Chapter 7 #3
The chairlift squeaks and rocks in the wind. My hand trembles. She will be fine. I am not going to her because I care; I don’t want to be fucking sued.
The lift finally comes to slope three. I ignore the attendant and grab a snowboard.
“She is not my fucking problem. But she is definitely a problem,” I whisper. The wind feels like small razor blades hitting my face.
Pulling down my snow goggles, I glide effortlessly down the slope.
She did this, and it’s utterly ridiculous, counter-fucking-productive.
As I come to a stop, I remember the direction she went.
Taking the board in my hand, I hustle through the snow.
Everything about her is pure chaos, from our first meeting to the vase she hurdled at me and our first kiss.
That kiss was…hot and full of lust. I felt greedy and needy.
She makes me want to want things that I don’t need.
I hear a small howl. Is that the wind or a wolf? Fuck!
I hope she is not hurt or some wild animal gets her. Suppose her foot is sprained and she is stuck in a fucking cave? My soul shudders at the thought of her being hurt.
I begin to walk faster, not caring about the wind, or how high I have to lift my legs. I need to find her and know that she was okay. I see a small grey fluff. I bend and pick it up.
“Noelle,” I whisper. My heart races, and I move quickly to through the snow.
The groundskeeper’s cabin should be somewhere around here.
Snow is covering everything and making it hard for me to see.
But in the distance, I see a small structure.
Relief floods my soul. She has to be in there. I would go crazy if she isn’t.
NOELLE
I am not meant for this survival life. I wipe the first tear with the back of my hand.
Never in my life did I have to light a fire.
You can see evidence of that with the unlit matchsticks that litter the ground.
I have been trying to light this wooden stove, and it’s to no avail.
It feels like I have been on my knees forever.
My fingers feel cold since I took my gloves off to get a better hold of the matches.
My fingers tingle, and my palms are turning white. The sky is about to be dark in an hour or so.
I should just roll onto the bed and find a pose, so when the coroners find me, at least I would be looking cute. Cold and dead…but cute.
The wind is picking up, and I have three more matchsticks. The stupid lantern is broken. Maybe I can make a lamp out of a sardine tin. That is very MacGyver of me. I think of my dad and his favorite 80’s show of this man that never uses guns, but he can make and fix anything.
Just when I am about to do the impossible, I hear movement outside.
Jumping up to my feet, I grab the shovel and move behind the door. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I knew it was a serial killer cabin. Too much rope, duct tape, and sardines. The door opens, and I raise the shovel to my side and swing. I will knock him out before he can get to me.
“Noelle?” It was Roman. My heart leaps, but it is too late. My swing is already in motion, and the shovel is about to hit his head.
Roman, sensing danger, dodges the shovel but is still clipped on the shoulder. I drop it and run to him.
“My God, this fucking woman!” He screams and holds his shoulder.
With my outstretched hand, I try to touch his shoulder. “I am so sorry.”
“It’s nothing.” He stands up tall and stretches his head from left to right, moving his shoulders in a circle.
I stand in front of him, feeling like I am on the verge of falling apart. I step closer and press myself into his chest. My arms slip around him as I bury my face into his cologne-soaked sweater.
His arms wrap around me, and a small kiss touches my forehead. “Are you okay?”
I nod, feeling relieved that he came back for me. Tears run down my face, but I don’t want him to see. The damsel in distress mode is never something I want Roman Voss to witness. But I can’t help it as the tears run down my face faster.
“Hey, hey, are you crying?” he asks against the crown of my head. I just nod against his sweater.
I feel another kiss on my forehead. “It’s okay. Look at me.”
“Hell freaking no.” My voice is muffled.
“Are you hurt?” He asks as he rubs my back and arms.
“No, I am just cold.”
“Okay, princess. Let me go so I can make us a fire.” He chuckles when my arms don’t move.
I didn’t want to let him go because my mind may have made him up. Did Roman Voss just call me “princess”?
Roman’s hand slips under my chin and lifts my head. I meet his green gaze.
“You had me so worried, princess.” He pauses. “I am sorry about this morning. My attitude was uncalled for.”
I pout, and my bottom lip trembles. “I am sorry too.”
He bends and kisses my lips, and his tongue begins to search my mouth, and I moan.
Roman pulls away. “Let me light this fire, and we can talk.”
“Can’t we leave now?” I ask, looking over his shoulder. I can’t see anything but white outside.
“No, we are in for a blizzard. So let me warm this place up, and then we can talk.”
“Okay,” I reply, stepping away and sitting on the edge of the bed.
Relief settles like a warm blanket over me.
He came looking for me. Through a storm, he came looking for me.
I watch as he bends and strikes the match.
Whatever qualm I had with Roman is gone.
Despite everything, Roman always has my best interest at heart.
He shrugs out of his jacket and passes it to me. “Put this on.”
“I am fine, Roman, really,” I lie.
“I wasn’t asking,” he replies. He drops the jacket, so I have to catch it.
I put the jacket on over my shoulders and pull it closer to my nose. I inhale Roman’s scent. It’s rich, clean, woody. In other words, sexy as hell.
Unlike me, Roman strikes the match, and minutes later, a fire starts.
He stands and closes the grate in the fireplace.
Roman’s presence in the room makes everything feel small. The bed creaks as he sits next to me.
Silence settles over us, but a tension is brewing, or my brain may be dramatic. When his head turns and his green stare meets mine, I know I am not being dramatic.
“Who is Nicholas?” he asks between clenched teeth.
I squint. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because…I need to know. Who is he?” Roman stares into the fire.
I choose to remain silent for a while, enjoying the snap and crackle of the fire.
“Princess,” he warns.
“He is my baby brother,” I whisper.
I chuckle as Roman’s shoulders collapse, like all the tension just left them.
“Hold up, was that why you were angry? Because you thought Nicky was my man?” I tilt my head to the side.
Roman dips his head. “To be honest, yes. I saw his name on your phone, and I don’t know—”
“You spazzed out and acted like a jackass,” I reply with a shrug.
“I hear hints of your accent when you say the word ‘jackass.’”
I smile. “I can only code switch for so long. Since we are being honest…”
Roman sits up. “Yes.”
“I didn’t like that you were giving Tessa attention and love eyes,” I state.
Roman throws his head back and laughs. “‘Love eyes’? Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously.” I place my hand on my forehead and act like I want to faint. “Oh, help me please, Roman. My hands are too feeble.”
Roman shakes his head. “I am sorry if that affected you. It meant nothing.”
“It didn’t affect me.” I clear my throat. “But thank you for apologizing.”
“Is there any food?” Roman stands and opens the cupboard. I hear “Yuck.”
“What, don’t you like sardines?”
“Only serial killers and psychos like sardines,” Roman replies.
“Ha, I said the same thing.”
He passes me a bottle of water.
I open it and take a sip. “How long do you think we will be stuck in here?”
Moving to the window, Roman peeps outside. “The snow is coming down heavily. Maybe tonight into tomorrow morning.”
I nod. Roman opens the door and hustles out.
What the hell is he doing?
In seconds, he returns with a pile of logs in his hand, throwing it onto the other pile.
“Just in case we have to stay longer,” Roman says.
The wind howls outside. The fireplace warms the room, and I take Roman’s jacket off and hang it onto the back of the chair.
He sits beside me. “Are you enjoying yourself, though?”
“I am. Your family is nice.” I look at his side profile, loving the straight line of his nose, his full lips, his hair that curls just under his ear.
“Can I ask a question? If I overstep, tell me.”
He looks back at me, his elbows on his legs and his palms interlocked. “Sure.”
“What’s the deal with you and your mom?”
ROMAN
Of all the questions, she chooses this one. What do I tell her?
The truth or nothing at all. I sigh, keeping my eyes on the dancing flame.
“Three years ago, Liam was named head of the Voss empire over me. After I worked my ass off for Voss. I was so damn upset.”
“So you left because you didn’t inherit your grandfather’s business? Why didn’t he give it to your dad?”
In my mind, I could still hear my grandfather berating my father over the dinner table.
“He didn’t think Dad had the backbone for business.”
The fire spits and crackles. Small embers try to escape, but they don’t move past the grate.
“Okay, I get what you’re saying. But the tension I feel sometimes, it feels like there is more to the story.”
“Three years ago, after Liam was named CEO, I rushed to my grandfather’s office, only to find my mother and him fucking.”
I hear a gasp and turn around. Noelle is looking like a fish out of water. Her mouth is opening and closing.
“Wow, that’s some white people shit right there,” she says.
In all the things she could have said, I chuckle. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Wait, so your dad knows?”
I clench my jaw. “He does.”
“And he is still with your mom?”
I nod. “Yep. When I told my dad, he did nothing. We fought, and I left.”
Her hand presses on my shoulder. “Is Liam your dad’s or your grandfather’s?”
I shrug because that never crossed my mind till she said it. “I don’t know.”
“That’s a lot to take in.”