Page 2

TW O

Merritt stared out the window of her dad’s office at the expanse of ice-capped blue ocean that stretched farther than she could even imagine. Any other time she’d probably find the view beautiful. Now the stark, lifelessness magnified her despair.

Barrow, Alaska.

More like barren. Empty. Just like her heart.

Her dad was gone.

Dead.

And his last disjointed voicemail left her doubting the timing of his death was a coincidence. She closed her eyes, hugging herself tighter as grief, fear, and disbelief swamped her. His last words hadn’t stopped replaying since she first listened to the message three weeks before.

“Merri, don’t trust anyone.”

She’d woken up with the notification on her phone. Her desert-heated skin chilling at her dad’s troubled voice that cut in and out. Now, here she was at the top of the world, freezing and floundering.

She wasn’t cut out for this. Why couldn’t she stay at the refugee camp helping those poor, orphaned children? Why’d her family drama have to yank her from the work she loved again?

Wow.

Selfish much?

Tears stung her eyes, and she sucked in a harsh breath. Her dad’s possible murder was not drama.

She turned from the partially frozen ocean and sat at her dad’s desk. His warm scent of leather and cinnamon candies enveloped her, making sorrow overwhelm her again. She shook her head and pushed the tears away.

She’d keep them at bay, just like she did at the refugee camps and orphanages she traveled to. She could wait to fall apart where she could smother her heartbreak in her pillow.

With mechanical precision, she filtered through the paperwork on the desk. Handwritten notes of drilling procedures, names, and government divisions mingled with invoices, board meeting notes, and environmental reports.

She had no clue what any of it meant, but she scanned each piece of paper, praying a clue would jump out at her.

As she set the last paper on top of the pile of items she’d already gone through, bright red flashed in the doorway. She jerked her eyes up, pushing back in her chair with a jolt. Her heart threatened to pound out of her chest.

Joni, her stepmother, leaned against the doorframe. Her arms crossed over her slinky red top better suited for the Caribbean than the Arctic, even if it was summer. Her long, manicured fingernail tapped rhythmically against her fake-tanned skin.

The small lift of the corner of her glossy lips was the only indication she delighted in startling Merritt. Other than that, Joni’s face held its usual dismissive expression when it came to her stepdaughter.

“So, the Precious One decided to grace us with her presence.” Joni arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow over her ice-blue eye. “What? No more babies to rock or world to save?”

Merritt’s mouth dropped open as her stomach clenched.

How dare she?

Did Joni have such little regard for Merritt that she’d slap her with her normal complaint? Did she really love Merritt’s dad so little that she couldn’t even say one word of comfort?

“Dad’s will didn’t leave any other choice.” Merritt crossed her own arms and watched Joni closely.

Joni’s body tensed and her lips pinched, but only for a second. If Merritt hadn’t been paying attention, she’d have missed it. Her stepmother’s eyes blinked, then she pushed off from the doorframe.

“Quite the surprise there.” Joni stalked into the room, lifting the stone heart paperweight Merritt had given her dad years ago and tumbling it in her fingers. “Clay—controlling and manipulative, even from behind the pearly gates.”

She slammed the paperweight back in place, and Merritt flinched.

“Well, more likely the fiery pits, but who am I to judge?” Joni shrugged nonchalantly.

Merritt clenched her teeth to keep the sharp retort in.

The hateful woman slipped into the chair across from Merritt with an inhale through her nose, her cue she was calming herself down. Merritt had seen her do that often when she lived at home. Joni and her father arguing about something, usually money, and Joni sucking in air like she was counting to ten.

Did she know it made her nostrils constrict in a very unattractive way?

Probably not. Otherwise, she’d curb the habit just like she cultivated the rest of her image with exact precision. Merritt hated who her stepmother had become.

“So, why’d Clay do it?” Joni’s eyes bored into Merritt. “Why’d he up and change his will to leave everything to you? Even Nolan hadn’t known.”

Merritt stifled her cringe, the guilt of her dad leaving even his brother out of the will skimming along her skin. The will was clean and simple. She got everything.

When her dad did something, he went all the way or not at all. She was just thankful Nolan wasn’t spiteful, unlike Joni.

Merritt shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” Joni sneered. “You two and your precious messages back and forth. There’s no way he didn’t tell you. ”

“No. He didn’t.” Not exactly. “I’m just as surprised as you.”

“Doubt it.”

“It’s true.”

“You don’t deserve to head this company.” Joni’s fingers dug into the chair’s arms. “You’re clueless. An idiot do-gooder with your head in la-la land.

“Did you spend the last fifteen years learning everything there is to know about drilling and government regulations and land contracts and oil production and then have to do it all over again when your dad decided graphite was the new oil? No.”

Joni’s glacial tone and flushed neck had all of Merritt’s muscles tight.

“That was me.” Joni cursed. “I’m the one who put up with Clay, bending to every demand and jumping through his stupid hoops while you were off gallivanting the world without a care about anything or anyone else. All because ‘Oh, Daddy. We just have to take care of the needy people of the world.’”

Joni’s mocking falsetto and hatred for Merritt’s dad snapped something in Merritt. The cold distance she’d used as a shield in her teens against a stepmother who didn’t want her and a stepsister who loved to terrorize her slid into place.

Merritt leaned back in the chair, crossed her arms over her chest, and cocked her head to the side. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed, Jo.”

Joni’s eyes narrowed to slits at the use of the nickname she couldn’t stand. Merritt stifled her smile before continuing.

“I guess you didn’t understand the part of the prenup that said you wouldn’t get Dad’s business or anything that came from it.”

Merritt tsked and gave Joni a pitying look. “Maybe you should’ve thought about what that meant instead of just focusing on getting the ring and lifestyle you were chasing.”

“Why you?—”

“If you had, you’d realize that meant you weren’t entitled to anything but what Dad left you. No matter how much you think you deserve more.” Merritt unwrapped her arms and sat forward.

“Now the question is if I should keep you on as the press manager or not? I’d hate for you to lose that inflated salary you’re earning, but I’m just not sure you have the company’s best interests at heart.”

Joni shot to her feet and slammed both hands on the desk. “You don’t want me as your enemy.”

“Oh?” Merritt played up the forced confusion. “I thought that was the role you set years ago?”

Joni stared Merritt down, her jaw clenched so tight her veins popped out in her forehead. Merritt didn’t want Joni around. In fact, if she never saw the woman’s over-botoxed face again, Merritt would be thrilled. But she couldn’t keep an eye on her if the witch left.

Merritt sighed and sat back in the chair. “Listen, Joni. Neither of us expected this, and we can’t change it.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Why don’t we call a truce?” Merritt ignored Joni’s words, but she tucked the threat in the back of her mind. “We both want what’s best for the business. Until we can figure things out, let’s agree to not be at each other’s throats, shall we?”

Joni straightened slowly, her arms dropping to her sides. She picked up the tap-tap-tap against her leg she’d had when she leaned against the doorway. She was calculating, considering all the angles. Merritt could practically see the evil plots lining up in Joni’s head.

Finally, Joni forced a sunny smile that sent a shiver down Merritt’s spine.

“What a perfect way to honor your dear father. The wife he chose and the disappointment he was stuck with hashing out his legacy together.” Joni turned and sashayed out of the room. “It’ll be delightful.”

Merritt closed her eyes and listened to stilettos clicking away on the hardwood floor. She wanted to throw everything off the desk and rail. Wanted to cry out to her dad and ask him why he left her with such a horrible mess.

Instead, she took a breath and reached for her old facade she’d abandoned when she’d taken over the philanthropy part of her dad’s legacy. With her next breath she pulled on the frigid, distant woman she’d made herself into when life in her dad’s house had turned into a soap opera.

She shivered as that part of herself settled on her shoulders and almost yanked it off.

But she couldn’t.

The hard, unapproachable person she used to be was the only way she could survive this mess without cracking. The only way she could get to the bottom of her dad’s death .

And when she was done and had answers, she could go back to the real her. The woman she’d found in the refugee camps filled with joyful kids with distended bellies.

As long as she didn’t freeze solid this time.