“I . . .” She trailed off. No matter what he said, she couldn’t keep dumping Tommy on Aleks. It wasn’t fair to whatever was happening between them. She stepped out of the safety of the small cubicle. “Grief. It was grief.”

  He grasped her shoulders and pulled her close.

  She went willingly, melting into his chest. Aleks wrapped his arms around her. His woodsy cologne tickled her nose, bringing to mind cold nights in front of a fire. She snuggled closer and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “What if someone comes in?” she worried half-heartedly. Her day was already ending spectacularly badly. What would be worse—the newsies, Dizzie, or Mrs. Solveig walking in on them? Right now, in the comfort of Aleks’s arms, Portia wasn’t sure she cared.

  “The door’s locked,” he whispered against her cheek. “We have a couple minutes. Probably.”

  Wrapped up in each other, they swayed slightly in the quiet room. Portia focused on his steady heartbeat as it thump-thump-thumped under her ear.

  “How was your day?” she asked. The question felt completely natural. Was it too soon to feel that? It had to be too soon.

  “Boring,” he told her. “Mrs. Solveig didn’t want to do anything but wait in their suite. She’s sure that Dizzie will change her mind and want to join them, so she spent the entire day waiting for her call.”

  Portia shivered. She understood dwelling in grief, but Killian and Dizzie seemed truly happy. “That’s a lost cause,” Portia said.

  “I know,” he said. “I’ve tried to get them to see it, but they insist that my implant is making me stupid.”

  A growl rose from her throat. “You can’t let them get away with that.” She raised her head to look at him. “If they don’t recognize your potential, they don’t deserve you.”

  “There she is,” Aleks crooned. “The most badass woman in the city.” He smoothed his hand over her hip. “Feeling better?”

  She stared up at him. “Did you do that on purpose?”

  “Do what?”

  “Get me riled up at the Solveigs so I forgot that I was sad?” It was kind of genius.

  He shrugged, but a tiny smile played around his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She rose onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” His eyes dropped to her lips. “I’d kiss you for real, but it might mess up your makeup. Then people would start questioning the Ice Queen and we can’t have that.”

  “No, can’t have that.” She trailed her fingers over his lapels. “Thank you for cheering me up.”

  He put his knuckle under her chin and brushed the softest kiss over her lips. “You’ve got this.”

  “I’ve got this.” She exhaled shakily.

  Someone pounded on the door. “Hey! Why is this locked?” The outer knob twisted violently.

  “It’s time,” Aleks said with a laugh. “Ready?”

  Portia nodded. She wasn’t, really, but she didn’t have a choice.

  “Go back into your stall. I’ll leave. Wait a little bit before you do.”

  She nodded. “Thank you again.” She grabbed his lapel and kissed him again, a little harder. “Thanks for getting me out of this.”

  Aleks held the stall door for her and Portia stepped back in. She moved as far back into the corner as she could, hoping they wouldn’t notice that one stall was already occupied.

  Several women entered the restroom. Portia waited through a couple rounds of people coming and going before she flushed then slipped out of her stall.

  Washing her hands, she stared at her reflection. She was still pale, so she splashed a little water on her cheeks, gave them a little slap. Aleks was right. She could do this. She could do hard things. With a deep breath, she opened the door . . . and stepped into chaos.

  Chapter 41

  Aleks smiled at the women waiting outside the restroom door. “Sorry,” he said. “There was a line.” He winked and tilted his head toward the men’s room.

  They laughed in response as he passed them to return to the dining room.

  Aleks hadn’t been thrilled when Mr. Solveig had insisted they go out for dinner. In Aleks’s opinion, they should head home. He agreed with Portia that Mrs. Solveig was waiting for a call that would never come.

  But now he took back all his complaints about this dinner, since it had allowed him time with Portia, no matter how brief.

  When he’d seen her hurrying across the room, he’d immediately known something was wrong. He’d waited until Mr. and Mrs. Solveig were deep in conversation before excusing himself.

  But five stolen minutes with her weren’t enough. When she was in his arms, his world felt right. His brain quieted when she was around. No matter how quickly this had all come about, he believed that she felt that way too. The pull between them had been there from the start.

  Now he just had to figure out what to do about it.

  The moment he stepped back into the dining room, Aleks had to put that problem aside.

  The attention of nearly everyone—diners and kitchen staff alike—was turned toward the back corner of the dining room. The corner where Dizzie, Killian St. John, and Portia had been seated.

  Fuck.

  Quickening his pace, he glanced toward the Solveigs’ table. It was mostly empty, confirming his worst fears. The lone Solveig employee left at the table looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. Aleks knew how he felt.

  Already running through possible scenarios—most of which were the worst possible case—Aleks wove through the onlookers so he could approach the table from the side.

  He was nearly halfway there when he heard the raised voices.

  “Take your filthy hands off my granddaughter!” Mrs. Solveig’s strident voice was made worse by the rage powering her words.

  Perhaps her husband would be able to talk her down, but Aleks didn’t place much faith in the man. While his grief was as deep as his wife’s, he lacked the backbone to support her in a way that didn’t also enable her.

  He couldn’t hear a response from St. John or Dizzie, but whatever they said made Mrs. Solveig change her tack. “Please, Dizzie, come home with us. You’ll have everything you ever wanted. A chance for a new life.”

  Aleks shouldered his way past the last of the onlookers and studied the tableau before him. His stomach sank. It was worse than he had imagined.

  The waitstaff and maître d’ had obviously tried to stop the confrontation and protect them from prying eyes, but there were too few of them to do much good. They formed a loose semi-circle between the rest of the diners and the Solveigs and the St. Johns. It was a valiant attempt, but in vain.

  Mrs. Solveig had one hand on the dinner table and was leaning as far over it as she could. Her other hand was stretched out beseechingly toward Dizzie. Mr. Solveig stood at her side, his hand resting on her shoulder.

  Aleks had no idea if he was urging her on or trying to talk her down.

  Talk about useless.

  At the table, wine slowly seeped out of an overturned wine glass, turning the white cloth red. Place settings were jumbled up and the centerpiece was askew. What the hell had happened?

  Dizzie stood defiantly on the other side of the table. Hands on her hips, she looked ready to lunge over the table at any movement. “No. I don’t know you. Why would I want to come with you? This is my home.”

  St. John stood behind Dizzie, one hand resting possessively on her lower back, letting her fight her own battles. His expression was strained and Aleks was sure that it was taking all his control to not step in. Would he snap? And what would that mean for Aleks’s employers?

  A few members of the Solveigs’ security team had joined them for dinner. Mrs. Solveig had insisted, citing potential harm from Tremaine-backed plots. But right now, their security was the only threat Aleks saw.

  Fucking perfect.

  He stepped closer to the standoff, ready to intervene when it made sense. There was nothing he could do until the situation worsened. Any sooner and the Solveigs would not thank him for his assistance.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Oh no. Nonononono.

  Of all the worst possible times for Portia to return to the table.

  Phones and cameras turned in Portia’s direction. Her lips pressed together for a moment, the only outward sign of her discomfort.

  Mrs. Solveig whirled away from Dizzie. “You! This is all your fault!”

  Hands on her hips, Portia glared at the other woman. “Are you okay?” She looked past Mrs. Solveig, obviously speaking to St. John and Dizzie.

  “Fine,” Dizzie said through clenched teeth. “It would be nice if she would go away, though, so we can get back to our dinner.”

  Mrs. Solveig spun around again. “Her? You’re having dinner with her, but you won’t have dinner with me? Your grandmother? Your own flesh and blood?”

  “Iduna, please. People are watching.” Mr. Solveig finally spoke. To Aleks’s mind, it was too little and far too late.

  Mrs. Solveig had doubled down and the crowd was clearly invested as well. There was no possible way this was going to end well.

  St. John, his arm now wrapped protectively around Dizzie’s shoulders, spoke for the first time. “She isn’t going to change her mind. Dizzie’s stubborn. She takes after her sister that way.”

  Oh fuck. However much St. John had intended to help, he’d chosen the wrong way.

  “You did this! You’re the reason I don’t have my granddaughter! This is all your fault!” Hand upraised, Mrs. Solveig lunged for Portia.

  Moving without thought, Aleks stepped between Portia and the other woman. He caught Mrs. Solveig’s hand before it made contact.

  “How dare you?” She turned her ire on him.

  “There are cameras,” he hissed. “It’s highly likely someone is posting this live right now.”

  Mr. Solveig stepped up behind her. Brow furrowed, his eyes somber, he nodded and Aleks released her arm. Mr. Solveig laced his fingers with hers and tugged her back a few steps.

  Aleks didn’t move. He wouldn’t move until the threat to Portia had left the room.

  “You idiot! I knew I should’ve sent someone else to take care of the Tremaine problem.”

  Dizzie gasped, as did several of the onlookers. That appeared to be what snapped Mrs. Solveig out of her rant.

  Slightly subdued, she allowed her husband to usher her away from Dizzie’s table. But not without one more withering glare at Portia. She extended it to Aleks when she saw he hadn’t moved.

  Portia stepped up behind him and put her hand on his arm. “Thank you,” she whispered over his shoulder. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

  Probably. Not wanting to worry her, he just shrugged. “No.”

  “Come by tonight?” Her words were barely a whisper.

  His breath caught. Had she really just asked that? He nodded.

  She squeezed his forearm. “You can go,” she said. “I’ve got this.”

  He was reluctant to leave her. Honestly, what he really wanted was to join her for dinner with the St. Johns.

  She stepped away and he felt the loss immediately. He pivoted slightly, tracking her movements in his periphery.

  She drew the maître d’ to the side and whispered in his ear. His expression cleared and some of the tension dropped from his shoulders.

  He grasped her hands in his, vigorously shaking them as he smiled and responded. She smiled in return.

  The maître d’ dropped her hands, then clapped to get the attention of servers and patrons alike. “Ladies and gentlemen. If you would, please return to your seats. Your meals will be out shortly. And I’m pleased to inform you that Ms. Tremaine will be covering all your dinners this evening. Please accept our apologies for the disturbance and enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  Very nicely done, Portia. She’d come late to the fight, but she was smoothing it over the best way she could. Which made sense. This was her city and the goodwill would go a long way to building her reputation beyond the Ice Queen.

  Aleks rubbed the crease of his brow. If only Mrs. Solveig understood that.

  “Mr. Lind.” He turned toward Dizzie when she said his name. “On behalf of myself and my sister, thank you for stepping in.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” he insisted.

  “Yes, you did,” she said with a gentle smile. “Would you like to join us? We can easily add another place.” She smiled at the waiters who were replacing the soiled tablecloth and place settings.

  His heart leapt. She was offering him everything he’d ever wanted. His gaze flickered to Portia, who watched the interplay closely.

  “Thank you so much for the offer. Unfortunately, I’m needed elsewhere.” With a sigh, he looked in the direction of the Solveigs’ table. He couldn’t see them at all from his current position.

  “Duty calls?” Dizzie asked. Her gaze flicked from Aleks to Portia and back again.

  “Something like that.”

  He wanted to let her know that Portia was in a delicate space, but that wasn’t his place. Not tonight and maybe not ever.

  “Enjoy your dinner,” he said.

  “Thank you.” Speculation lingered in her gaze.

  St. John nodded.

  With a last glance at Portia, he turned away to face the music.

  Chapter 42

  “Well, that was exciting,” Dizzie said when the crowds around the table had dispersed.

  Portia waited for her to comment on Portia’s abrupt exit, but the other woman seemed more focused on Mrs. Solveig and her very public outburst.

  “How long was she bothering you?” Portia asked.

  “Not long,” Killian said. At the same time Dizzie said, “It felt like forever.”

  “Do you want to meet with them again?” Portia was curious if anything had changed.

  Dizzie shrugged. “I might have considered it, but she won’t take no for an answer. It’s like my feelings don’t matter. I’m not willing to accept that.” She sipped the glass of wine that had been replaced. “If they started with a quiet lunch, maybe. Coming at me with double barrels both times? No, thank you.”

  Portia considered Dizzie’s words as she took a sip of water. Her nerves were too shot tonight for anything stronger. When she’d reached the table and seen the Solveig disaster unfolding, the first thought in her head was that she was glad Aleks was here to help. “It’s unfortunate that they chose this restaurant for dinner tonight.”

  “But it was pretty heroic the way Mr. Lind stepped in to protect you,” Dizzie said slyly.

  Portia thought so too, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “He knew an incident like that would be bad for business.” When he’d prevented Mrs. Solveig’s slap attack, Portia’s heart had done that funny little hiccup it did when he was around.

  “Yep, I’m sure business was the only thing on his mind,” Dizzie teased.

  “Mmhmm.” Portia studied the menu in front of her. It hadn’t changed at all since the last time she’d been here, but she needed a distraction from Dizzie’s probing.

  “The Solveigs are going to continue to be a problem, Portia. What are you going to do about them?” Killian asked.

  Like she had any idea. But since he was pushing . . . She gave him a bland smile. “I’m going to hand Dizzie over. That should get them out of my hair long enough to solve the other problems.” She flashed him a toothy grin.

  “Haha. Real funny,” Dizzie said. Then she got a faraway look in her eyes. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

  Killian tugged on one of her braids. “No. You are not handing yourself over to them.”

  “Aw, it’s so sweet when you think you can tell me what to do.” Her tone was teasing and her hand came up to rest gently on his cheek. Her pink nails sparkled against his skin.

  Jealousy was an unwelcome lump in Portia’s stomach.

  “But I wasn’t talking about myself,” Dizzie continued.

  “I’m not giving myself up either,” Portia protested. Her gaze swung to Killian.

  He frowned. “They certainly don’t want me.”

  Dizzie rolled her eyes. “You’re both so dense,” she said with a laugh. “Who do they really, really hate?” She didn’t give them a chance to respond. “Our father. We give them what they want.”

  Portia’s menu fell from lifeless fingers. It was so simple . . . and so diabolical. She wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or fearful of the woman across the table.

  “That’s . . . that’s . . .” She didn’t even know what to say.

  “Genius!” Killian planted a loud kiss on Dizzie’s lips. “Pure genius. It solves two problems with one move.”

  “Do you think they’ll hurt him?” Portia asked in a small voice. Phillip Tremaine was a right bastard, but he was still her father and the only parent she had left. Could she live with herself if her actions led to his death?

  “Oh, Portia.” Killian reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “We’ll figure something out.”

  She laced her fingers with his and gave him a tremulous smile. “Thanks,” she whispered. “I thought he was dead all this time and now that he’s alive . . . I don’t know what to do with that. He wants to take everything back. How can I let him do that when so much of it was bad? But then . . . he’s my father and he’s alive and that’s a good thing, right?”

  Neither Killian nor Dizzie answered. Which was fair. They both had their own issues with the man.

  She gave Killian’s fingers one last squeeze and released him.

  Forcing a smile for Dizzie, she said, “It’s a good idea. Really. And if it were anyone else, I’d be all in without a second thought.”

  “We’ll figure out a way to make it work, Portia,” Dizzie said. “One that doesn’t get your heart broken again.”

  That was more kindness than she could have expected from the other woman, especially after the way Portia had treated her. “Dizzie, I⁠—”

  “Are you ready to order?” A waiter appeared at their table.

 

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