Page 1 of Ice Cold Christmas
Prologue
“I’m done being your dirty little secret.” Melody Mage’s breath heaved out as she glared at the far too sexy jerk before her. All big, bold, and seductively dangerous—and the man who just kept breaking her heart. Victor Alexander.
Her father’s protégé.
Her long-term nemesis.
The lover who made her quake and shake in all the right and wrong ways.
Christmas music played softly in the background. The lights from the twelve-foot Christmas tree gleamed. They were at the company’s big holiday party. A party where he’d barely spoken to her all night long.
He wore a perfectly cut tux.
She wore a bold red dress.
Her father had just announced that Victor would be taking over the company. There had been shock from the attendees. Then, after a stunned beat of time, applause for Victor. Victor—the genius who’d snuck past everyone’s guard. The hardcore predator who knew how to attack corporate enemies.
The lover who stole my heart.
Very, very slowly, Victor put down the champagne flute that he held. They were alone, for the moment. And maybe she should have held onto her control, but…
Control had never been her strong suit. They’d been playing games for far too long, and she was done.
Her gaze darted to the Christmas tree. It was probably over the top, but then again, that was the way of things in her family. Big. Over the top. Too much. There were seven different Christmas trees in the building, and this one—this one was in the main boardroom at Mage Industries. A gorgeous angel, strumming a harp, perched on top of the boardroom tree. Dozens of ornaments—all colors, red, blue, green, gold, white—hung from the limbs even as twisting, silver ribbon trailed down the branches.
The tree was massive, and the boardroom itself was huge, too, but as her stare slid back to Victor, the space somehow felt far too small as she faced off with her lover. A lover who denied her in public even as he made her scream with pleasure in private.
Oh, we are so done. If he didn’t stand by her side in public, he didn’t get to fuck her in private.
“I wasn’t aware that you were interested in telling people about our involvement.” Victor’s voice was very, very careful. That was the thing about Victor. He was always careful. Always controlled. Her total opposite. Even when they had sex—phenomenal sex, by the way—he was still controlled. Still seeming to hold part of himself back even as she splintered into a million pieces. That was hardly fair. It wasn’t right that she was completely lost to him. In love with him. But he could still maintain perfect control without so much as a small break in his chilling veneer.
He took a step toward her. The light hit the darkness of his hair, and his hard gaze raked her. “You seemed happy enough with our arrangement. Pretty sure you were screaming for more just last night.”
He had not just gone there. Melody stomped toward him in her two-inch, red heels. The heels still left her several inches below his towering height. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“Why not?” A cool reply. “Everyone says I’m so very good at the task. Pretty sure that’s the entire reason I’m taking over Mage Industries. Your father wants a real asshole at the helm. Someone who won’t take shit from the competition.”
She swallowed. “You’re breaking my heart.” Something she had not meant to say. Because she wasn’t supposed to admit that she cared. From the beginning, it had just been sex between them.
Right?
Only…
No, no, from the beginning, it was more. Always more, to me.
“Didn’t think you could break a heart that someone didn’t have.”
She sucked in a breath and felt pain blast straight to her heart as he delivered those emotionless words. A heart she very much possessed. “No more. We’re done.” She had to get out of there. Had to escape, as fast as she could.
Blindly, blinking away tears, she rushed for the door.
Only for his hand to curl around her wrist. That warm, strong hand. His touch always sent a charge burning through her blood.
“We’re not done.” Lethal. Low.
She looked at his hand. The golden skin. The crisp, white edge of his shirt, then the black smoothness of his tux sleeve. Her gaze slowly rose to collide with his, and when it did, for just an instant?—
Desperation.
