His Holiday Prohibition

THE LION’S DEN ~MAYA’S POV~ The house was not a home; it was like a cage made of glass and iron, sitting on the edge of a snowy cliff. I stood in the entrance hall, holding my old suitcase so tightly my knuckles turned white. The air inside the lodge was clean, fancy, and had no smell at all. It smelled like money. It smelled like power. "Isn't it amazing?" Chloe squealed, spinning in a circle, her designer boots clicking against the black tiled floor. "Dad had the architect fly in from Milan. The entire south wall is retractable, but obviously, we keep it closed in winter." I forced a smile, but my stomach twisted into a tight, cold knot. "It’s beautiful, Chlo. Really." It was beautiful. It was also terrifying. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered no privacy. The Aspen wilderness stretched outside, gray, white, and threatening, while we stood inside this bright glass room. I felt like a bug stuck on a board, waiting for someone to come and examine me. ‘You shouldn’t be here, Maya.’ The voice in my head had been screaming that since Chloe first invited me three weeks ago. I had tried every excuse. I had papers to write, shifts to pick up at the diner, a mother who needed help back in Chicago. But Chloe King didn't understand the word "no." To her, the world was a vending machine that handed out whatever she wanted, provided she pressed the button enough times. "Come on! Let’s pick bedrooms before Dad gets back from his call," Chloe said, grabbing my free hand and dragging me toward the floating staircase. I dug my heels in slightly. "I thought you said he was in Tokyo." "He was," she said breezily. "But he flew back early. Said something about wanting a 'quiet family Christmas.' Which is weird, because usually he spends the holidays merging companies and destroying his rivals." She laughed, a bubbly sound that bounced off the cold walls. "But hey, maybe he’s having a mid-life crisis. More presents for us, right?" My heart stopped. He was here. Silas King was here. I suddenly felt like the air in the room had been sucked out by a vacuum. If I had known he was going to be physically present in the lodge, I would have thrown myself out of the moving Uber on the way up the mountain. I hadn’t seen him in six months. Not since the Fourth of July party at their Hamptons estate. The memory flashed behind my eyes, unasked and vivid. ‘I had been coming out of the pool house, squeezing water from my hair. I was wearing a bikini that was too small, a hand-me-down from Chloe. I had turned the corner and ran straight into a wall of muscle. Silas. He hadn’t apologized. He hadn’t stepped back. He had just stood there, holding a tumbler of scotch, looking down at me. Most men looked at my chest. Silas didn't. He looked at my face, then my throat, then my stomach. He looked at me terrifyingly. It felt like he was figuring out the exact amount of much force it would take to break me. “You’re dripping on my patio, Maya,” he had said. His voice was deep, a baritone that vibrated through the soles of my bare feet. “I am sorry, Mr. King,” I stammered. “Don’t be sorry,” he had murmured, taking a step closer, forcing me to lean my head back to look him in the eye. “Just be careful. Things that are wet and slippery tend to fall.” I shook the memory away, my breath hitching in my throat. That was summer. This was winter. I am twenty-one now. I wasn't a child. I could handle a friend's grumpy dad. "Maya? Earth to Maya?" Chloe waved a hand in front of my face. "Sorry," I whispered. "It’s just... the altitude. I am a little dizzy." "You need a drink," Chloe decided. "Dad keeps the good stuff in the library. Let’s…" The sound of a heavy door closing echoed through the large space. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees in a single second. "Hello, Chloe." The voice came from the dark area below the balcony. It was quiet, soft, and sounded nice but strong. Silas King stepped into the light. He was taller than I remembered. At forty-five, he didn't have the softness of other fathers. He was built like a predator…broad shoulders straining against a charcoal fancy sweater, dark denim jeans that cost more than my tuition, and eyes that were the color of a frozen lake. His dark hair had some gray, and he styled it back. His face was sharp and rough. He was handsome, but in the way a thunderstorm is handsome. You admired it, but you knew it could kill you. "Daddy” Chloe dropped her bags and ran to him. He caught her in a hug, but his eyes didn't close. Over his daughter’s shoulder, his gaze locked onto mine. He didn't smile. He didn't blink. He looked at me with the same serious gaze I remembered, but it felt even more intense this time. It felt like he had been starving for six months, and dinner had just walked through the front door. "I didn't think you would come," he said. He wasn't talking to Chloe. Chloe pulled back, oblivious. "I told you I would convince her, Maya hates Christmas, but I told her this year would be different." Silas slowly disentangled himself from his daughter. He walked toward me. Every step was planned. The heavy boots he wore made no sound on the tiles. He moved like a wolf stalking a wounded rabbit. I fought the urge to step back. I wouldn't let him see me tremble. I was an adult. "Hello, Mr. King," I managed to say. My voice sounded thin, pathetic in the vast room. "Thank you for having me." He stopped two feet away. Close enough that I could smell him. He smelled of sandalwood, expensive tobacco, and winter air. It was a masculine, intoxicating scent that made my knees weak. He looked down at me. His eyes roamed over my face, noting the lack of makeup, the dark circles under my eyes from studying for finals. He looked at my cheap, puffy coat….a synthetic thing I had bought at Target that was already leaking feathers. His lip curled slightly. Disgust? Or something else? "You look cold," he said softly. "I am fine," I lied. "You are shivering." He reached out. I flinched. He paused, his hand hovering in the air between us. A challenge sparked in his eyes. ‘Are you afraid of me, Maya?’ Slowly, deliberately, he reached for the zipper of my coat. He shouldn't be doing this. I could take my own coat off. But I was frozen, paralyzed by the mere closeness of him. His knuckles brushed against the sensitive skin of my throat as he grasped the zipper. Currents of electricity shot down my spine. His skin was burning hot. He slowly pulled the zipper down. The sound was deafening in the quiet house. He peeled the coat off my shoulders, his hands lingering on my upper arms for a bit of a second too long. His grip was firm. Possessive. "I prefer the heat," Silas murmured, leaning in so close that his breath fanned against my ear. "I like things... warm." My breath hitched. I couldn't look at Chloe. I prayed she was on her phone. Silas took the coat from me, tossing it onto a nearby chair like it was a rag. He was looking at my dress now….a simple gray sweater dress that hugged my curves. I felt naked under his scrutiny. "Dinner is at seven," he announced, stepping back and putting his disguise of disinterest back on. "Do not be late. I don't like to wait for my food." "We won't be, Dad” Chloe chirped, already hauling her suitcase toward the stairs. "Come on, Maya, I got us the rooms in the East Wing” I grabbed my bag, eager to escape. "Coming!" I scrambled up the stairs after Chloe, my heart beating against my ribs like a trapped bird. I could feel his eyes on me. I could feel them burning a hole through the back of my dress. When I reached the landing, I made the mistake of looking back. Silas hadn't moved. He was standing in the center of the black marble floor, hands in his pockets, watching me ascend. He didn't wave. He didn't smile. He just mouthed one word. ‘Run.’ I turned and fled down the hallway, but I knew it was already too late. The doors were locked. The snow was falling. And I was trapped in the lion's den.