Daniel didn't look at Claire. His focus remained entirely on Hannah. He could feel the fine tremors wracking her body beneath his suit jacket. His hand rested firmly under her elbow, guiding her weight as her knees threatened to give out completely.
“Can you walk?” Daniel asked Hannah, his voice dangerously gentle compared to the ice that usually coated his speech.
Hannah nodded quickly, terrified of the scene expanding further. She swallowed the lump of humiliation in her throat and looked down at the marble floor, avoiding the staring eyes of Providence’s elite—the judges, the shipping tycoons, the corrupt politicians who all answered to the man standing beside her. “Yes, Mr. Carver. Please… I can go back to the kitchen.”
“You are not going to the kitchen,” Daniel said. He turned his head slightly, his sharp grey eyes cutting through the crowd until they landed on his head of security, a towering man named Silas who stood near the double doors. “Silas. Escort Hannah to my private study. Call Dr. Harrison. Tell him if he isn't at this estate in fifteen minutes, I will buy his hospital and fire him.”