Page 18 of Heart of Frost and Scars

It really is. Best fucking meal I’ve ever had.

I feed her a forkful of potatoes, just to hear her moan again, which she does exquisitely.

Leo’s in his own world, caught in the thrall of so much food.

“Look at him.” I nibble on her neck. “Diving into this spread like he won a Willy Wonka golden ticket.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t turn into a blueberry or get mauled by squirrels.”

He stares at us with a straight face, his jaw working as he chews. “You know the moral of that story?”

“Greed is bad.” Her bright eyes stray to the chocolate fondue.

“Not as bad as denying you whatever you want.” I reach across the aisle and snatch a plate of dipped strawberries for her.

“The moral is…” He props an elbow on the table. “Billionaire CEOs can be crazy and diabolically cruel in ways the rest of us can’t.”

“And they can get away with murder.” My gut clenches.

“Exactly. We’re all in agreement we don’t trust Monty. Even if he plies us with meat and…” He devours a huge hunk of steak. “Fuck. This shit melts on my tongue.”

Leaning across the table, she dabs his beard with a napkin. “You were saying?”

“His island will give us a place to figure things out, but we can’t forget that behind that smile is a…”

“Murderous CEO in a top hat?” I lift a brow.

“I was going to say a man hellbent on reclaiming his wife.”

“That, too.” I squeeze her thigh.

“I love that you guys know that movie.” She picks at the uneaten strawberries on her plate.

“But?” I touch her chin, capturing her gaze.

“It doesn’t fit.” She shrugs. “I mean, I’m not defending Monty’s bad behavior. But he’s not a murderer.”

We don’t know that.

“He’s a wildcard.” I rest my chin on her shoulder. “He has motives. Don’t know if they align with ours.”

“We keep our eyes open and stay sharp.” Leo eyes Frankie’s dessert.

She pushes it toward him. “When we land, we have a lot to sort out.”

“First thing,” I say, “we get IDs. Can’t do much until we’re legal.”

“Yeah, and we need to learn how to drive.” Leo finishes off her strawberries. “Cars, boats, whatever gets us around.”

“Phones.” The word tastes strange in my mouth. “Gotta communicate in this world, right?”

“And we train.” His voice rises, that aggressive fire always near the surface. “Self-defense, survival in this urban jungle. Ain’t getting caught off guard.”

“All essential.” She leans forward, her earlier fear gone. “But therapy is our priority. We heal. Then we learn.”

I grunt, not at all interested in sharing my story with a stranger. Frankie won’t let this go, and her reasoning is sound. But the primal part of me, the part that’s guarded my survival for so long, resists.

The scowl on Leo’s face sums up our thoughts on the matter.

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