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His irritation intensified. He didn’t want her here. He didn’t want anyone here. He didn’t want to have to deal with this creature from a past he’d long since forgotten and had no interest remembering.

‘I can’t imagine why you thought driving up here in this weather was a good idea. I can’t imagine why you thought you could come here at all.’ He folded his arms, looking down at her, sitting on the couch wrapped up in a blanket and still shivering. She really did look rather bedraggled and pitiable. Still, this was a severe invasion of his privacy and he wasn’t inclined to be kind about it. He wasn’t inclined to be kind at all. Anything that had once been soft in him had been shorn away by Neve, who’d wanted a steel blade to wield. And a steel blade he’d been, a sword for her to defend herself and her empire. Their empire.

If you don’t marry, it won’t be anyone’s empire.

Fury twisted inside him again at the reminder. He ignored it, again. It was complex, that anger, and he didn’t wish to examine particularly where it came from. He was sure of one thing, though. However he felt about marrying, he’d do it for Neve. He would make sure her legacy would live on.

Liberty’s cheeks had become pinker at the sharp note in his voice. ‘I–I’m sorry,’ she said, stuttering again. ‘I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I tried to get hold of you—’

‘I’m not interested in how you tried to get hold of me,’ he interrupted. ‘Tell me why you’re here.’

She let out a breath. ‘Could you not…stand so close?’

His brows twitched. He was standing a little near to the couch, his boots almost touching hers. Intimidating people had been his role for most of his life, so it was instinctive for him to dominate any room he entered. He didn’t much care whether he intimidated this woman, either. In fact, if he did so, she’d be less likely to want to stay, so he didn’t move. ‘Tell me,’ he ordered. ‘Now.’

Something glittered briefly in her amber eyes that looked like anger, but it was gone before he could be sure. ‘I’m here to ask you for money,’ she said. ‘I now manage Worthington and our funding has been cut. I can’t get the level of donations we need to keep operating, so I’m trying to find the funds from elsewhere.’

Somehow, this didn’t surprise him. Money was the engine that drove the world and everything people did was about how to get more of it. They killed for it, lied for it, begged for it. Neve had known that all too well and had taught him the same. She’d also taught him how to make it and to use it, and that had been his unique ability. It was why she’d taken him out of that home in the first place.

So, of course money was what this woman wanted. That’s what they all wanted. ‘How much?’ he asked.

Liberty’s eyes widened, as if this was somehow unexpected, and he supposed she was right to be surprised. People generally didn’t like giving money away. He didn’t care, though. He had a lot of it and could always get more, and if it would make her go away sooner, then he’d pay. ‘Umm,’ she said and named a paltry sum that he wouldn’t even notice.

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll write you a cheque, then get a helicopter in to take you back to wherever you came from.’

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked from the room.

Chapter Two

LIBERTY SAT ON the couch, shivering in her blanket, watching Kai’s broad, powerful figure disappear through the doorway that led to the hall.

Her ankle hurt, and disappointment sat like a lead weight in her stomach, and she couldn’t figure out why. She should be happy. He’d agreed to donate money without even a blink—she hadn’t even had to argue for it—and he was now going to write her a cheque, which was why she’d made the journey here in the first place.

Yet despite that, she was disappointed. Probably because he hadn’t recognized her, which was silly because she’d expected it. Then again, when she’d hammered on the windows and he’d signalled to her to wait, she’d felt a surge of anticipation as she’d heard the front door open, that hope inside her wanting to prove her wrong. She’d gone too quickly down the stairs on numb feet, excited to see him and then had fallen ignominiously into the snow, injuring her ankle in the process.

He’d eventually come outside, tall and powerful, and before she’d had a chance to protest, he’d picked her up and carried her inside. Her experience of men was limited—she’d never even been held by one let alone carried—and for long moments she’d simply lain in his arms, stunned by the heat of his body. Then he’d put her down on the couch, wrapped her in a blanket and stared down at her like God himself, staring with disapproval at a repentant sinner.

That anticipation and excitement inside her had died then, because there had been no recognition in his dark grey eyes, only snow and sleet and ice. It had made her feel colder just looking at him.

Letting out a breath, she wrapped the blanket tighter around her, conscious of her wet clothing and the pain throbbing in her ankle as she looked around the room.

The living area was huge, with soaring ceilings that perfectly framed the massive windows making up one wall. During the day there must be magnificent views out over the fjord and the mountains beyond, and even now she could see the stars twinkling in the black sky.

Despite all that glass, the room was warm, the bright fire she’d seen from out in the snow leaping and crackling in a big stone fireplace and putting out lots of heat. Before it, covering the polished wood floor, was a big thick rug of pale charcoal grey, the same colour as the plush fabric of the modular couch arrangement she was sitting on.

The area was sparsely decorated, the wooden walls bare of any pictures or art, except for a photo of a woman above the fireplace and a beautiful, stark chandelier that looked to be made of deer antlers hanging from the ceiling. Small side tables dotted the room, a large wooden coffee table on the rug before the fire, but the only other furniture was a long, low console cabinet that housed a very expensive music system.

It was all very Scandinavian, minimalistic and quietly luxurious, though bare and without much personality. Libby would have tossed a few bright cushions about, some personal photos and a few little knickknacks and some clutter to make it more homey.

She pulled a face at the damp spot she was leaving on the couch and tried to find some silver linings in the situation. He had admitted that he remembered her, albeit not very clearly, and he was going to write her a cheque. Also, he was getting a helicopter to take her away, so she didn’t have to trek back to her car at least. That was something, wasn’t it?

Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about how different this man was to the boy she’d once known. A warm, affectionate boy, whom she’d been drawn to like a moth to a flame. That’s what she remembered at least.

She’d come to Worthington after that last foster family had returned her for reasons she’d never been clear on or remembered, but what she did remember was that when she’d arrived, a kind boy with white hair had taken her under his wing, along with all the other younger kids in the home. He’d been their protector, and she hadn’t been the only one upset when he’d been adopted.

Kaius Frost, though, wasn’t that boy any longer it seemed. He was harder, colder, as if the boy he’d once been had frozen to death inside him. That thought hurt, though she knew it shouldn’t. She’d always been told that she empathised too much with people, letting their hurt become hers in a way that wasn’t healthy. Especially given that she ran a home for children from all different kinds of backgrounds, most of them deeply traumatic ones. Then again, her empathy was what made her good at her job, even though it was hugely stressful at times. It was why she was even here in the first place.

Her teeth were starting to chatter despite the warmth of the fire when Kai strode back in again. His expression was unreadable, though she was sure she saw annoyance in his cold gaze. ‘It seems that storm is settling in for the night, so I’m not going to be able to get you a helicopter.’