In no universe did I think she would tell me about mining moguls sniffing around Nord. Inadvertently, she told me exactly the information I came to this wedding to get, and I didn’t have to get near Donovan’s sniveling face to get it. She’s just made my job much, much easier.
But if I act on that information, will she think I was sleeping with her to get her to spill state secrets? Will she feel used?
Normally, I wouldn’t care. I’d store that little piece of gold in the things I’ll definitely use later box. You don’t successfully hunt companies by being a nice, stand-up guy.
But this isn’t some random victim of my schemes. This is Penelope. The Queen of Nord. The girl across the roof, who made my days at boarding school happy, who hauled mini rose bushes up to her windowsill because she couldn’t get them back home. The girl who treated me like a real person, and not like a peasant who was beneath her. Can I really use information she let slip after we…well, after we did what we just did?
Penelope runs her hand over her dress, removing an invisible piece of lint off her skirt. Her hair already back in place. Golden strands twist into a knot at the nape of her neck as she smooths her palms over her head to catch the last little flyaways that halo around her head. Her face is stoic, serious, and completely different from the picture of bliss it was a few minutes ago.
When was the last time I saw a woman come apart like that in my arms? A woman who wanted to tear my shirt off, who wasn’t afraid to let her hands drift over my scars? A woman who looked at me with hunger in her eyes, without wanting anything from me but pleasure?
I…I can’t remember. Sex is usually transactional for me. Not with money, but…needs, just trading orgasms with someone who will disappear from my life as soon as the act is over. It’s no deeper than the physical act.
This felt different. Still, when Penelope straights up and faces me, looking every bit a queen, I can’t help but feel that something has changed between us, and not in a good way. There’s distance between us. A coldness that wasn’t there before. Was this casual to her? Did she not feel the connection I thought was there?
She nods. “It’s been a pleasure, Asher. We should probably get back.”
“Of course.” Unable to resist, I let my hand drift to her lower back as I lead her to the exit. She squares her shoulders, dipping her chin as I open the door up for her. Dishes clatter on the other side as a servant yelps, seeing the Queen of Nord emerge from a staff common room.
Penelope ignores them, moving down the hallway like she owns it. Nothing about her says we’ve just had sex. Nothing about the way she walks, the way she holds her head, the way her clothing still somehow looks perfectly put together.
It’s like it never happened.
Grinding my teeth as I ignore the uncomfortable tension in the center of my chest, I follow her down the hallway. Am I upset that she doesn’t look as frazzled as I feel? Embarrassment winds its way through my core, squeezing my heart. I shouldn’t care about Penelope. I shouldn’t care about anyone! Why would I be upset that she’s acting like nothing happened? Like what we just shared meant nothing? Of course it meant nothing—it was a quick, dirty fuck at someone’s wedding. Two lonely people scratching an itch.
I should be thanking her and going on my merry way. I’m here to get information, and I got it. I know she was talking about Donovan, and now I know he’s planning to expand in Nord. He has no chance of slithering out of this merger. I should be happy. The day was a success.
But my mouth tastes like ash.
When we get back to the reception, speeches are happening. I see Gabriel, lost in his own world, with his arms around his bride.
Good for him. Bitterness tugs my lips down as I stare at the joy in my old friend’s eyes. I cast an eye over the assembled people in all their finery, feeling every bit the outsider that I am. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong in the arms of someone like Penelope.
Imagine if she saw me without a shirt! If she saw me the way I am, there’s no chance would she let me touch her the way she did today. She’d recoil, just like everyone else does. Just like she’s doing right now. Penelope throws me an indecipherable glance, then slips away through the crowd. Walks away like nothing happened.
I take a deep breath, jumping when I hear my assistant’s voice beside me. “Any progress? Donovan’s been drinking. If there was a time to start extracting some information from him, it would be now.” Nico scans the crowd as I stare at Penelope. The last thing I want to do is talk to Reggie Donovan. My assistant runs his palm over his dark blond hair, squinting against the sun. He pushes his wire-rimmed glasses up and swings his gaze to me, questioning.
Nico’s been my second-in-command for years. He’s as ruthless as I am. Ambitious, hard-working, and deserving of success. He marched into my office five years ago, slapped a résumé on my desk, and told me I’d be a fool not to hire him. The hunger in his gaze convinced me to give him a chance, and it was one of the few decisions I’ve made that I’m proud of. The man is a workhorse and better at coddling difficult egos than I am. He’s cleaned up more than a few messes I’ve made, but I’m not sure even he’d be able to clean up this one.
“Nord,” I answer.
Nico frowns, arching a brow.
“He’s trying to expand into Nord. Not sure what kind of resources he’s planning on mining, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find out.”
Nico’s lips pinch as he nods, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. “Well done, sir.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“You always get the information you need,” he replies, throwing a glance toward Donovan. His eyes narrow, and I know I’ll have a report on my desk by the morning confirming Donovan’s plans to expand into Nord.
The mining tycoon is drunk, half falling over as he throws his arm around a poor, scared-looking waitress. I have no desire to talk to him right now. Even if I did, he probably wouldn’t even remember it. Plus, I got what I needed. I can get back to work now.
Ice chips freeze in my veins as I glance at the Queen, feeling oddly queasy about using that information. She has no idea I came to this wedding to squeeze Reginald Donovan. She has no idea that she handed me a secret on a platter and saved me hours of negotiation and investigation work.
But she did it after…after we…
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I suck in a breath to try to regain control over my rioting emotions. Why do I even care what Penelope thinks? We’re not together. I haven’t seen the woman in twenty years. We’re not children anymore, and she knows who I am. Who I work for. If she didn’t want me to act on that information, she shouldn’t have said anything.
I hunt companies, and right now, I’m hunting Donovan Enterprises. Whatever happened in that break room, it’s over now, and it doesn’t change the fact that I have a job to do. “Let’s go,” I grunt, jerking my head toward the exit.
Nico frowns but doesn’t complain. A prickling on the back of my neck draws my gaze across the tent. Penelope’s bright blue gaze makes my whole body turn rigid. I freeze, caught up in her eyes. There are a hundred people between us, with cheering and clapping and speeches, but the whole world exists in her stare. She looks almost yearning. Like she’d want to be here, beside me.
And I—well, I’d like that.
Then the Queen blinks, and her face is shuttered again. She turns her head toward the speaker, and I follow Nico out of the tent. Pushing down the discomfort raging within my chest, I ignore the smell of roses and the laughter at my back.
I don’t belong at this wedding. I don’t belong with these people. Penelope took me to a dirty back room and we did what we wanted in a few quick, filthy minutes. It doesn’t mean I’m worthy of standing beside her.
I found out about Donovan’s plans in Nord from Penelope, but that’s her problem. Not mine. Donovan is on his last legs, limping away from a hostile merger that my family’s company is initiating. If we find out what he’s doing in Nord and stop it—or tak
e it for ourselves—he’ll have no choice but to sign on the dotted line.
If Pen didn’t want me to find that out, she shouldn’t have said anything.
But, but, but…
I walk away from the tent. Away from Penelope. Away from her eyes of crushed ice and the fire she ignited in my core.
My father is a man in his early sixties. His hair used to be dark, almost black, with only two patches of white hair around his temples. Now, though, he’s starting to show his age. New lines have appeared on his skin and his hair is almost completely gray. His face is clean-shaven, and his eyes are dark like mine.
We would have looked similar, if not for the fire. I curl my hand into a fist to stop myself from running my fingers over the border of the scar on my cheek.
Father sits behind his desk like a king on a throne, hands resting on the arms of his chair. “So,” he starts. “What have you discovered about Donovan?”
I hesitate. The wedding was two days ago, but I still can’t shake the feeling that saying something about Nord would be a betrayal. In the past two days, Nico confirmed that Reggie is hoping to expand into Nord, and even planning a trip up there in the coming weeks. I still don’t know what mines he wants to develop, or how good his information is about the resources up there. It could all be bullshit, but something tells me it’s not.
But I haven’t acted on the information. I haven’t delivered the killing blow. I can still see Penelope’s eyes, staring at me across the tent. I can feel the way her gaze made my body heat up. The way she made me feel when her arms were wrapped around my neck. How her lips drifted over the scarred skin on my cheek almost reverently.
She didn’t recoil from me. She came apart in my arms like I was sent to that wedding for the sole purpose of making her feel alive.
But my father doesn’t know that. No one knows what happened in that room. I gulp, staring at the man who’s made me feel small since I was a child.
His eyes drift down to my cheek, to the pink skin that’s shinier and paler than my normal complexion. If I weren’t looking for it, I’d miss the twitch of disgust in his lip. I wouldn’t notice the flash in his eyes, or the way he drops his gaze all too quickly to the papers on his desk.
Before I can answer, the door behind me opens. My little brother enters, shirt half untucked and hair disheveled. His bright, green eyes shine, and a disarming smile graces his lips. His unmarked skin has a thin sprinkling of stubble on it, as if he hasn’t shaved in two or three days.
“Father,” he says, dipping his head. Logan’s eyes shift to me, to my scar, then back to my eyes. “Asher.”
“Thank you for joining us, Son.” My father gestures to the armchair next to mine, and I bristle. Son. He never calls me that. Asher, yes. Boy sometimes, when he’s angry. Mostly, he doesn’t call me anything at all.
But Logan is son—even though Logan spends his days chasing supermodels and socialites. Even though Logan is Farcliff’s most popular bad boy, gracing every front page of the tabloids every week. He has brought more controversy to this family than the rest of us combined.
Yet my father’s eyes still soften when Logan walks in. He plans to pass the company onto my brother, even though I’m the one who’s made it grow beyond what anyone could have ever imagined. I’m the one who’s brokered every major deal in our company’s history. I’m the one who’s laid other businesses at my father’s feet, presenting them like an offering to a god. I’m the one who’s made my father richer than he could have ever imagined.
But Logan is son, and I’m just boy.
My brother lowers himself onto the chair next to mine, slumping down and letting his legs stretch out toward the desk. My father folds his arms on the desk, leaning toward the two of us.
“Logan, I wanted to thank you for your work with the Farcliff Times. The newspaper sent me a preliminary version of the article you worked on, and the company comes off really well. You’ve done good work.”
Pride glows in my father’s eyes, and I clench my jaw so hard pain spears into my head.
Good work? Logan? Is he insane?
I guarantee you my lazy, party-animal brother hasn’t done good work. He probably pawned it off to his assistant and just showed up for the photoshoot looking like the perfect male model he is. Logan hasn’t done good work, because Logan wouldn’t know work if it hit him across the face, which, incidentally, I have an urge to do right now.
But my father looks pleased, and Logan nods, accepting the praise as if he deserves it.
Anger peppers my chest like a thousand tiny daggers. They cut my flesh as I sit here and bleed.
Father swings his eyes over to me. “And you? I gave you the task of completing this merger with Donovan Enterprises. I’ve heard talk he’s making a move, and he might not agree to this merger. If the shareholders side with him, we’ll lose the deal. It’s worth multiple hundred millions of dollars, Asher.” His lips pinch, deep lines bracketing his mouth.
At least he used my name.
I sit up, Logan’s stare prickling on my neck. I resist the urge to adjust my collar to hide my scar, choosing instead to grit my teeth before I speak. I shouldn’t say anything. I know I shouldn’t. I’m mad that Logan gets a gold star for showing up to work two hours late while I get a slap on the wrist for making my father a billionaire. I’m resentful and bitter, and I hate the way my father’s lips twitch whenever he’s forced to look at me.
I feel his disgust like an oily film on my skin. I see the look in his eyes that says he’d prefer it if I’d died in the fire, rather than have to look at my imperfect body for the rest of his life. The weight of his expectations makes me small.
But I could hand him the biggest deal of the company’s history if I bring Reginald Donovan in. I could use the information Penelope let slip and become my father’s favorite son. If I find out what he’s planning in Nord, I could deliver the killing blow to Donovan Enterprises, ensuring he’s swallowed up in our family’s company without so much as a word of protest.
If I open my mouth and speak, I can show my father I’m worthy of being his son. I’m better than Logan at this. I deserve to take over when Father retires.
I don’t owe Penelope anything. What happened at Prince Gabriel’s wedding was a blip. A mistake. A moment in time. That feeling I thought I felt? The connection? It was lust, that’s all.
This, right here, is my life, and I’m not going to let Logan take over the business I helped build. My shoulders straighten as I nod. “Donovan is looking to expand into Nord.” Every word feels like a stone sinking into a still pool, causing ripples to spread out, out, out. My fingernails dig into my palm to scatter the image.
Father frowns, two deep lines appearing between his brows. He leans forward, and I love the way he waits for me to speak. He knows this is important.
“I’m not sure what he’s planning yet, but it’s big. It’s giving him enough confidence that he’ll be able to keep the shareholders on his side and refuse our merger. Whatever he’s planning in Nord has got to be in the hundreds of millions.”
My father’s eyebrows twitch, a faint trace of approval in his eyes. Ignoring the hot spear piercing my chest that feels a bit too much like shame, I hold his gaze. I know this information is new to him, and I know no one else could have discovered it.
“And you’re sure about this?” my father asks, his praise for Logan forgotten. Father’s eyes are on me, with no trace of disgust. No flick to my scar. No sign that I’m anything less than the son who made his company what it is.
I dip my chin. “Positive.”
“How do you know?” Logan asks, his voice sounding a lot like a whine. I know my father pits us against each other every chance he gets, but I can’t quite resist the urge to play along.
Triumphant, I swing my eyes to my brother. “I have contacts.”
“And you trust this information.” Father drums his fingers on his desk, tilting his head in a slightly predatory way as he stares at me. He can smell Donov
an’s blood now. He knows we’re close.
“I’d bet my life on it.” After all, it was the Queen’s own mouth that spoke the words. If anyone in Nord would know the value of the land, it’s her.
My father leans back in his chair, brows tugging together. “What is he planning?”
“That, I’m not sure. I’d like to go to Nord to find out. I could leave this week.”
My father’s frown deepens. “You want to go yourself? What about your responsibilities here in Farcliff?”
“This could be big, Father. Bigger than any other deal we’ve done.” It’s the truth, too. The merger with Donovan Enterprises is significant—but if it came with new prospects to expand in Nord? Massive.
There’s another reason I’d like to go to Nord, but I can’t tell my father or Logan. A blond, blue-eyed beauty with a crown nestled in her hair. A woman I’d kill to see again—but who says that’s going to happen even if I do go to Nord? It’s not like I can walk into the castle to say hello. Does a queen even have a cell phone?
Wanting to see Penelope again—it’s a silly fantasy. I know that. It doesn’t mean it isn’t pulling me toward Nord. My more reasonable motivation is needing to find out what Donovan is doing. That could pay off in a big way. That’s why I want to go to Nord. Not the Queen. At least that’s what I tell myself as I sit in my father’s office.
My father tents his fingers. He’s not thinking of a stupid newspaper article, or the way Logan’s pretty green eyes sparkle when they’re on the cover of a magazine. Father’s thinking about me, and how much money I can make him if I go to Nord.
“You might spook Donovan if you show up in Nord,” Logan says, scowling.
I know I shouldn’t hate my brother. I don’t hate him, exactly. It’s just…he’s been given everything. He’s treated with respect. He has this entire company—a company I helped build—headed his way, and for what? Because he takes a good picture? In the logical corners of my mind, I know it should be my father I resent. He’s the one who makes me feel small, who pits me against my brother, who sends me off to do his dirty work. When I look at Logan, though, I can’t help the anger that threads through my heart. The unfairness of it all—all the love and attention and worship he gets for being whole. Healthy. For being fucking beautiful.
Ice Queen: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance Page 5