And because I need the support.
Because looking at her is doing things to me that are completely inappropriate given the circumstances.
“The great room is the only space with heat,” I add.
“So we’re stuck in one room together.” Her tone suggests this is somewhere between a nightmare and a cosmic joke.
“Yeah.” I don’t apologize. What’s the point? “You can freeze upstairs out of principle or you can be practical. Your choice.”
Her jaw tightens. I watch the pulse point in her throat. The way her hands grip the counter. The slight flush climbing up her neck that has nothing to do with the stove’s heat. She’s angry and beautiful and completely off limits.
Tell that to my cock.
I watch the war play across her face. Pride versus survival. Ideology versus reality.
She turns back to her snow pot without answering.
I sigh, then leave her to it and retreat to my office. One last check before the cold makes that room unusable too.
My laptop sits on the custom desk. Forty thousand dollars of furniture supporting a machine that’s currently worthless. I open it anyway. Battery at fifteen percent. The warning icon blinks in the corner like a countdown to irrelevance.
I quickly close it.
I think about Derek. My former protégé. The one who leaked those documents to the press. Not for principles. Oh no. He sold me out to acompetitorfor cash. Five years of mentorship, and he threw it away for whoever paid the highest price.
I still don’t know which rival bought him. Could be any of them. They all want to see me fall. Want my market share. My contracts. My mines.
Has it really all been for nothing?
I’ve spent thirty years building an empire. Surrounding myself with people paid to care about me. Paid to solve my problems. Paid to make me feel powerful.
And now in an actual crisis, when it actually matters...
I’m completely, utterly,alone.
Well.
Except for a broke graduate student in my kitchen.
Who has every reason to hate me.
The office is already getting colder. I can see my breath starting to mist.
Time to face reality.
I return to find her in the great room. She’s dragged her sleeping bag from upstairs and claimed a section of the sectional near the fire. Not close to the fireplace itself. That would be too accommodating. But close enough to benefit from the heat. Meanwhile the water containers have been pushed up against the wall next to the fireplace.
Her field gear is spread out nearby. Drying finally in the warmth. She’s reading the romance novel with its shirtless cover model. A small act of defiance on her part, I suppose.
When she doesn’t look up, I use the opportunity to study her.
She has her legs tucked under her on the sectional. The firelight plays across her skin, turning it golden. My hoodie has slipped off both shoulders now, and the neckline gapes enough for me to see her collarbones. I can still see the curve of her breasts where the fabric drapes...
Heat floods through me that has nothing to do with the fireplace.
“Everything okay?” My voice comes out lower than intended.
“Yep.” Her voice is flat.
