“You’ve been stealing from me.” Zo Rossi said it quietly. That made it worse. Men like Zo didn’t need to yell.

The estate in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, was a fortress disguised as a luxury timber lodge. Surrounded by dense pine forests and a frozen lake, the property was completely secluded from the outside world.

For three days, Mia and I lived inside the lodge under the watchful protection of six heavy-set guards.

Mia thought we were on a surprise vacation. She spent her days building snowmen in the secured courtyard and drinking hot chocolate prepared by the lodge's housekeeper. Her blood sugar numbers were completely stable, her new insulin pump working seamlessly.

I, on the other hand, couldn't sleep.

I spent my nights pacing the heavy oak floorboards of the master living room, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the dark woods, watching the snow fall. My phone was dead quiet. Zo had ordered a complete communications blackout to prevent Moretti's men from tracking our location.

On the fourth night, at two in the morning, the heavy iron gates at the edge of the property creaked open.

I ran to the window.

A single black SUV pulled up the winding driveway, its headlights cutting through the swirling blizzard. It stopped near the front porch.

The door opened, and Zo stepped out.

He wasn't wearing his suit. He wore a dark tactical jacket, combat boots, and jeans. His face was drawn, exhausted, a fresh black bruise blooming along his left temple.

I didn't wait for him to come inside. I threw open the heavy oak front door and ran out onto the snow-covered porch, cold wind stinging my bare legs.

"Zo!" I called out.

He stopped at the bottom of the porch steps, looking up at me. When he saw me standing there in my sweater and sweatpants, his cold, hardened posture seemed to melt away.

He walked up the steps, taking two at a time, until he was standing right in front of me.

"You should be inside," he said, his breath pluming white in the freezing air. "It's twenty below."

"I don't care," I said, my voice trembling. "Is it over?"

Zo pulled off his leather glove and touched my cheek. His hand was cold, but his touch sent a wave of heat straight through my core.

"Frankie is gone," Zo said quietly. "Moretti signed a peace treaty an hour ago. He surrendered his shipping docks on the South Side."

I closed my eyes, letting out a breath I felt like I had been holding for days. "And you? Are you alright?"

Zo looked down at me, his brown eyes searching my face with a fierce, quiet hunger. "I haven't been alright since the night I turned your canvas bag upside down on my floor."

My heart skipped a beat. "Zo..."

"I tried to keep you at a distance, Tessa," he murmured, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. "I told myself you were just an employee. That I was helping a struggling mother because it was the right thing to do. But every time I look at you, every time I hear your voice, I don't see an employee. I see the only woman who ever looked at me without fear or greed."

He stepped closer, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me flush against his hard body.

"I changed my rules for you once," Zo whispered into the cold air. "Tell me to stop, Tessa, and I'll walk away. But if you don't..."

I didn't let him finish. I reached up, grabbed the collar of his jacket, and pulled his mouth down to mine.

The kiss was desperate, wild, and intoxicating. It tasted of snow, whiskey, and months of suppressed desire. Zo groaned against my lips, his hand wrapping tightly into my hair, holding me close as if he were trying to pull me inside his very soul.