Page 36 of Whiteout

There was no more talk of estate matters, for which Breanna was grateful. Instead, linking his arm with hers, he told her the story of how the Daltons ended up here. She’d already heard it from Jordy, of course, but she listened as if she were hearing it for the very first time.

Breanna picked up a warm croissant from the tray Francie had sent up to her. “To tide you over,” she said.

Slathering it with butter and raspberry jam, Breanna gazed outside the glass. The sky unfettered, crystal flakes sporadically fluttered in the air. Not falling to the ground, they simply danced along with the wind. Briefly, she wondered if another storm was on the way. Not that it mattered.

It’s not like I’m going anywhere.

She had to get ready, though. Breanna wasn’t sure why she cared, because she didn’t know these people, and she’d likely never encounter them again, but she was Shane Dalton’s daughter, wasn’t she? She wanted to do him proud.

Washing the croissant down with some coffee, a scratch sounded on the glass. Breanna turned her head and shrieked. The wolf she’d spotted yesterday, only it wasn’t a wolf at all, pawed at her door, as if asking to come in. White with black markings and ice-blue eyes, the dog wagged its tail, seeing it had her attention.

“Oh, my goodness.” Putting her cup down, Breanna got up and moved to the door. She opened it, wintry air and the dog pushing past her. “And who do you belong to?”

The Siberian Husky, at least she presumed that’s what breed it was, nudged her hand with its nose, looking for a pat. Petting the dog’s thick, well-groomed coat, there was no doubt in her mind someone cared for him—or was it her?

With a soft giggle, Breanna checked. He was definitely a she. “Sorry, girl.”

What am I supposed to do with you?

“C’mon.” She patted her thigh for the dog to follow her. “I guess you can hang out with me for a while.”

Her sweater dress was a dusty, pale pink, and as soft as the finest cashmere, though it wasn’t. Modest from the front, the V-back dipped almost to her waist, with crisscrossed straps that kept the garment from falling down her shoulders. To show it off, Breanna pulled her hair up, twisting it into a loose knot at her nape, while leaving some strands free to frame her face.

Five days old now, the mark on her forehead had faded some, but it was still noticeable—at least to her. Concealing it as best she could, Breanna carefully applied her makeup, her new furry friend lying at her feet. “There. How do I look?”

“Beautiful.”

She whipped her head around.

Silhouetted in the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest, Derek leaned against it as if he had every right to be there.

“Do you have a habit of sneaking into people’s rooms?”

“No, actually, I don’t.” Smirking, he pushed off the jamb and moved toward her. “And I didn’t sneak. You were just too preoccupied to notice.”

With a glance down at the pup, she turned back to the mirror. “Some watchdog you are.”

“She knows me.” Chuckling, Derek’s hands came to rest on her shoulders. “Besides, Hera wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Hera?”

“That’s her name.” His fingers swept along her collarbone. “Goddess of women, marriage, and birth, she was married to—”

“Zeus.” Breanna dabbed a bit of gloss on her lips and turned around.

His hands falling to the marble vanity, Derek caged her in. He leaned forward, his hard form pressing into her soft one. Head dipping to her neck, he murmured in her ear, “It’s a deadly combo.”

“What is?”

“Smart and beautiful.” He pulled away, a devilish smirk on his face. “Come now, the guests are going to arrive soon.”

Thankful she had the sweater dress to keep her somewhat warm, Breanna took her place in the grand foyer, meeting and greeting every guest as they arrived.

“It’s your duty,” Derek said.

He stood with her, his hand at her waist like they were the new power couple or something. As if. Folks from the village and business associates alike welcomed her warmly, each offering their condolences on her grandmother’s passing.

“The last Dalton,” the old lady lamented with a shake of her head. Breanna had forgotten who she was already. “Such a shame the name will die with you.”

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