Page 8 of Ice Cold Christmas

As for the questions, she’d had answers ready. She’d spent plenty of time rehearsing her responses.

I had to get away. Please understand, I needed time on my own. I regret that I caused any concern…

Such utter bullshit. She didn’t think they’d bought her words. And that was fair, because the words had not been the truth.

Not. At. All.

Everything she’d said that night had been a lie. From the minute that she’d walked into the house, it had been one giant lie after another.

Her arms wrapped around her body. She rocked forward. “You can do this,” she whispered. More like, you have to do this. Because there wasn’t any choice. The game had started, and she had to finish it, no matter the cost.

She hadn’t expected Sebastian Mage to look so…fragile. In the photos she’d seen online, he’d been robust. Almost larger than life. In that den, though, he’d been too thin. His body shaking. Too pale. She’d wanted to run to him. To wrap her arms around him and say?—

A door opened. One to the left. It squeaked and sent her heart racing into a panic as it swung open and a big, shadowy form filled the doorway. A doorway that connected to the guest room next door, not to the hallway.

She hadn’t thought anyone was in that room. But now the big, dark shadow was moving toward her, and Melody didn’t believe that screaming would do any good. Too many people in the home were out for her blood. Her hands fell as she automatically took a step back.

“Where the fuck were you?”

Victor. Victor Alexander was in her room. He shut the door behind him. Click. He glared at her. Seemed even bigger. If Sebastian Mage had been smaller than she anticipated, then Victor—he was a whole lot more than she’d expected. Taller. Stronger. More…savage. His eyes glinted and held an icy darkness that seemed to pierce straight to her soul.

Victor wore dress pants. Gleaming shoes. A white dress shirt. No coat. No tie. The top buttons on his shirt had been yanked open while his sleeves rolled up to reveal powerful forearms.

Hatterson had brought her coat into the room. Her coat and her bag. Automatically, she inched toward that coat. It had been tossed onto the foot of the bed. She’d done the tossing. Her fingers grabbed for the coat, and her hand slipped into the front pocket.

“Where the fuck were you?” Again, same question. Lethal intensity.

Her breath shuddered out. She turned toward him, and at the same time, Melody tucked her hands behind her back. “I don’t remember inviting you into my room.”

“I don’t need a fucking invitation.”

She cleared her throat. “You say ‘fuck’ a lot.”

He blinked.

“And I’m pretty sure you do need an invitation.” Melody kept her chin up. “You can’t just burst into a woman’s bedroom without asking. That’s not done.”

He stalked toward her. Stalked. The only way to describe his movements. His hands were clenched at his sides in powerful fists. Tension held his body in a fierce grip. A muscle flexed along what was a very strong and square jaw as he closed in on her.

She didn’t retreat. Mostly because the bed was behind her. But fear bloomed in her heart. She didn’t know this man. Couldn’t predict what he might do next. Her research had indicated he would be a dangerous adversary.

How dangerous? What will you do to me, Victor Alexander? Or, better question…What have you already done?

He stopped right in front of her.

Her head tipped back. The better to stare up at him. Into the darkness of his eyes. He was a brutally handsome man. Emphasis on the brutal part. All hard edges and angles. No softness at all. Thick, almost jet-black hair. Strong nose. Sharp cheekbones. And that hard, clenched jaw…

“You think I’m going to buy that you just had to get away?”

She wet her lips.

His gaze locked on her mouth.

“A lot was happening,” she murmured. “You’d gotten control over the company…”

He growled.

“I-I needed to find my place. I had to go?—”