Chapter 2

An Unforgettable Plate Number

The rain had finally stopped.

But the damage remained.

Meera stood in silence, staring at the muddy mess that had been her taco stand only minutes ago. Shredded lettuce clung to the wet pavement. Tomatoes floated in small puddles. The carefully prepared meat she had spent hours seasoning was ruined.

Her shoulders slumped.

"There goes today's profit," she whispered.

Grandma Rosa slowly picked up a fallen container and sighed.

"It's only food, sweetheart."

"It wasn't just food."

Meera's voice cracked.

"It was rent... groceries... your medicine."

Without another word, she grabbed a broom and began sweeping the muddy water away.

Rosa watched her quietly.

For as long as she'd known Meera, the young woman had refused to let hardship defeat her. She cried only when no one was looking, then woke the next morning ready to fight again.

A familiar customer approached.

"Oh no... what happened?"

"A careless driver," Meera replied.

"He didn't stop?"

She shook her head.

"Not even for a second."

The customer looked at the ruined stand before placing a fifty-dollar bill on the counter.

"I don't need tacos today."

Meera immediately picked it up and tried handing it back.

"I can't accept this."

"You can."

"No."

"I insist."

Before she could argue again, the man smiled at Rosa and walked away.

More customers stopped by.

Some offered words of encouragement.

Others donated a few dollars.

By evening, the tip jar held far more money than usual.

Meera smiled faintly.

"People are kinder than they realize."

"They're kind because you've always been kind to them," Rosa replied.

Meera looked down at the folded piece of paper in her pocket.

Written on it...

One license plate.

She had rewritten it three times, afraid she'd forget a single number.

"I'll find him," she murmured.

"And then?"

"I'm going to tell him exactly what I think."

Rosa laughed.

"Only tell him?"

Meera grinned.

"Maybe yell a little."

...

Across the city, Grant Gonas stepped into the private house he had rented for the week.

It was modern, quiet, and overlooked the ocean.

Perfect.

His phone rang before he had time to remove his jacket.

"Talk."

Damien's voice came through the speaker.

"The meeting has been moved to tomorrow morning."

"I know."

"Our men have confirmed Romano soldiers are in the city."

"They're watching the port."

"Probably."

Grant walked toward the balcony.

"Anything else?"

A brief pause.

"There was an incident."

"What kind?"

"One of the rental vehicles passed through a flooded street."

Grant frowned.

"So?"

"It splashed a food stand."

Grant closed his eyes for a moment.

"I was driving."

"I figured."

"You had people following me?"

"For your protection."

Grant sighed.

"Was anyone hurt?"

"No."

"Property damage?"

"The stall was ruined."

Grant looked toward the darkening sky.

For the first time that day...

Something resembling guilt settled in his chest.

"I'll compensate them."

"You don't even know who they are."

"Find out."

Damien chuckled softly.

"Since when do you care about street vendors?"

"I don't."

"Then why?"

Grant's answer was simple.

"It was my mistake."

After ending the call, he poured himself a glass of water and stared out at the ocean.

For reasons he couldn't explain, the image of a drenched taco stand lingered in his mind.

He had built billion-dollar companies.

Negotiated with presidents.

Faced rival crime families without flinching.

Yet one careless moment kept replaying in his thoughts.

He didn't like unfinished business.

Tomorrow, he'd make it right.

He had no idea that the woman he intended to compensate had already memorized his license plate—and was hoping with every fiber of her being that fate would give her another chance to meet him.

When it did...

Neither of them would walk away unchanged.

The morning sun peeked through the clouds, drying the streets that had been soaked by yesterday's rain.

Meera tightened the strings of her apron and forced a smile.

"Today's going to be better," she said, more to herself than anyone else.

Grandma Rosa glanced at her over the grill.

"It has to be."

Together, they rebuilt the taco stand. Fresh vegetables replaced the ruined ones. The grill sizzled with seasoned beef, filling the air with an irresistible aroma.

Business slowly returned.

For a while, yesterday felt like a bad dream.

Until a familiar black SUV rolled to a stop across the street.

Meera's smile disappeared.

Her eyes narrowed.

"No..."

She stepped away from the grill, wiping her hands on her apron.

The license plate.

It was the same one.

She'd memorized every letter.

Every number.

Her heartbeat quickened.

"So you finally came back."

The driver's door opened.

A tall man stepped out.

He wore a plain black T-shirt beneath a charcoal jacket, dark jeans, and simple sneakers. No expensive watch. No flashy jewelry. Nothing about him suggested wealth.

But there was something about the way he carried himself.

Calm.

Controlled.

Confident.

As though the world moved because he allowed it to.

Grant Gonas shut the car door and looked across the street.

There it was.

The taco stand.

And standing in front of it...

The woman whose livelihood he'd destroyed.

She was beautiful.

Not in the polished way the women who attended his galas were.

Her beauty was effortless.

Loose strands of dark hair framed a determined face. Her amber-brown eyes burned with a fire he hadn't expected.

She wasn't afraid.

Interesting.

Grant crossed the street with an envelope in one hand.

He had rehearsed exactly what he intended to say.

"I'm here to compensate—"

"You!"

Meera marched straight toward him.

Customers turned to watch.

Grandma Rosa sighed quietly.

"Oh dear..."

"You couldn't even stop yesterday!" Meera snapped.

"You ruined everything and drove away like it meant nothing!"

Grant remained silent.

"I had customers waiting!"

"You know how long it takes to prepare all that food?"

Still, he said nothing.

"You could've at least apologized!"

Grant let her finish.

Only when she paused to catch her breath did he speak.

"You're right."

The words caught her off guard.

"I should have stopped."

She blinked.

Grant extended the envelope.

"This should cover yesterday's losses."

Meera looked at it.

Then back at him.

"What is it?"

"Compensation."

She folded her arms.

"You think money solves everything?"

"No."

"Then keep it."

Grant had negotiated billion-dollar contracts.

He'd convinced hardened investors to trust him with fortunes.

He'd stared down men twice his age without breaking eye contact.

Yet no one had ever rejected his money before.

"It was my mistake," he said.

"I'm taking responsibility."

"You think responsibility comes in an envelope?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of Grant's mouth.

For the first time in years...

Someone was speaking to him as though he were just another man.

Not a billionaire.

Not the head of an empire.

Just a stranger who had made a mistake.

"I deserve that," he admitted.

Meera frowned.

She had expected excuses.

Arrogance.

Maybe even insults.

Not this.

Behind a parked van, two men watched the exchange through dark sunglasses.

One lifted a hand toward the earpiece hidden beneath his collar.

"Boss is taking longer than expected."

"Stand down," another voice answered.

"Mr. Gonas gave strict orders. No interference unless his life is in danger."

Back at the stand, Grandma Rosa approached with two paper cups.

"You've both been standing in the sun arguing."

She smiled warmly.

"At least have some water."

Meera groaned.

"Grandma..."

"What?"

"He owes us an apology."

"I've already apologized," Grant said.

"And I'm apologizing again."

Grandma Rosa studied him carefully.

His clothes were ordinary.

His manners were respectful.

His eyes...

Those eyes carried a heaviness she'd only ever seen in people who had spent years carrying burdens alone.

She accepted the envelope before Meera could protest again.

"We'll use this to replace what was lost."

"Grandma!"

"We can still be grateful without forgetting what happened."

Grant inclined his head.

"Thank you."

As he turned to leave, Rosa called after him.

"Young man."

He stopped.

"My granddaughter's tacos are the best in San Diego."

A faint glimmer of amusement crossed his face.

"So I've heard."

"You haven't tasted them."

Grant looked at Meera.

She looked away first.

"I'll come back another day."

Meera muttered under her breath.

"Don't do us any favors."

Grant heard it.

Instead of being offended...

He smiled.

A genuine one.

Small.

Brief.

Gone before anyone else noticed.

As he drove away, Damien's voice crackled through the hidden earpiece.

"Everything settled?"

Grant glanced in the rear-view mirror, watching the taco stand grow smaller.

"Not even close."

For reasons he couldn't explain, he had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time he saw Meera Andrews.

And for the first time in a very long time...

The Frozen Beast found himself looking forward to tomorrow.