shot back. "I don't need your help."
The words came out sharper than she intended, but she didn't take them back. She couldn't. Not when everything in her life felt like it was falling apart. When the last person who was supposed to help her, her father, had just destroyed everything she'd built. The man straightened, his expression hardening.
"Fine," he said coolly. "Then let's get to it."
Her brows furrowed. "Get to what?"
"You hit my car," he said, gesturing behind him.
Jackie turned and her stomach dropped. A sleek, black Mercedes Benz. Expensive. Immaculate. Except for the very visible damage along the driver's side.
"Oh…" she breathed. This is bad. Very bad. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay composed.
"Well… you could have swerved," she said quickly. His head tilted slightly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me," she said, crossing her arms. "If you were paying attention, you could have avoided it."
His eyes darkened.
"I was in my lane," he said slowly. "You were not."
"That's your opinion."
"That's a fact."
"Debatable."
He let out a short, incredulous laugh.
"You're unbelievable."
"And you're dramatic," she shot back.
"Dramatic?" he repeated. "You crashed into my car."
"And you're acting like the world ended."
"For some people," he said pointedly, "actions have consequences."
The implication stung. Her jaw tightened.
"Oh please," she scoffed. "You clearly have money. Fix it yourself."
Something in his expression shifted again this time colder.
"That's not the point."
"It is to me," she snapped. "I'm not paying for anything."
A murmur rose around them. Jackie turned slightly and realized that people had gathered. Watching and filming. Her stomach twisted. Of course this would happen today. The man noticed too. His jaw clenched as his gaze swept over the small crowd. Then, without another word he turned away.
"Fine," he said curtly. "I'll handle it myself."
Jackie blinked. That was it? No argument? No threat? He walked toward his car, his movements controlled but tense. Something about the way he carried himself, the authority, the restraint, made her hesitate. She almost called out to him. Almost. But her pride won and she stayed silent. He got into his car, started the engine, and drove off without looking back. Leaving her standing there. In the aftermath of yet another disaster. Jackie exhaled slowly, her shoulders slumping.
"What a day…" she muttered. Her chest still felt tight. But not just from stress. From him. From the way he looked at her and he touched her. From the way he walked away. She shook her head sharply.
No," she whispered to herself. "Not important."
She had bigger problems. Much bigger.
Across town, Daniel Lombard gripped the steering wheel as he drove. Jaw tight…thoughts scattered.
"She's insane," he muttered.
But the words lacked conviction. Because what lingered in his mind wasn't the argument. It was her. The fire in her eyes. The way she stood her ground even when she was clearly in the wrong. The way she leaned into him. He exhaled sharply.
"Focus," he said under his breath.
He tapped his screen, initiating a call.
"Sandy."
"Mr. Lombard," his assistant answered immediately. "Are you alright? I saw the alert about-"
"I'm fine," he cut in. "Minor accident."
"Thank goodness. What do you need?"
"There were people filming," he said. "An argument."
A pause. Then, "I understand," Sandy said. "You want it contained."
"Immediately."
"I'll handle it."
"That's why I keep you around."
A faint laugh came through the line. "Flattery noted. I'll call you once it's done."
He ended the call. But instead of feeling relief, his mind drifted back to her. He frowned slightly.
"Why do I feel like this isn't over?" he murmured.
And somewhere, deep down he already knew. It wasn't.