Page 141 of Frozen Hearts
Moving to stand in front of his desk, I stare down at it. The only things on his desk are his laptop and a stack of textbooks. Not spotting my phone, I start pulling open drawers and searching through them, coming up empty.
Next, I move to his bedside table.
“Ah ha.” My phone is sitting in the top drawer alongside my purse, which I had on me when Logan drugged me. Lifting both out, I bend down to sit on the edge of the bed as I tap on the screen. Nothing happens, and hoping that it isn’t dead, I press the power button, breathing out a sigh of relief when it comes to life.
“Shit.” My phone starts beeping rapidly, notification after notification popping up on the screen. Missed calls. Text messages. Most of them are from my mother. Not bothering to go through them all, I instead dial her number and bring the phone to my ear, tapping my foot as it rings.
“About time,” my mother snaps as soon as it connects.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, ignoring her sniping tone. “How is Rora?”
“She’s fine.I’mfine, too. Thanks for asking.”
“You’re still coming up tomorrow?”
“About that…” she begins, instantly raising my hackles. “It’s just not fair on Aurora.”
“Keeping her from her motherisunfair to her?” I argue, vibrating with restrained anger.
“It’s Christmas Day. She shouldn’t be spending it in a car, outside in the cold.”
Like my mother gives a fuck about my daughter’s wellbeing.
“Mom,” I growl in warning. “You agreed to this. You have yet to follow through with one of your agreements so far. I haven’t seenmydaughterin four months. You bring her tomorrow, or I won’t transfer you any money for next month.”
“You can’t do that. Youwouldn’tdo that.”
“I can and I will. I’ll pay your bills and arrange for food for you and Aurora to be delivered, but I won’t sendyouany money. You think I don’t know my daughter hardly sees a penny of that extra money?”
My threat is met with silence.
“Can I assume your silence means that you’ll be there?” I ask in the fakest of sweet tones.
“We’ll be there,” my mother grits out.
“Perfect. I’ll see you then. Don’t be late.”
I hang up before she can protest. Feeling good that, for once, I had the upper hand in our conversations. It feels good to stand up for myself. To fight back. If only I had the power to do it more often.
The sound of a key being inserted into the front door has me hurriedly powering down my phone and placing it and my purse back in Logan’s bedside table before scurrying from his room.
Descending the stairs, I don’t hear any sounds of Logan and Royce in the kitchen. “Logan?” I call, reaching the bottom step. I could have sworn I heard the front door. However, the kitchen is empty when I walk into it, and doing a quick check of the other rooms, they are the same.
Huh. Guess I imagined it.
I decide to lift bowls out of the cupboards for the snacks that Logan and Royce went to buy because you can’t have a Christmas movie marathon without enough snacks to send you into a sugar coma.
As I’m stretching up to the cupboard, I hear a floorboard creak behind me and with a spike of adrenaline, I spin in place. “Fuck.” I jump back against the countertop in fright before I recover. “Still sneaking up on people I see,” I bite angrily at Grayson, who lingers in the doorway.
I turn to dismiss him, but something seems off, and I slowly turn back around, eyes roaming over him as I take in his flushed skin, white eyes brimming with contempt. The shaking of his hands, as though he’s struggling to restrain himself. Even so, it is the palpable tension radiating from him, the negative energy pressing against my skin like a physical force. The temperature feels as though it drops as we stare at one another, and my stomach twists into a knot, making it difficult to breathe.
I swear I can see the physical cracks forming in Grayson’s armor. He’s on the verge of coming undone, and with his name on my tongue, I push him over the edge.
He lurches forward, eating up the distance between us in the blink of an eye. Before I can suck in a lungful of air, his hand is around my throat as he shoves me against the breakfast bar. He pushes me down until my back is pressed against the cold surface, a hostile glare piercing my skin as he hovers above me.
I should be shoving him away, fighting back,something, but all I can do is lie there as his fingers flex around my throat and his spitting glare burns me. I must be broken, because fear is not the predominant emotion I’m feeling, even though I’m pretty sure it’s fifty-fifty whether Grayson chooses to strangle me to death or fuck out the hate.
The situation is precarious at best, but I can see the unraveling. The turmoil that consumes him from within. He desperately wants to cling to what he knows. What he believes. But I see the doubts, the insecurities. They swirl in his dark eyes like a turbulent storm. If Grayson hopes to break out of his self-contained prison, then this is it. I may hate him, but I still remember the man he used to be, and I firmly believe that goodness is buried deep inside him, smothered beneath years of hardship, hate, and teenage angst.
