Page 12 of Silent Night, Savage Heart

Blake

Frost & Flame sits on the edge of Wintervale's respectable district like a beautiful mistake.

The kind of place the founding families pretend doesn't exist while their sons spend trust fund money at the bar and their daughters sneak in through the back entrance wearing borrowed IDs and bad decisions.

I won it off a Caldwell heir four years ago in a fight that should have killed me. Three broken ribs, a concussion, and twenty minutes of violence that felt like a baptism. When it was over, he signed the deed with blood still dripping from his nose. It was a good night.

His family tried to take it back. Lawyers, threats, a couple of hired muscle who learned the hard way that I don't scare easily. The deed's in my name. The land's in my name. And every brick of this building is mine in a way nothing else in Wintervale ever has been. I will never give it up.

I pull around to the back entrance and kill the engine. Peyton's been quiet since Talia left. Not scared-quiet. Thinking-quiet. The kind that means she's three steps ahead, calculating angles and odds and exit strategies.

Smart.

Dangerous.

And she smells fucking good.

Exactly the kind of woman I should keep at arm's length if I had any sense of self-preservation left.

I don't.

"Stay close," I tell her as we get out. "The main floor's public, but my office is private. Soundproofed. No cameras. We can talk there."

"Soundproofed," she repeats, and there's something in her voice, not fear exactly, but awareness. The kind women learn early and carry forever. "Should I be concerned about that?"

I stop, turn to face her fully in the dim light of the back alley. Snow's falling again, catching in her dark curly hair, melting on skin that should be cold, given the temperature, but I imagine this woman always runs hot.

"You should always be concerned," I say. "But not about that. Not from me."

"Men say that a lot."

"I'm not any man."

"No." She studies me, head tilted, eyes sharp even in shadow. "You're a Delano. Which, from what I’ve heard, might be worse."

“Your father taught you well because it definitely is."

Her lips curve—not quite a smile, but close enough to make something tighten in my chest. Dangerous territory. She's a job. An obligation. A line I walked away from six years ago that's pulling me back, whether I want it or not.

Except she's also standing in an alley in a dress that costs more than most people's rent, holding a flash drive that could destroy half of Wintervale's power structure, looking at me like I'm a puzzle she's deciding whether to solve or discard.

And I want her to solve it.

I’ve been in her presence for only a few hours, and suddenly I want her to see what's underneath the Delano reputation. I want her to know I’m not someone to fear.

But fuck.

That ain’t smart.

I turn away before she can read too much in my expression. "Come on. It's freezing, and you're going to get hypothermia in that dress."

"Worried about me, Blake?"

"Worried about the paperwork if you die on my watch."

"Liar."

She's right. I am.