Page 18 of Pucking Snowed In with the Enemy

A limo pulled into the parking lot and stopped at the entrance. The guard, who couldn’t be bothered giving me the time of day, ran for the back door and opened it. I assumed this would be Nathan, but instead, a man who looked to be in his fifties or sixties got out. I knew who he was immediately. Mr. Demetri Mikhailov, the man I thought I was meeting earlier when it turned out to be Nathan.

He glanced my way, and I could see the family resemblance immediately. How I didn’t recognize it earlier could only be blamed on the alcohol. They were so similar. A woman far too young to be Nathan’s mother got out and hooked her arm into his before they walked inside the building, and the car pulled away.

I glanced at my phone. Nathan was fifteen minutes late. Was he standing me up? The roar of a sports car zooming into the driveway was next. The shiny black paint job reflected like glass even in the poor light. I loved cars, and the Aston Martin DBII was one of my favorites. I was too busy drooling over the ride to notice Nathan get out of the driver’s side until he opened the passenger door. An elegant brunette got out and smiled up at him.

Jealousy filled me, and I was on my feet with an all-consuming rage. I wasn’t expecting these emotions and immediately looked down and counted to five to get control before daring to look up at Nathan again.

His dark and intense eyes bore holes into my soul, and my heart pounded harder. I wasn’t letting this weird reaction hold me back from why I was really here, and that was to get answers.

I walked toward him and his date or girlfriend. Hell, it could be his wife for all I knew. Great, I potentially slept with a married man. My life was one big ass train wreck.

“Savannah, I see you made it,” Nathan said, and it was easy to detect the hint of disappointment.

“I was on time, unlike you,” I said, holding my chin high. “Maybe you need a new watch to go with your fancy car.”

“Who is this,” the brunette asked as she looked me up and down. I didn’t play that game and stared back at her, keeping my face passive and uncaring.

“Olivia, this is Savannah. She’ll be interviewing me this evening,” Nathan said, and Olivia’s eyes went wide.

“Does that mean I’m going to be in a magazine? Oh, how exciting.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “I better go freshen up. Are we doing it inside or out?” She squealed and my head throbbed.

“I planned on doing you in both places, but the interview will be inside,” Nathan said, and I wanted to vomit all over again.

Olivia continued to squeal excitedly and pulled out her phone. “I need to make a quick call, be right back Babes.” She winked and I rolled my eyes.

I turned to stare at Nathan.

“So, you aren’t telling her it’s not for a magazine?”

He smiled. “This is more entertaining.”

“I’m sure it is,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Why I was angry for her when she clearly hated me on status alone was beyond my comprehension, but it seemed everything he did rubbed me the wrong way. Or maybe the right way and, therefore, the wrong way. That was a conversation for my therapist.

Nathan took a step in my direction, and every inch closer he came correlated to the temperature in my body. “See, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous again. But you wouldn’t be jealous, right? You don’t get jealous. You’re an FBI agent trained to be unaffected, unemotional, and cold as ice.”

Whether he intended it to hurt or not, the last part about ice did. Shawn said that when I spoke to him about getting his shit out of the house. He said I was cold and uncaring, and he didn’t know why he proposed. I knew I shouldn’t let him or his words get to me, but they continued to float around in my brain.

“I’m not playing this game again with you,” I said.

“So, what you’re saying is that you don’t mind that I brought a date?” He looked way too good and smelled fucking fabulous. The suit he wore reminded me of exactly how he looked under it and how he kissed me earlier.

What I wanted to say was, Yes, it is a fucking problem that she is here, but I couldn’t say that. Even if I did admit that I was attracted to Nathan, he lived in a world that I couldn’t. If he was a bird, then I was a fish that lived in the ocean.

“No, why would I care? Are we going inside, or should I start asking right here?”

Nathan straightened and sucked in a deep breath, and just like that, he managed to look taller and more intimidating. “We’ll go inside and get started. I have another meeting tonight.”

“Is it with your father?” Nathan’s brow rose a moment before he glared at me. It felt good to know something he didn’t for a change.

“How do you know that,” he asked, his hands flexing. I licked my lips and tried to get my brain back on track before it squirreled off to dream of incredible sex and leather belts in his hand. I looked toward the front of the club as I forced myself to dismiss the magnetic pull between us.

“He already arrived. A few minutes before you did,” I said as we waited for Olivia to finish her call.

I dared to look up at him. His jaw was twitching, and the change in his attitude was palpable. There was tension in the Mikhailov family, but the question was why.

“My father is here. Was he alone?”

That seemed like an odd question, but I answered because it didn’t affect me. “No, he had a girl with him. She barely looked legal.”