Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
No more hiding. No more cages. Just her, brilliant and fierce, wearing my collar and choosing to stay. Julian and his threats be damned—I’ll give her the freedom she needs while keeping her safe. It’s long overdue for me to show her off.
She’s mine, and I want everyone to know it.
Even that fucking bastard, Julian.
Chapter Twenty-Nine Sloane
I can’t stop working. After yesterday at the rink, everything feels clearer, sharper. My hands remember the feeling of cutting across ice, that perfect edge between control and freedom. I translate it into metal and stone, working through the night, trying to capture that crystalline moment when sunlight hit the rink’s surface.
The cold has always inspired me, but yesterday reminded me why. There’s beauty in winter’s bite, in the way frost transforms ordinary things into something magical. I shape delicate silver strands into patterns that echo the ice sculptures from the rink, each piece holding that same suspended beauty.
When Hailey arrives early the next morning, she takes one look at my new designs and grins. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Whatever Cole did the other day, it worked.”
I run my hands through my hair, looking at all the work still spread across my bench. “We have so much left to do, Hailey. And the deadline’s coming up fast.”
“Hey.” She picks up one of the finished pieces—a bracelet that looks like crystallized snowflakes linked together. “Look at what we’ve already done. These are incredible, Sloane. And now that you’ve got your groove back?” She grins. “We’ll get it all done. Trust me.”
She’s right. The sketches and prototypes scattered across my workbench have an energy my earlier pieces were missing. We’re discussing setting techniques for the next piece when a stream of deliverymen interrupts us, bringing in dozens of boxes from Bergdorf’s.
Inside, I find a collection that takes my breath away—silk and velvet gowns in deep winter colors, each one more stunning than the last. A midnight blue dress with crystals scattered across the bodice like stars. An emerald silk that catches the light like aurora borealis. A deep burgundy velvet that looks like it was made for Christmas at the Met. Between the formal gowns, there are cocktail dresses in blacks and silvers, each one perfectly cut, perfectly chosen. More of Cole’s elaborate gifts, but these feel different somehow. Then I find his note tucked into the sleeve of a black gown that makes my heart skip: Time to show New York their new Ice Queen. First event Friday.
“Holy hell,” Hailey breathes, running her fingers over a silk sleeve. “He doesn’t do anything halfway, does he?”
I touch the collar at my throat unconsciously, a habit I’ve developed whenever I think about what Cole and I are to each other. Not boyfriend and girlfriend—those words seem too small for what we’ve become. His note says it all. His Ice Queen.
“The man has incredible taste,” Hailey says, lifting a midnight blue gown. “Or his personal shopper does.” She grins at me. “Makes me think I should reconsider my dating standards.”
“Oh?” I look up from the note, grateful for the distraction.
“Let’s just say my track record involves a lot of guys who think owning a motorcycle makes up for not having a job.” She holds the dress up against herself. “My last date? He told me his band was ‘about to make it big’ right before asking to borrow rent money.” She rolls her eyes. “Maybe it’s time to stop falling for guys whose only investment portfolio is their vinyl collection.”
I laugh despite my nerves. “To be fair, I wasn’t exactly looking for a billionaire.”
“No,” she says softly. “You just found someone who sees you exactly as you are.” She puts down the dress.
“We need to call Chloe—right now,” I tell Hailey, grabbing my phone. She follows me to the bedroom, where I know there are no cameras. We settle on the bed and I FaceTime Chloe with shaking hands. “He wants me to go public? Like, public public.”
“Finally!” Chloe’s face fills my screen, beaming. “I’ve been dying to post about you two on Instagram!”
“Chloe, this is serious. I’m about to become . . .” I swallow hard. “I’m about to be seen publicly with Cole Asher.”
“You’re about to become a lot more than that,” Hailey says. She lifts the black gown, letting the fabric catch the light. “You’re debuting one of the most anticipated jewelry collections of the season. Own it.”
She’s right. Again.
With my phone propped against the bedroom mirror, we start the fashion show for Chloe, pulling gowns from their boxes and tissue paper. The butterflies in my stomach settle a bit with each dress, replaced by my friends’ running commentary.
“Okay, but did you ever actually ask him if he’s in the mafia?” Chloe asks as I emerge in the emerald silk. “Because the whole mysterious billionaire thing is very Godfather-adjacent.”