I am the Queen, and I will not be disrespected in my own land.
When I get to the front door, a footman is already waiting with my hat and jacket. I slip them on, then tug gloves on over my hands. It’s warm enough not to wear them in summertime, but I feel like I’m donning armor before a battle. The footman holds up a mirror and I check my hair, then walk to the palace’s front doors.
Frederick is there. He nods. “He rented an office in the city,” my personal secretary explains. “Not hard to find. We can send a car for him if you’d rather stay here—”
“No.” I don’t want Asher in my castle. I want him in his shitty little office, and I want to make him feel small. I want to fill up that space with my staff and my presence and show him exactly who I am. But I don’t tell Frederick that, because I don’t have to explain my reasons for wanting to go to Asher. I don’t need to explain anything to anyone.
My anger winds tighter when I think of Asher’s office—an office! He’s here a few days and he’s already rented an office! The fucking nerve.
Two staff members open the double doors for me, and another staff member stands at the back door of the waiting vehicle. I slide inside, tucking my feet in as the man closes the car door. My face is unmoving, my jaw clenched. My heart feels hot. Too hot. Like it might burn a hole right through my chest.
But it thumps, and I haven’t felt my heart beat this hard in—well, since I was last with Asher. This is different, though. This is righteous, burning anger.
I lean into the feeling, letting my thoughts circle back to his excuses. Too busy to come to Nord, he reckoned. How dare he. How dare Asher use me like that, then turn around and think he can establish his company here. How dare he touch me and kiss me and put his—ugh—put his cock in me, then leave the wedding and say nothing to me? Then he thinks he can come here and start a business? Ha! He thinks he’s some brilliant businessman? The best closer in his family’s history? Give me a fucking break.
My hands don’t tremble as we drive through the streets of Stirling. My pulse hammers, but my body behaves. Anger settles into my pores, making me feel bigger and taller and stronger than I’ve felt before.
When we stop in front of a tall office building, a security car in front and another behind, I see heads turn. Royal security agents stream out of the two cars, standing next to my vehicle and the front door of the building as my driver rushes to open my door.
I hear a gasp when I exit the car, as passersby point their phones at me to record my entrance to the building. I turn to look, lifting an arm to wave. I don’t smile, but that’s nothing new. No one expects me to smile. Ice Queens don’t smile for photos.
Agents surround me as we walk into the building. The lobby is vast, with marble tiles on the floor climbing up the walls. Very fancy, Gerhard. Prick.
We ignore the reception desk, where a woman stands with her head bowed. My security team leads me to the elevators, where one agent is already waiting with the elevator door open.
My head is held high. My steps ring out in the vast space. I keep my face steady and hide my rage under layers of ice.
For the second time in two weeks, after twenty years of absence, I’m going to see Asher Gerhard. This time, though, I can guarantee it won’t end the way it did the first time. No one will be kissed. No one will touch my body. No one will make me feel like anything other than the reigning monarch of the Kingdom of Nord.
I’m not the little girl Asher used to know anymore. I won’t be used and tossed aside. I won’t be disrespected like this.
If he wants to do business in Nord, Asher Gerhard better get on his knees and beg.
8
Asher
Penelope walks into my office with fire in her eyes. Her anger is palpable. It rushes toward me as soon as I look up from my desk, hitting me in the chest like a poison-tipped spear. The air feels thick around her, as if every molecule in the room vibrates according to her will. Her security agents stream into the room as she strides forward, then filter out when she waves her hand.
She moves to the tall windows lining the interior wall of my office, flicking a switch that closes the automatic blinds. We’re alone, which sends excitement tripping down my spine. I bury it down, knowing Penelope isn’t here for a repeat of what happened at Prince Gabriel’s wedding. I can hardly believe she’s here at all.
Clearing my throat, I stand. “Penelope.”
“Sit. Down.” Blazing eyes stare at me, and a dagger of heat pierces my stomach. I like the way she looks at me. Like she wants to tear me limb from limb and send me back to Farcliff in pieces.
Why does that make my blood rush between my legs? There’s something seriously wrong with me.
The Queen takes a step forward, letting her eyes drop down my body and back up again. Her full, pink lips are pressed together, but I can’t forget how it felt to kiss them.
Shame is sour at the back of my throat. I know why she’s mad. I know why she’s here. Does she know about Donovan? Does she know I figured it out from what she said about him?
I knew it was a betrayal. She has a right to be mad—but damn, she looks good. Wearing a navy pantsuit and a gauzy, pearl-colored blouse, the Queen stands with her feet together and her hands clasped in front of her, a crumpled newspaper dangling between her fingers. Her chin is high, and I see two glittering stones winking from either earlobe.
She’s powerful in her femininity. Completely in charge. Completely, utterly furious.
Lowering myself onto my chair, I bow my head. “I wasn’t expecting you,” I say, lifting my eyes as my head stays bowed. I watch her throat clench as she swallows, her eyes flicking from me, to my desk, to my father’s company logo on the wall. A decal sticker has already been applied after moving into these offices a few days ago.
The newspaper skips across my desk when she tosses it. I catch it with my hand, flattening the crumpled page, and glance down at my own face.
“If you think you’re going to set up shop in Nord, you can think again, Mr. Gerhard.” The Queen’s voice is so cold, my heart slows down. Frost clings to every surface as I crawl my gaze up to meet hers. The only thing not completely still is my raging heart.
“Pen—”
“Call me anything but Your Majesty again, and I’ll have you deported within the hour.”
My lip twitches, but I will myself not to smirk. Why am I enjoying this? Am I so sick in the head that I like feeling the emotion pulse through her? Do I enjoy her anger?
…or do I deserve this kind of rage, and I’m enjoying the punishment I think is owed to me?
Sighing, I pull open a drawer and take out a bottle of amber alcohol. Whiskey—my weakness. Well, that and powerful, angry women. I need a drink to take off the edge and give myself time to let my body cool down. How can I explain this deal with Donovan? How can I tell her that I wasn’t using her when we had sex, I just figured it out based on the hint she dropped? It was…an accident.
Heat curls in lazy circles down my stomach, resting somewhere between my legs. My cock throbs at her nearness, remembering how it felt to have the Queen of Nord bent over in front of me with her skirt bunched around her waist.
“Drink?” I ask, taking out two crystal tumblers.
“Tell me something, Asher,” the Queen says, turning to look at the company logo on the wall. “Do you always go after foolish women when you want a quick lay? Do you always tell them you’re too busy to see them afterward?”
“I wouldn’t call you foolish.” I pour two drinks, sliding one across the table toward her.
“So that’s a yes?” She arches a brow, swinging her icy gaze to meet mine.
I throw my drink back, swallowing it in one gulp. Putting the empty glass down, I shake my head. “I never planned for that to happen.”
“What, you and me?”
I nod, throat tightening. “And coming here. I meant it when I said I was busy in Farcliff.”
She stares at me for a moment, as if she’s trying to g
auge whether I’m lying or not. “I didn’t think it would happen either, but I was stupid enough to follow you to that dirty room. Stupid enough to bend over like you wanted me to.”
Images flash in my mind, and I will myself to keep my face steady. There’s so much bitterness in her voice that it makes my heart ache. “Do you regret it that much?”
“Hmm, let’s see,” Penelope says, taking a step toward me to lean over the desk that separates us. She smells like sweet candy with a hint of rose. “You made me feel like a cheap, used whore, then walked away without saying goodbye. So, yes, I regret it.”
“There’s nothing cheap about you, Pen, and you used me as much as I did you.”
“Is that right?” Her delicate fingers touch the edge of her glass of whiskey, and I half-expect her to grip it tight and toss it at my face. Instead, she drinks it down as fast as I did, grimacing. “You have terrible taste in whiskey.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all day.”
“Fuck you.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be the Queen? That’s no way for a monarch to talk.”
Fire sparks in the pit of my gut when Penelope’s hands grip the edge of the desk. I can taste her anger on my tongue, and I want more. I want to taste every part of her. Angry, hot, and alive.
“I will never let you work here. You can take your father’s business and walk away right now, because the Gerhard Corporation will not do business in Nord, Asher.”
A groan escapes my lips before I can stop it. It’s just…the way she says my name makes my gut clench. I haven’t felt this alive in years. I keep my face steady, my gaze clashing with hers. “Why not? I haven’t even applied for a business license. As far as you’re concerned, I’m a tourist…a tourist with an office in downtown Stirling.”
“And it’s going to stay that way.” Her eyes don’t leave mine, and—I want to kiss her. Right here. Like this. I want to stalk to the other side of this desk, roll that designer dress over her waist, and bury myself inside her. I want to swallow her anger whole and have her come apart on my cock.
I want everything she’ll give me. Every part of her. Anything. All of it.
Catching her fingers across the desk before she can move away, I press my lips against them.
Penelope gasps, her eyes widening. Yanking her hand away, she slaps me across the face. Hard. I suck in a breath, gripping the edge of my chair. Pain explodes across my cheek as I grunt, turning back to face her.
“I could have you arrested, Asher.” There’s an edge to her voice now. A slight tremble. The ice is cracking.
I shouldn’t taunt her, but I like seeing her like this. I like watching her come apart. The mask is slipping, and I feel like I’m seeing the real her—even if she wants to slap me around and throw me in jail. A wicked, smoky smile spreads across my face. “Does that involve handcuffs? Because I could get on board with that.”
The Queen slaps me again, harder this time. I probably deserve it. I gasp, skin burning. My teeth grind together and I speak through a clenched jaw. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“Neither was you using me then tossing me aside without even telling me you’d be coming here. You said you were too busy for Nord. Too busy for me.” Her bottom lip trembles ever so slightly as her eyes grow watery.
Is that why she’s mad? Because I came here without telling her? Because I left Gabriel’s wedding without talking to her? My heart twists painfully. I…I don’t want her to look at me like that, like I’m the cause of her pain. Dropping my head, I shake it from side to side. “I’m sorry, Pen.” Glancing up, I meet her gaze. “I mean, Your Majesty. Please don’t arrest me.”
Penelope sinks into a chair across from me, deflating as she leans back. She looks…exhausted. Worn out.
Hurt.
Because of me?
When I was in my father’s office, I didn’t think she’d pay me a visit. I thought I’d never see her again. I thought, maybe, she wouldn’t even notice, even though I hoped… I don’t know what I hoped. Maybe I hoped for exactly this. I wanted to see her again, but she’s a queen and what am I? I’m not someone beautiful women chase. With these scars covering my body, I’m the one who makes pretty women run away. I’d never deserve someone like her.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me again.”
Penelope flicks her eyes up to mine, icy blue and vulnerable. My chest aches. Every thump of my heart feels like it’s cracking ribs, so I look away. I grab my glass and the bottle of whiskey, moving around the desk and sinking into the chair next to hers. I fill up both our glasses, my fingers brushing Penelope’s as I hand her the tumbler. My skin sizzles at the contact, heat rushing up my arm.
She takes a sip, wrinkling her nose. “My earlier comment stands.”
“I didn’t know you were a whiskey connoisseur.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” Her eyes stare out through the window behind my desk, and my heart does that painful twist again.
I stare at her profile from my seat next to hers, unable to look away from her neck, her jaw, those perfect lips I haven’t stopped thinking about since I kissed them. Before I can stop my hand, my fingers are drifting over her cheek. Her perfect, smooth skin. Unmarked. Unscarred.
Her scars are hidden.
Penelope doesn’t flinch away from my touch. She closes her eyes, letting my fingers drift down her cheek and over her jaw. Her skin feels like warm satin. I never want to stop touching her. I’d run my hands over her body for hours at a time, just to prove to myself she’s real. She exists. This beautiful creation is alive, and she’s doing me the honor of letting me caress her skin. “I wanted to see you again, Pen. I was curious when you said you were talking to mining executives, so I pitched the trip to my father as a business trip.” That’s…mostly true, right? Penelope hasn’t mentioned Donovan—does she know about the merger? I pause, trying to find the right words. “What I really wanted was to see you.”
It’s not a lie, exactly. But it’s not the full truth. My motivations weren’t altruistic. I came here to find out more about Reginald Donovan, to make sure I can cut his legs off at the knee and ensure this merger goes through. But is that the main reason? What really pushed me to come here? Without even having to ask myself the questions, I already know the answer. I stare at the beautiful woman next to me, letting out a sigh. “I was hoping I’d see you here.”
Penelope turns to look at me, ice-blue meeting my gaze. She searches my face. Her brows tug together and the faintest line appears on her forehead. “Why wouldn’t you just call me?”
“You’re not exactly easy to get ahold of. Do I just call up information and ask to be connected to the Queen?”
“At least you’d be making an effort.”
I grin. “I’d give my left arm to have you storm into my office like this every day.”
“Shut up, Asher. Why would you tell me you had no time to come to Nord if you were planning on setting up an office here?” Her voice is thin and reedy, and I know she’s showing a side of her that usually stays hidden. I’m…honored, but…
Still no mention of Donovan. No talk of the merger. My heart thumps as I clear my throat, staring at the wood grain on my desk. The truth sings in my veins—she doesn’t know. Doesn’t know about the merger. Doesn’t know why my father really sent me here.
I know I’m hiding something from her. Maybe you would call it lying. Hell, who am I kidding? It’s a lie. I should tell her about the merger, about Donovan, about everything.
Penelope hasn’t so much as mentioned Donovan’s name—her main complaint is the fact that I didn’t tell her I was planning on coming here. But if I tell her about the merger with Donovan Enterprises, will she still believe that I came here in the hopes of seeing her, too? Or will she feel angry and used?
Swinging my eyes to stare at Penelope, there’s a tightening in my chest. A deep kind of pain at the thought of losing her again, letting her walk away fro
m me. So, I tell her what I really want—the thing that might be truer than any merger or business deal. “I wanted to see you, Pen. That’s why I’m here.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“I’ve heard stories about you,” she says, arching a brow.
“All good, I hope.”
Penelope lets out a dry, humorless laugh.
I bring my glass to my lips. “Do you regret what happened at the wedding?”
She pauses for…a long time. Too long. Then she whispers, “Yes.”
I wasn’t expecting that to hurt so much. My chest feels like it’s caving in, my heart squeezing into a tight ball. I nod. “Oh.”
“I don’t like feeling like this. Out of control.” She takes a sip of her whiskey. I’m so incredibly fascinated by the movement of her lips, her jaw, her throat.
“You’re completely in control, Pen.”
“What did I say about calling me that?”
My lips curl. I shrug. “Can’t help myself.” I laugh, and her eyes brighten. She stares at me, at my mouth, then back at my eyes. I let out a long sigh. “Can I see you again?”
Penelope sets her glass down on the edge of my desk. It’s mostly full, the alcohol rocking gently from side to side. She stands up, brushing her thighs as she purses her lips. “I’ll think about it.”
Her eyes are cold now. The heat is gone. But behind the chill of her voice, there’s something. An edge. A roughness. Penelope wants to see me again. She’s fighting this feeling, this connection between us.
I stand up, turning toward her. She’s so close. Her chest just an inch from mine. Her eyes staring at my chest. If she just tilted her head up, I could lean over. I could brush my lips against hers. I could taste her sweetness once more.
But the Queen clears her throat and takes a step back. She glances at me through thick lashes, then blinks away. “Sorry for slapping you. Your cheek…it’s red.”
Ice Queen: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance Page 7
