Two Years Earlier – Late November
The Vane Tower was usually a tomb of silence by 9:00 PM, but the merger with Sterling Corp had kept the lights burning on the executive floor for three weeks straight.
Julian was at his breaking point. He sat at his desk, rubbing his temples, surrounded by legal briefs and cold takeout. He was a man who prided himself on being a machine, but even machines wear down.
The door creaked open. He expected a janitor; he got Clara.
She wasn't wearing her usual polished blazer. She had her sleeves rolled up, a stray lock of hair falling out of her neat bun, and she was carrying two steaming mugs.
"I told you to go home four hours ago, Miss Evans," Julian said, his voice gravelly from disuse.
"And I told you that you'd forget to eat if I did," she countered softly. She didn't wait for an invitation. She walked over and swapped his stack of contracts for a mug of hot cocoa—topped with an absurd amount of whipped cream.
Julian stared at the mug as if it were an alien artifact. "I don't drink sugar, Clara."
"You do tonight. You look like you're about to collapse, and caffeine will just give you the shakes. Drink it."
She sat on the edge of his desk—a bold move that would have gotten anyone else fired—and just stayed there. She didn't talk about work. She started telling him a ridiculous story about her cat getting stuck in a grocery bag that morning.
For the first time in a decade, Julian Vane laughed. It was a short, rusty sound, but it felt like a dam breaking. He looked up at her, really looked at her, and realized she wasn't just his secretary. She was the only person who saw the man behind the title.
As she reached over to take his empty mug, her hand brushed his. The contact was brief, but Julian felt a jolt of electricity so fierce it nearly winded him. In that moment, the "Ice King" realized he was in grave danger of melting.
He had spent the next two years building walls of professionalism specifically to keep her out—because he knew that if he ever let her in, he’d never want her to leave.
Back to the Present...
The fire in the suite had burned down to glowing embers. Julian held Clara tighter in the dark, his chin resting on top of her head. He remembered that night with the cocoa. He remembered every night he’d stayed late just to hear her voice.
"What are you thinking about?" Clara whispered into the crook of his neck, her breath warm against his skin.
Julian tightened his grip, pulling her so close there wasn't a sliver of cold air between them. "About how long I've been waiting for this storm," he admitted.their passionate love begins.
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