Page 213 of The Heart of Winter

"I was so elated when they called to tell me they’d found you both alive, and sent me the recording. Only then did I see your kiss."

Thud, thud, thud.

My heart was so loud I had to focus extra hard on his words, they were becoming barely audible.

"For that reason, I wasn’t sure if it would be healthy, for either of you, to be working here together."

Something coiled tight inside me, like wire being wound too tightly. I stood frozen near the shelves, and from one of the photos, teenage Sariel looked back at me with those wide eyes.

Jacob shot me a brief glance, like he was testing my reaction, but when he saw how carefully I kept my composure, he turned his eyes back to the city skyline.

"Then I realized—I’m a businessman, first and foremost. And without you, this company isn’t what it used to be. Lorens and Durden are decent managers, but they’re not your replacement. And the rest of the directors? They’re just yes-men. They don’t have half your brain or your work ethic. It wasn’t until you were gone that I truly understood what I’d lost."

I didn’t know exactly where this speech was headed. But I knew one thing: I had to stay perfectly calm and show no emotion. Jacob hated displays of nerves. He had zero tolerance for people who lost their cool, and I knew making a good impression on him could still matter.

"…That’s why, despite what I saw on the drone footage, I’ve decided to restore your position."

Another short glance. Unreadable and cold.

"I want you to know, though, Sariel is no longer your subordinate. I’ve transferred him to Werner’s division, two floors separate you. As you know, it’s a small department, but completely independent from the other directors. I think that’ll be a healthier arrangement. You two won’t have to run into each other every day."

I still didn’t say anything. The technical details he was throwing at me were just a smokescreen, something to hide the real issue underneath. What he was really addressing was his absolute disapproval of the closeness between me and Sariel.

How… not surprising.

Eventually, maybe because of my silence, Jacob stepped away from the window and walked back toward me, pinning me with his eyes. I hadn’t moved. Still standing in the same position.

"I want to tell you something. Maybe you already know it, maybe you suspect it. But I feel I should say it out loud, and perhaps offer you a better way to handle this… because I believe I’ve chosen the right path myself."

His voice turned icy now, like that island where I’d spent three weeks. And just like that island, Jacob had a volcano in him too, ready to blow at any moment.

Then the words came:

"All these years you’ve worked here, I’ve liked you, Winter. Not just as an employee."

Of course, I didn’t respond. He wasn’t telling me anything I hadn’t already guessed, though hearing it from his own lips was… surreal. That harsh, disciplined face saying those words, such a strange contrast.

How do you tell someone you like them, while making it crystal clear that everything about those feelings is wrong and shameful? Jacob had perfected it.

"Still, not once did I ever act on it. I never crossed that line, even though I wanted to. Believe me."

He paused, like he was offering me a chance to speak. But I didn’t give him the satisfaction. I just looked at him, keeping my face as unreadable as his.

"I expect the same level of restraint from you, Winter."

His dark blue irises, intense, bored into me like steel blades.

"And let me assure you, it is possible. To feel drawn to someone, and still do nothing about it." He raised his chin with pride. "I’m a man who believes in principles. In honesty. In integrity. I would never betray my husband, no matter what my biological nature might crave."

Slowly, he lifted his hand and laid it on the photo frame with Sariel’s picture inside.

"I understand that your situation with my son is different. Because of that island, you both went through a whole other level of intensity. But I still believe it’s not a situation beyond control." His eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed.

"Can you promise me that, Winter? That you’ll show the same restraint with my son?"

A quiet puff of air left my lungs.

I wanted to laugh. In his face. I also wanted to cry. But I didn’t.

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