Page 36 of Wintertime Heat (Holiday 1)

Back in college, her drunk ex-boyfriend had broken into our apartment and mistaking me for her in the dark, he had crawled into my bed.

I had managed to knock him out at some point, but it had been too late.

The man had been mortified and kept apologizing, and I had been so shaken and upset that I never reported it.

I thought that I had moved on from that. I had been so sure that I wasn’t going to let one incident ruin my life.

Today, when I walked into the restaurant, I had been confident. But the minute his hand crawled up my leg, all those memories resurged.

A firm hand clasped around mine, forcing me out of my dark thoughts.

I met Steven’s steady gaze, “You’re safe now.”

I held on to those three words as a lifeline.

I thought that the presence of another man would have made the situation worse, but Steven’s presence felt like a firm wall that I could lean against.

So, I just let my eyes linger on our enjoined hands and try to breathe slowly to calm myself down.

“Come on. We’re here.”

I look out the window to see a huge mansion.

Although it was night, the entire place was very well-lit. The gardens were covered with snow and what appeared to be a fountain statue, had a stream of water emitting from it that was frozen.

I gingerly step out the car, sliding my hands into the arms of the coat.

Even as it dwarfed me, I snuggled into it, smelling Steven’s unique scent on it.

His arm loop around my waist as he guides me to the front steps of what was the biggest house I had ever seen.

“You live here?” I ask, my teeth chattering with the cold and shock.

My hand swivel to right, to take in the huge pillars and I hear a warm chuckle from him, as he admits, “It was a wedding gift from my grandparents. My grandmother has a fascination with architecture. She designed this whole place.”

I blink, “They live here with you?”

“No, they live in Ireland.”

The door opens and an elderly man in a black suit studies us, “Welcome back, Master Tanner.”

“Um,” I say, awkwardly. “Hi.”

The man

gives me a kind look, “Good evening. Should I prepare some dry clothes for your guest, Master Tanner?”

“I’d appreciate that, Jarvis. Have them sent to my room.”

The hallway was well-lit, and I gaped at the array of paintings on the wall.

“I knew you were rich, but I thought you just lived in some fancy penthouse,” I mutter. “Are you sure you’re not royalty?”

Steven grins, relaxing at the fact that I was sufficiently distracted from my shitty experience, “I do have some royal blood in me from my father’s side.”

The staircase was wide, and spiralling, and the bannister shone as if it had been freshly polished. The marble floor under me had a different sort of sheen, reflecting the pale golden lights that lit the hallway.

He guides me to an elevator in the next room and I blink.

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