Page 30 of Ice Cold Christmas

A hesitation. A flicker of her lashes. Then, “Of course. Where else would he have been?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Outside. Shooting a fucking gun.”

“He wasn’t. He has no reason to shoot his stepsister!”

His laughter was bitter. “Sure, he does. He has about a few million reasons to kill her.” He hurried down the hallway.

Olivia scrambled after him. “Oh, really?” Loud. Too loud. “And what is your reason to want her back? To keep her alive? I figure you must stand to inherit plenty, too, if Melody stays dead.”

She’s not dead.

“So what’s your reason to want her alive so badly?”

Oh, just the most basic reason…

I fucking love her.

His secret.

His dirty little secret.

Melody belongs to me. And no one will take her away again.

Chapter Eight

“The roads are impassable.”

Hardly the news that Melody wanted to hear.

“The snowstorm hit much harder than anyone expected,” Hatterson continued blithely as he puttered around the kitchen table. “The storm’s force caught everyone by surprise. But, hopefully, now that the snowfall has finally stopped, the plows can get on the roads, and the guests may be able to leave by nightfall.”

Nightfall was a very, very long time off.

“Here.” Hatterson put a plate of pancakes in front of her. “Made your favorite for you. Blueberry pancakes. Syrup is on the side.”

She stared down at the light, fluffy pancakes. Apparently, Hatterson truly was a jack of all trades. She’d thought he was Sebastian Mage’s butler and guard, but the man certainly seemed skilled in the kitchen, too.

She hadn’t gone back to sleep after the shooting. And the mad dash after Victor in the snow. She’d been chilled to the bone, and two very hot showers had finally resulted in her feeling semi-normal again. If she’d been that cold, how had Victor felt? He’d been out in the snow far longer than she had.

He’d checked and double-checked the house. Searched all the rooms. Made sure the windows were covered. The doors locked. The man had been shot—grazed—and he hadn’t seemed to care about his injury.

He’d been pissed, though. She’d definitely picked up on that rage.

The others had eventually gone back to bed. Olivia and Dario were still sleeping. Melody didn’t know where Sebastian was. My father. She just had such a hard time thinking of him that way. The people in the house were utter strangers to her.

She’d hoped that, once she crossed the threshold of the home, more memories would come to her.

That hadn’t happened. Not yet.

“The pancakes are going to get cold,” Hatterson muttered. He pulled up a chair beside her. “They are your favorite.”

He’d said that before.

She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but eating was the last thing she felt like doing. If Victor was right and the shots had been meant for her, then someone had tried to kill her…her first night home. “I don’t think I have much of an appetite, I’m sorry.”

“Come on. I went to a lot of trouble. And you’re skin and bones as it is.” He sent her a frown. “Whatever you were doing the last year, there must not have been any damn good food where you were.”

No, the hospital food hadn’t been a culinary masterpiece. And after she’d finally gotten out of the hospital, there hadn’t exactly been a lot of money. Not until she’d gotten her waitressing job. Gosh, she’d been a colossal failure as a waitress. So clumsy. Always spilling the trays.