Bitter Heat

by Mia Knight

  Roth sat in front of the fire with his phone. From his disgusted expression, it was obvious he didn’t have service. Not good news. She went up to the loft and pulled on her beanie cap and gloves before she dived under the covers. They were damp from the cold. She buried her face in her frosty pillowcase as a door closed downstairs. Roth probably needed a shower more than she did after being out in the snow.

  She curled into a ball and willed the sheets to accept her body heat, but it wasn’t happening. She would chance hypothermia rather than sit around a fire with her ex-husband. As the minutes passed, she realized her thermal underwear wasn’t doing shit. If anything, any warmth she regained from changing into dry clothes was evaporating. By the time he emerged from the bathroom, her teeth were clacking together.

  “Jasmine, get down here!”

  “I-I’m—” She tried to get out ‘fine’, but that was beyond her. She was miserable. The sound of the whistling wind only added to her belief that was going to freeze to death.

  There was no door to the loft, just a railing that overlooked the first floor, so she didn’t get a warning. One minute, she was trembling beneath the covers, and the next, she was being lifted into the air. She shrieked and kicked before her stomach landed on his shoulder.

  “P-put me d-down!”

  “I spent winters sleeping in front of the fire,” he said as he carried her downstairs and plopped her on the couch he had moved in front of the fireplace. “You’ll freeze up there.”

  “I-I was okay the other n-nights,” she stammered even as she held her hands out to the flames.

  “On the other nights, the cabin was already warm, and the temperature wasn’t in the single digits.”

  She whipped her head around to blast him and blinked. The fancy suit and overcoat were gone, and in its place were stained, worn jeans and a battered khaki-colored wool-lined jacket with a plaid flannel beneath. Roth went from mogul to mountain man so fast, she was struck speechless. As she examined the outfit, which included well-worn snow boots, she had to admit that this was more impressive to her than any tailored suit. She had grown up around wealthy businessmen. She knew the cologne they wore, the women they married, the cars they were chauffeured in, and what made them tick, yet none of that interested her. She had an appreciation for anyone who worked with their hands, and the practical, no-frills clothing was more intriguing to her than any ten-thousand-dollar suit.

  “Where did you get those clothes?” she asked.

  “They were my father’s.”

  “I thought you said he passed when you were a child.”

  “He did,” he said as he sat on the couch beside her.

  “Kaia kept his clothes all these years?”

  “Yes.”

  She edged away so they weren’t touching. Nevertheless, she caught a whiff of him and felt a strange stirring. He’d used her black orchid body wash. Why hadn’t he used his mother’s Irish Spring soap? Despite the fact he used a girly product, an undercurrent of cedar and evergreen changed the scent into something masculine and alluring.

  When the sound of the wind rose to a roar, she hunched her shoulders as if that could protect her from the storm. Two days ago, she watched the snow fall with a smile on her face. At the time, she took it as a sign that everything was going to be okay. Bad shit happened, but the seasons were still going to change, and she had to move with it. Now, the relentless white made her shudder. If she had tried to come back to the cabin by herself, she would have frozen to death. She didn’t know anything about generators and would have huddled in front of the fireplace, praying she didn’t get frostbite.

  “Tell me what happened today.”

  She wrapped an old quilt around her shoulders as she recalled her hectic day. “This morning, she was making cornbread. I took a shower, and when I came out, she was face down on the floor.”

  The memory of the terror she felt when she had found Kaia made her shift restlessly. It was how she had found her father mere weeks ago. She spent a hellish day pacing the waiting room, braced for the worst. The fact that Kaia pulled through was nothing short of a miracle.

  “I knew it would take too long for an ambulance to come. I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to pick her up and get her in the truck. It was snowing, and I couldn’t see very well. I haven’t driven a stick shift in years. I was worried we wouldn’t get there in time…” She shivered and drew the quilt tighter around her. “Once we got there, they told me she needed open heart surgery.”

  “You kept a cool head and did what you had to.”

  She glanced at him over the edge of the quilt, then quickly averted her gaze. The clothes and warm light playing over his face made him seem more approachable and down to earth, which was a damn lie.

  “It was meant to be that I was here when she needed someone,” she said.

  “You saved her life.”

  She rose, unable to take his proximity or his attempt to play the grateful son. Not even an hour ago, he had freely admitted he wasn’t sure he would come to Kaia’s aid even though she had a heart attack. She wasn’t going to be manipulated into feeling whatever he wanted her to.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “Food,” she snapped as she headed to the kitchen with the quilt wrapped around her like a cape.

  She turned on the gas stove and filled a kettle with hot water. Why hadn’t she thought of making tea earlier? She opened the oven, which she had remembered to turn off after she’d gotten Kaia in the truck, thank God. She was forced to shed the quilt so she could slice the cornbread. Roth loomed in the entry, but she ignored him and exchanged the screeching kettle for a pot of chili. She made two cups of peppermint tea but didn’t offer the second one to him. She left it on the counter and was petty enough to give him the most emasculating mug Kaia had—a goofy, grinning bear. He had to take sips between two round ears. She wasn’t sure if his masculinity could take the hit, but that wasn’t her problem. She took her first gulp and was suffused with warmth.

  “Did you get your inheritance, or did he shaft you in the end and leave you with nothing?” he asked, interrupting her moment of tranquility.

  Her eyes cut to him over the top of her glass. He leaned against the wall, composed and at ease with the bear mug in hand. She was miffed to see that, paired with his outfit, the cup didn’t look as ridiculous as she had hoped. She ignored his question and stirred the chili.

  “You didn’t like the terms of his trust,” he surmised when she didn’t respond. “You didn’t get a cut even though you went back and played the perfect daughter. That’s why you came to Colorado. You’re on the run again.”

  Her jaw ached from clenching her teeth. She made a monumental mistake when she confided her hopes and fears to him. She handed him every weapon he needed to dissect and manipulate her.

  “Did you really think Maximus would treat you like your sisters if you left me? He’s a fucking bastard.”

  She whirled to face him with a wooden spoon covered in chili in hand. She jabbed it in his direction and didn’t care that chili splattered over the floor. “Don’t talk about him like that!”

  She raised the spoon as he approached. He stopped just out of swiping distance and set the empty bear mug on the counter with a finality she didn’t like. When he leaned forward, she prepared to smack him, but he didn’t reach for her. Instead, he skewered her with eyes that glittered with banked rage.

  “Your father was no saint,” he said. “He publicly disowned and humiliated you.”

  “I know what he did,” she said through clenched teeth. “My broken engagement ruined his partnership with Parker Baldwin. He lost millions.”

  “Don’t make excuses for him.”

  “I’m used to business coming first.” She gave him a pointed look. “I’d think you out of all people would understand that.”

  They stared at one another, their past pulsing in the air between them.

  “My father changed,” she said quietly.


  “I doubt that.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. It’s done. He’s gone.”

  “It’s only just begun,” he countered. “We’ll see how Colette and Ariana handle Hennessy & Co without his guidance.”

  She lifted her chin. “My sisters have been handling the company for years. They’ll be fine.”

  “Did he leave a portion of Hennessy & Co to you?”

  She frowned. “Why would he? I haven’t been involved in the company since I was twenty-three.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t contribute to the company.”

  She raised a brow. “Aren’t you the one who told me I was no good at business?”

  “You had the right mind, not the right heart.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  He pointed at her. “Right there.”

  “What?”

  “Too much emotion.”

  She was surprised the wooden spoon didn’t crack under the pressure she exerted. “You’re not so staid yourself.”

  “It depends on the topic.”

  “Right.” Business and sex were the only things that made him show his true emotions. Everything else didn’t blip on his radar.

  “You follow the rules and don’t have the heart to take from others. Your sisters do.”

  She squashed the pang of resentment. It was clear he admired her sisters who were following in their father’s footsteps. He was right. She didn’t have the heart to play the high stakes game her family thrived in. Roth had more in common with her family than she did. If Roth had the right pedigree, her father would have welcomed him with open arms. Instead, Roth’s businesses had been destroyed when her father discovered their affair and he had been forced to go overseas to rebuild.

  “What did Maximus leave you?” Roth asked.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “You assumed he didn’t leave me anything.”

  “I doubt he changed, but there’s always room for error. Am I wrong?”

  “You’re obsessed with his trust.”

  “Everyone’s curious.”

  “You seem more curious than most.”

  He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I can’t help wanting to know how he divided his fortune.”

  “You’re the last person I’d confide in.”

  He eyed her for a long moment before he said, “Chili’s boiling.”

  She whirled and whipped the pot off the fire before it burned. “Get out of here! You’re distracting me.”

  She reached for a cabinet, letting it swing open close enough to his face to make him back off. After he left the tiny kitchen, she made another cup of tea. She left the quilt on the counter so she could carry her tea and food back into the living room. Roth had built the fire into a blaze, so she sat and basked in the heat before she dug in. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until she took her first bite. She was halfway through her meal when he joined her. He sat on the opposite end of the couch and propped his boots on the raised hearth. They ate in silence. She went back for seconds and made another pot of tea. When she finished, she curled up in her corner of the couch with the quilt wrapped around her. Now that she was clean, fed, and warm, she relaxed.

  The sound of the crackling fire soothed her fried nerves and blocked out the storm raging outside. She silently willed Mother Nature to calm the fuck down so she could get out of here. Women had an obligation to help each other out, right?

  She stiffened when Roth returned from the kitchen and settled beside her. The damn couch was too small and not that comfortable. Like everything Kaia owned, it was old and in desperate need of an update. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Roth angled in her direction. He rested his knee on the cushion between them and draped his arm along the back of the couch.

  He said nothing.

  He thrived on other’s discomfort. She could feel his eyes moving over her. She inwardly bristled and tried to don an indifferent expression, but she was out of practice. Roth knew how to get under people’s skin and was doing a damn good job of using that skill on her now.

  “Stop it,” she said when she couldn’t take it any longer.

  “Stop what?”

  “Staring at me.”

  “Make me.”

  She turned her head and locked eyes with him. She couldn’t read him worth a damn. She wasted two years trying to get in his head before she realized she would never understand him. How could she when he categorized everything in terms of profit and loss? She wasn’t capable of being as brutally calculating as he was. Memories of that night in London seeped into her mind, and she looked away.

  “Tell me about Thalia Crane.”

  Her head whipped around so fast, she felt a streak of pain in her neck. She couldn’t have heard right… but his calm, expectant expression said she wasn’t having a nightmare. He knew. Oh. My. God. Her need to flee was so strong, her eyes moved to the door.

  “You won’t get far,” he said quietly.

  Chapter 3

  She covered her face with her hands and moaned. No, this couldn’t be happening. She rocked back and forth as if she were locked in fervent prayer—and she was. If God made her vanish in a puff of smoke or just struck her dead, she would be eternally grateful. Anything to save her from this.

  “You hit it big writing about our affair, the scandal, being disowned, about our sex life—”

  She dropped her hands to declare, “It’s loosely based on us.”

  “The virgin scene is position by position our first time.”

  She wrapped her hands around her throat because she could feel it closing. “Y-you read…?”

  He tapped his fingers on the back of the couch as his mouth curved into a mocking smile. “All four.”

  Bile rose. “Some of the scenes are us but…”

  “That scene in the alley was us. That’s when we discovered you have a thing for doing it in public—”

  “Roth!” She was torn between pummeling him to make him shut up or locking herself in Kaia’s room and freezing to death. She didn’t like either option. Her head felt as if it was going to explode. “If you read the books, you know that Rex, the guy who represents you, has been in and out of the series so,” she said with heavy emphasis, leaning toward him to make her point, “it. Isn’t. Us. Obviously.”

  “I think they may get back together in book five.”

  “They don’t,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Have you finished it?”

  It was what she was writing before her father had died. “No.”

  “Do your sisters know about your pen name?”

  “No.”

  “Does anyone know?”

  “Less than five people on the planet,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Now six.”

  “I hate you.”

  “In the books, you love me.”

  Her back went ramrod straight. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “I’m partial to the first book. It has the best sex scenes if I do say so myself.”

  She erupted from the couch and stood, hands fisted at her sides. “Shut up, or I swear to God, I’m going to shoot you!”

  The fact that Roth read the books, which documented most of their affair and then some… Her feelings for him were in black and white. So were their sexual preferences and fetishes. She hadn’t held back when she wrote it. Why would she? She had the protection of a pen name, and she wasn’t going to tell anyone about it. Ever. And now… she couldn’t handle this.

  “If you shoot me, you’d be killing off one of the main characters.”

  She let out a strangled yell as she stalked away from him. The bathroom was the only sanctuary in the cabin aside from Kaia’s bedroom. Impulsively, she ducked into the bedroom and slammed the door. She turned the old-fashioned lock and was on her way to the bed when the door opened.

  She whirled, and bellowed, “Get out!”

  He leaned against the doorjamb. “Just so you know, none of the lock
s work.”

  “But the doors do, so get out.”

  “If anyone should be upset, it’s me. You never asked for my permission.”

  She gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

  “The guy has my build, my face, my words, and my background. I’m surprised no one else figured it out. Those books are everywhere. Soon, it’ll be made into a movie, and then everyone will know.”

  “I based the characters and situations on real things, but everything else is made up. No one suspects anything.”

  He surveyed her through hooded eyes. “How much of it’s true?”

  “What do you mean?”

  When he came toward her, she looked around for a weapon, but the only thing in the spartan room worth hurling at him was an old lamp or a Bible. Fuck.

  He stopped two feet away. He didn’t look amused any longer. He was deadly serious.

  “I didn’t cheat on you.”

  Her blood ran cold. “What?”

  “In the book, you leave your husband because you found out he was cheating. I didn’t cheat on you.”

  Oh, God. This couldn’t be happening. “The books are fiction,” she said through numb lips.

  “But you divorced me, just like the woman in the book.”

  He wasn’t shying away from their past, he was diving right in. Damn him for being so confrontational. This was her worst nightmare. “I didn’t know when I started the series that the couple wouldn’t stay together. Cheating was just a way to break them up.”

  “You mean us.”

  She ground her teeth. “The characters started out like us, but now they’re their own thing.”

  “So you didn’t go on a fuck fest after you left me?”

  “What happened after you is none of your business.”

  Her muscles locked as he crowded her, blocking out the rest of the room and intimidating her with his size.

  “You’ll always be my business,” he growled.

  “That’s all I ever was to you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She tried to walk around him, but he grabbed her arm. When she struggled, he gave her a shake that rattled her teeth.