Chapter 13
1325 Words
The first thing Roxanne became aware of wasn't the $10,000 Italian silk sheets or the soft chirping of birds in the manicured Vane gardens. It was a weight. A heavy, warm, distinctly human weight draped across her midsection like a fallen log.
Her eyes snapped open. The room was flooded with the kind of aggressive morning sunlight that only rich people seemed to afford. For a disoriented second, she forgot she was in a gilded cage. Then, she felt the rhythmic rise and fall of a chest against her shoulder.
She froze. Slowly, she tilted her head down.
Silas Vane—the "Ice King," the man who could dismantle a shipping empire with a phone call—was fast asleep. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, one of his long legs was hooked over hers, and his arm was wrapped around her waist as if she were a life-sized pillow. The "Great Divide" they had established the night before had been thoroughly conquered.
"You've got to be kidding me," she whispered to the ceiling.
She tried to wiggle out from under him, but the movement only made him groan in his sleep and pull her closer, his grip tightening.
"Silas," she hissed, poking him in the shoulder. "Silas, wake up. The border has been breached. Red alert."
He didn't wake up. Instead, he nuzzled further into her hair, murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like, "Five more minutes, Killian."
"I am definitely not Killian!" Roxanne yelped, finally giving him a sharp elbow to the ribs.
Silas jolted awake. His eyes flew open, grey and clouded with sleep, before they cleared and landed directly on Roxanne’s face—which was about three inches away from his own. He realized the position they were in at the exact same moment she did.
In a move that could only be described as "mafia-grade reflexes," Silas scrambled backward so fast he nearly rolled off the other side of the king-sized bed. He ended up tangled in the duvet, staring at her with wide eyes, his hair standing up in a messy, dark nest.
"You... you crossed the line," Silas accused, his voice thick with sleep.
"I crossed the line?" Roxanne sat up, her silk robe slipping off one shoulder as she gestured wildly at the empty space where he had just been. "You were using me as a human weighted blanket! You were practically purring, Silas. It was traumatizing."
"I do not purr," he snapped, though a faint, betraying flush was creeping up his neck. "I must have... shifted. The mattress is too soft."
"The mattress is fine. You’re just a closet cuddler," Roxanne teased, her sass returning now that she wasn't being crushed. "Wait until Killian hears that the Don needs a teddy bear to sleep through the night."
"If you tell my brother a single word of this—"
The bedroom door didn't just open; it swung wide with the kind of confidence only a mother possesses. Elena Vane glided in, carrying a silver tray with two steaming cups of coffee and a plate of croissants.
"Good morning, my darlings!" she chirped, her face beaming with pure, unadulterated joy.
Roxanne and Silas froze. Roxanne was sitting up with bird-nest hair and a lopsided robe. Silas was half-tangled in a heap of blankets on the edge of the bed, shirtless and looking like he’d just survived a shipwreck.
Elena’s eyes darted between them, her smile widening into something truly dangerous. "Oh! Am I early? I thought I heard... vigorous conversation."
"Mother," Silas groaned, pulling a pillow over his face. "Privacy. It’s a concept. Look into it."
"Nonsense! I wanted to bring my future daughter-in-law some of my special roast," Elena said, setting the tray down on the bedside table. She looked at Roxanne with a conspiratorial wink. "He’s a bit of a grouch in the morning, isn't he, dear? It takes a strong woman to handle a Vane before breakfast."
Roxanne cleared her throat, trying to pull her dignity together. "He certainly has... a lot of energy, Elena. Truly."
"I can see that!" Elena laughed, patting the tangled heap of blankets that contained her son. "Now, hurry up and get dressed. Marcus is already in the breakfast room, and he’s in a mood because Killian forgot to bring him the morning news. We’re waiting for you."
As she glided back out, she paused at the door. "And Silas? Do try to brush your hair. You look like you’ve been through a hurricane."
The drama didn't end at the bedroom door. Fifteen minutes later, Roxanne emerged from the dressing room in a sharp, charcoal grey blazer and slim-fit trousers—her "I’m about to ruin your life" outfit. Silas was waiting by the door, back in his armor: a navy suit that fit him perfectly, every hair back in its place.
They walked down to the breakfast room, where the atmosphere was decidedly less "Warm Bear" and more "Wolf Den."
Marcus was at the head of the table, scowling at a newspaper. Killian was leaning against the sideboard, nursing a black coffee and looking like he wanted to punch the sun. Cassian was the only one who looked awake, hunched over a tablet with a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth.
"Finally," Killian grunted as they entered. "The business meetings start in an hour, Silas. We have a lot of... logistics to go over before the afternoon."
"Morning to you too, Killian," Roxanne said, sliding into a chair next to Silas. "Sleep well? Or did you spend the night staring at a wall and thinking about efficiency?"
Killian’s eyes narrowed, but he caught Silas’s warning look. "I spent the night making sure your sister’s new place was secure. You're welcome."
Roxanne’s playful mood tempered slightly. A reminder of the stakes.
"Eat, eat!" Elena said, appearing with a platter of eggs. "No business at the table. Silas, tell your brother to be nice to Roxanne. She’s the light of this house now."
"She’s a very sharp consultant, Ma," Killian muttered, picking up a piece of bacon. "I’m sure she’s used to my 'charm' by now."
"Actually," Cassian piped up, winking at Roxanne. "I was just telling Silas how impressed I am with her... strategic mind. She looked at some of the project structures this morning and found a few things our regular analysts missed. She’s got an eye for the details."
Elena beamed. "Of course she does! Silas wouldn't pick anyone less than brilliant. Marcus, isn't it wonderful? A woman who can keep up with them."
Marcus looked over the top of his paper, his gaze lingering on Roxanne. "A sharp eye is good. Just make sure you're looking in the right direction, girl."
Silas cleared his throat, his hand briefly touching Roxanne’s under the table—a grounding gesture. "We have a long day at the main offices. Killian and Cassian are coming with us. There are some internal audits I want Roxanne to oversee."
"Always working," Elena sighed, though she looked proud. "Well, just make sure you bring her back in time for tea. I want to show her the guest list for the engagement party."
"We'll be back, Mother," Silas said, standing up. He looked at Roxanne, the 'Ice King' mask fully back in place, but with a slight softening at the corners of his mouth. "Ready to go? The team is waiting."
Roxanne stood, adjusting her blazer. "Ready. Let's see what else your 'analysts' have been missing."
As they headed toward the garage, the laughter of the morning faded into the heavy, expectant silence of the Vane machine. The hunt was officially moving from the bedroom to the base.
- Writer
