The Waldorf Lennox had a way of making people feel like they had arrived somewhere that mattered. That was the point

In the private management office on the hotel's third floor, the air was thick with the scent of leather polish and panic.

Hotel General Manager Arthur Pendelton paced behind his mahogany desk, wiping sweat from his forehead with a monogrammed handkerchief. Sitting in a leather armchair across from him was Franklin Hail—Ricket’s father—a man whose cold gray eyes and posture suggested he owned the air everyone else was breathing. Ricket stood behind his father, holding an ice pack to his wrist, glaring at Gabriel like a wounded dog.

Gabriel stood near the door, wearing his plain white shirt, his charcoal jacket still draped around Camille down in the VIP lounge.

"Do you have any idea what you've done, Gabriel?" Pendelton squeaked, slamming his palm on the desk. "Mr. Hail is our largest corporate account! You physically laid hands on his son in front of five hundred high-profile guests!"

"He assaulted a guest, Arthur," Gabriel replied, his voice level and immovable. "He tore her clothing and put his hands on her wrist. I neutralized the threat and separated them."

"He's a maintenance worker!" Ricket shouted, stepping forward. "He's a nobody! He twisted my wrist! I'm going to sue this hotel into the ground if he isn't handed over to the police!"

Franklin Hail raised a single hand, and Ricket immediately shut his mouth. The older billionaire looked at Gabriel, examining him with the quiet calculation of a predator.

"You're former military," Franklin stated, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.

"Yes, sir," Gabriel said.

"Which branch?"

"Navy."

"SEALs?" Franklin asked, picking up on the posture and the efficient restraint Gabriel had displayed on the security footage.

"BUD/S Class 224. Team 3," Gabriel answered without pride or hesitation.

Franklin leaned back, tapping his fingers together. "You're a decorated man working as a hotel fix-it guy. That tells me you need this job, Mr. Vance. It tells me you have bills to pay, probably a family to support."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed slightly, the first sign of tension entering his jaw. "My family is my business."

"It's my business now," Franklin countered coldly. "Here is how this works. You will sign a statement declaring that my son was intoxicated, that you misread the situation, and that you used excessive force. You will issue a public apology to Ricket. In exchange, I won't have Pendelton fire you, and I won't press charges."

Gabriel looked at Franklin Hail, then at Ricket, and finally at Pendelton, who was nodding pleadingly.

"No," Gabriel said.

Pendelton gasped. "Gabriel, think about your daughter! You're a single father! You need this health insurance!"

Gabriel reached up to his lapel, unclipped his hotel facilities badge, and set it down quietly on Pendelton's desk.

"I won't lie for your son," Gabriel said softly. "And I won't let him pretend he's a man at the expense of a woman's dignity. You can keep the job, Arthur."

Without waiting for a response, Gabriel turned, opened the office door, and walked out into the corridor.