Page 5 of Trapped with the Ice Queen

It was near the base of a hill when something caught her eye—a flash of metallic gray through the swirling white. She eased her foot off the gas, and the truck slowed to a crawl. At first, it looked like it might be debris—a fallen branch, maybe—but as she rolled closer, the shape solidified into the unmistakable outline of a vehicle.

A luxury SUV, utterly useless in conditions like these. Snow had already begun to pile on the roof, and ice crept like spiderwebsalong the windows. Alex shook her head, incredulous.

“Of course,” she muttered, pulling alongside the stranded car. She killed the engine and slipped on her gloves as she braced herself against the cold. When she stepped out, the storm greeted her with ferocity, slapping her like an angry ghost. Snowflakes stung her cheeks and clung to her lashes as she trudged toward the vehicle, her boots crunching through knee-high drifts.

The SUV was in bad shape. Snow had packed itself tight against the wheel wells, and the tires—cheap all-seasons, from the looks of them—were no match for the icy incline. Alex glanced at the plates: out-of-state, naturally. She rapped on the frozen driver’s window, the sound muffled by the wind.

The figure inside jolted, then fumbled with the controls until the glass slid down a few inches. Perfume-laced air spilled out, a floral note that felt absurdly out of place here. Alex suppressed a groan.

The woman in the driver’s seat was striking—too put together for this rugged backdrop, like a porcelain doll dropped into the wilderness. High cheekbones, darkbrown hair falling in soft waves, and wide blue eyes that regarded Alex with equal parts annoyance and relief. But it wasn’t her beauty that caught Alex off guard; it was the absurdity of her outfit.

She was dressed for a holiday catalog, not a life-threatening snowstorm. A sweater dress clung to her figure, accentuating her breasts and Alex could see the shape of her freezing nipples through it. It was paired with knee-high boots that probably cost more than Alex’s entire wardrobe. A crinkled space blanket, thrown over her shoulders like an afterthought, did nothing to protect her from the cold.

“You lost?” Alex asked, her voice rough.

The woman’s expression tightened. “Obviously. My car broke down, and I’ve been trying to call for help, but there’s no signal.” Her tone was clipped, each word enunciated like she was speaking to someone beneath her.

A total bitch. A beautiful total bitch.

Alex arched a brow, leaning her weight onto one hip and letting her eyes drift over the stranger’s body. “No kidding. You’re lucky you didn’t freeze to death out here.”

“I wouldn’t have been out here in the first place if this stupid mountain hadn’t swallowed my GPS signal,” the woman shot back, her ungloved hands clutching the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to sanity.

Alex resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The SUV’s engine was silent, the hood blanketed in snow—whatever had gone wrong, this car wasn’t going anywhere without a tow truck. And in this weather, that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

“Right,” Alex said, her tone deadpan. “Well, you can’t stay here or you will die. Grab whatever you need and come with me. I’ll get you somewhere warm before you do something else dumb, like walking into the woods.”

The woman’s jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing in indignation. Alex recognized the type: proud, stubborn, the kind of person who would rather dig in their heels than admit they were in over their head. But there was a flicker of uncertainty beneath her haughty exterior, a crack in the polished veneer.

She hesitated, her handstightening on the wheel again. Alex could almost see the internal debate playing out—the desire to argue clashing with the harsh reality of the situation. Eventually, the woman huffed and reached for a designer bag on the passenger seat.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, more to herself than to Alex. She rummaged through the bag, pulling out a leather wallet and a phone that was probably worth more than Alex’s truck. A scarf, far too thin for the weather, followed.

“Is that it?” Alex asked, incredulous. “No extra layers? Boots that won’t land you in the ER with frostbite?”

The woman glared at her, cheeks flushing pink—not from the cold, Alex guessed, but from offense. “I wasn’t exactly planning to get stranded in the Arctic.”

Alex bit back a retort, her breath misting in the icy air. Instead, she took a step back and gestured toward her truck. “Fine. Just hurry up. The storm’s not going to wait for you to decide whether or not you’re above accepting help.”

The woman shot her one last frosty glare before shoving the items back in the bag andclimbing out of the SUV to grab the rest of her luggage in the trunk. She teetered for a moment, her impractical boots skidding on the ice, and Alex had to fight the urge to reach out and steady her.

“This is going to be fun,” Alex muttered under her breath, turning toward her truck as the storm howled around them.

Getting her luggage secured in the truck bed was a battle against both the elements and the woman's protests about designer leather in the snow. By the time they were both inside the cab, Alex's patience had worn as thin as the visibility.

The truck cab was warmer than the SUV, but the tension inside could have frozen the windows. Vivienne Blackwood—she’d introduced herself with all the self-importance of someone who expected the name to mean something—sat stiffly, her shoulder bag clutched in her lap as if the seat itself might stain the fabric.

Alex glanced at her sideways, biting back the urge to say something cutting. Vivienne looked wildly out of place in the rugged cab of the truck, like a high-gloss magazine ad shoved into a survivalist catalog. Her hair,still styled in soft waves despite the snow, gleamed faintly in the dim light from the dash. She’d managed to drape the too-large coat Alex had given her over her shoulders but wore it like it was an affront to her dignity.

“Put this on too,” Alex said, tossing her a second, more practical coat she kept stashed in the backseat, her eyes never leaving the road ahead.

Vivienne caught it midair with the tips of her manicured fingers, holding it at arm’s length as if it might bite her and making no move to actually wear it. Vivienne stared at her for a moment, clearly debating whether to push the issue, but eventually slipped the coat on with a delicate shrug. It swallowed her, the sleeves falling far past her hands, and the sight tugged at something in Alex’s chest. She dismissed the twinge.

They drove in silence for a while, the storm howling against the truck as if trying to break inside. The wipers struggled to keep up with the snow, and Alex leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as she peered into the blinding white ahead.

“Why are you out here?” Vivienne askedabruptly, her tone sharp enough to cut through the noise.

Alex didn’t look at her. “I live out here.”

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