I've always fought off my demons on the ice. There's something about the cold, the unyielding bite of steel against the rink, that soothes me.
And yet, as I walk the seven blocks from the Litvinov Group building to my high rise, it's warmth I'm after.
Her warmth.
No woman has ever gotten under my skin like Nova Pierce. Not even Katerina, though that snake tried her best to worm her way the f**k in.
Then again, no one with even a single functional synapse left in their skull would ever accuse Katerina of being "warm."
"Where is she?" I bark as soon as I step out of the elevator.
Rolland, the lead soldier on duty, stands to attention. "Her bedroom with the dog, sir. Last I checked."
That's where she was last I checked, too.
But the dog in question bounds down the hallway, his tongue
