The dossier he’d been provided at the start of his trip hadn’t mentioned the incredible loyalty she commanded from the people she worked closely with. He shook his head. Solveig Security had really fallen down on the job there.
While he didn’t remember the file verbatim, Aleks was sure there had been no mention of the staff here in the building. True loyalty like that developed over time. Surely a woman called the Ice Queen wouldn’t inspire such loyalty if she were truly as cold, as heartless, as the name indicated. What else had they missed?
The elevator arrived at the top floor smoothly and soundlessly. He still couldn’t believe that Portia had invited him over, but he was glad she had. He wanted to make sure she was okay.
Her door opened and she stepped out with a smile. “Hi.” Her voice was low, throaty. Like the night before, she wore comfortable clothes. Tonight’s outfit consisted of body-hugging black leggings and an oversized shirt that hung off one shoulder. Smooth skin and her bare collarbone were visible in the gap.
Her hair flowed loosely over her shoulders. It was the first time he’d seen it all the way down since their first night together. It had been so soft against his fingers. Against his skin.
His blood heated.
“C’mon in.” She held the door open for him then closed it behind him.
He turned to face her. “I’m glad you invited me.” He brushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
Yep, it was as soft as he remembered.
He gazed into her eyes. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. Really.” She placed her hand on his forearm and leaned closer. Her gaze never left his. “Glad you’re here, though. Tonight was... a lot.” She shook her head. “That show your boss put on? I’ll give her one thing, she really knows how to make a scene.”
He huffed out a laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.”
Portia led him into the living room. “Have a seat.” She released his hand and gestured to the couch. “Can I get you anything?” She bit her lower lip as she studied him.
“Not a thing.” He sat at one end of the couch. “Join me?”
After a slight hesitation, she perched daintily on the edge of the couch. He could reach out and touch her, but he really wanted her to come to him.
Had he misread her invitation? Had he glitched again? His thoughts had been fully focused on her—maybe he was seeing what he wanted to, not what was actually going on.
His hands clenched in frustration. With his stupid, malfunctioning implant, it could go either way. He hated it.
He stood abruptly. “I should go.”
Portia stood with him. “Oh, why? Is it another headache? You can lie down in the other room if that will help.” She reached up to touch his temple.
He flinched from her touch when all he wanted to do was lean into it.
She drew her hand back with a jerk. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just wanted to help.” The lost expression on her face tore at his heart.
What if he was misreading his misreading?
“Portia, why did you invite me here?”
She looked away.
He forced himself to ask for clarification. The vulnerability made his stomach crawl into his throat, but he soldiered on. Either he ripped his heart open for her or her pain would do it for him. “I thought you wanted to... spend time with me. But now I’m not sure. Did I read the situation wrong?”
“Oh,” she said. Then stopped.
What did that mean?
“Yes. I wanted to spend time with you. I wanted to see how you were doing because they’re so awful to you.” She looked down, then up again. “But... it’s hard, you know? It seems so fast. And we’re on different sides. Like Romeo and Juliet.”
The dead teenagers? No, they had nothing in common with those two. “The only side I’m on is yours.”
She stared up at him, her blue eyes wide. “What?”
