Page 2 of Hotter on Ice

The tiniest hint of a smile tugged at the uninjured corner of his mouth. Heat was rising into her cheeks, as he studied her in the quiet room. She studied him right back.

“Max should be right in,” he finally said, gesturing to the conference table. “You know how this works.”

Yes, she did. She had sat across from Max at this table many times, going over her security details. But never once had she been so fully aware of each breath, each movement, the way she was right now with Henning.

Alya took a seat and flipped open the folder in front of her, skimming through the papers in it. Henning sat down facing her, silent, alert, an overwhelming physical presence. He radiated a protectiveness that wrapped around her, settling inside her. It was the same feeling she had gotten over the phone, somehow both calming and incredibly engaging. In person, it was magnified a thousand times.

She glanced up to find his gaze fixed on her, his dark eyes unreadable. The old Alya, the woman who had gotten herself tangled up with Nick Bancroft back in LA, would have looked away. That version of herself had given up her jobs and friends three years ago and fled the country when Nick wouldn’t leave her alone, despite the restraining order. But she wasn’t that woman anymore, so Alya stared back at him. He was a solid, motionless mountain of a man, with hulking shoulders and thick biceps that stretched the material of his shirt. His power and prowess were controlled but not at all concealed, as if his body was a well-honed tool, ready for use.

The current between them ran hotter, and with every breath, heat coiled inside her. But she couldn’t mistake this strong, immediate pull between them for something more than it was—plain sexual interest. She had been down that road of powerful attraction before, and it led to disaster. She searched for something to say. “So...you ever been to Sweden before?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither. Cold, dark and snowy this time of the year, I hear.”

“Yep.”

“Not my favorite conditions, but my agent thinks the photo shoot plus theBehind the Runwaydocumentary filming, with its daily YouTube outtakes, is too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

“Mmm.”

She bit back a sigh. He wasn’t giving her any help here but seemed perfectly content to just watch her talk. Thankfully, the click of the conference-room door ended this one-sided conversation.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Alya,” Max said, striding over to the table. “I trust you and Henning introduced yourselves.”

That was certainly an understatement. Her former bodyguard seemed oblivious to the tension between Henning and her, but knowing Max, she couldn’t be certain.

Wordlessly Henning opened the folder on the table in front of him. The muscles of his forearms rippled and flexed as he sifted through the stack of papers with large, blunt fingers. He pulled out a document and showed it to her.

“Here’s the master schedule for the week,” he said. “It includes flights, hotel contacts, dinners, photo sessions and interviews.”

He walked her through the details of each day as Alya followed along on the pages. His voice was gravelly and deep, as if whatever had scarred his face had roughed up the inside of him too. He was a practical speaker, his sentences short and clipped, his answers no longer than absolutely necessary. Pretty much the exact opposite of Max.

“The chances of Nick Bancroft showing up are very low,” said Henning, closing his folder. “It also helps that the Icehotel is in a remote corner of northern Sweden. We have plenty of warning when anyone flies into the tiny Kiruna airport.”

She didn’t doubt that. What he didn’t say was that he had all sorts of connections from his Australian Federal Police days that fed him information when he needed it. And with the kind of details he found, she was pretty sure the routes couldn’t all be legal. But she was starting to get the feeling that Henning did things his own way.

“Blackmore Inc. has done an amazing job at keeping Nick out of my life. I’m not worried.” She sat up straighter in her chair. “I considered going on this trip without security, but if he showed up and I had to deal with him alone, he’d make sure to stir up public drama. Public displays of personal problems are toxic in my industry, and Nick has already hijacked my career once.”

There were models whose lives played out in the tabloids. Drugs, tantrums, drive-through marriages and bitter custody battles—the world had an insatiable hunger for these kinds of stories. She had been at the center of one of those stories three years ago when, after Nick wouldn’t leave her alone, despite the restraining order, he’d publicly called her emotionally unstable under the guise of worry. She had worked so hard to keep their break-up quiet, but when he twisted her own words into evidence that she was becoming increasingly erratic, just like her mother, the press had been all too ready to pick up that story. Each move to distance herself from Nick became another example of her “irrational” behavior, another incident he used against her in the court of public opinion. All because ultra-rich, ultra-privileged Nick Bancroft had decided he wanted something—her—and he always got what he wanted.

Never again would she let that happen.

Henning was watching her closely. “Nick won’t get to you.”

The hot intensity in his eyes flared for one, brief moment, and then it was gone. A flush crept up her neck. Five days with Henning next to her—two on a plane and three at the Icehotel in Sweden. Was his effect on her obvious? She glanced at Max to gauge his reaction, but he was looking at the paper in front of him.

“I understand what I’m getting into by taking this job,” she said quietly. “Sasha Federov probably wouldn’t have given me this chance to represent his brand if my mother didn’t still hold her cult-like status in Russia. I’m sure he’s expecting me to follow in her footsteps, not just as a model but as an attention magnet. But in my agent’s words, I need to grab this chance and hold on to it. Even if it means being followed around by a documentary crew.”

Max nodded. “Henning will be connected with the team here if there’s anything you need to be aware of. You’ll be in good hands.” He lifted an eyebrow. “But I think you already know that.”

Yeah, she absolutely did. But now that they were in the same room together, the idea of spending the next five days with this man was getting more...complicated.

“Have a safe trip,” said Max, standing up.

Alya walked over and hugged him. “Thanks for everything.”

He had been part of her support system for over three years, and now their professional relationship was over. But the fact that he was at her and Natasha’s apartment almost daily meant this was far from goodbye. With one more nod at both of them, Max left.