He needed to kick the shit out of himself, and might even need a good run after his swim. He was so fucking wound up, he couldn’t imagine going to Tritech, sitting in his fucking CEO chair, in this fucking state. Tritech was a massive conglomerate headquartered in Chicago, which controlled a diverse range of businesses from pharmaceuticals to tech innovations and electronics.
A typical day in Tritech was busy as hell, including meetings with the board, his chiefs of operations, and managers. A company Tritech’s size was either in expansion mode, or contraction—and Daniel always tried to make sure it was the former. But it would be pretty damn hard to keep his head in the game when every muscle in his body was wound as tight as a coiled spring.
He glanced around, grateful he was alone. A group of billionaires reserved exclusivity in the premises, an hour in the morning, another in the evening, so he was thankfully solo as he hopped into his swim trunks before training in the Olympic-sized pool today.
“Rough night?”
Daniel raised his head to find Luke Preston grinning. He was in running gear, his diamond studs glinting. “I saw you leave with the Ice Maiden last night,” he said.
Daniel’s chest tightened. Monica.
Daniel’s and Monica’s parents had been close. Too close. They’d grown up together, even went to Cannes and St. Moritz together. Monica could’ve been another sister to him and yet, he’d never seen her like a sister. She’d been … Monica.
Completely unique to Daniel.
Not compartmentalized into a sexual partner, a sister, a friend, she seemed to be the entire gray area of his life … somehow blending into every aspect, but never fully there. But last night he’d had his fingers in her pussy. Holy God.
He slammed his locker door shut. “Yeah. So.”
“Peyton said she’d never actually seen Monica Davenport drool. She was looking at you, dude.”
Because she wants me to be her fuck buddy, he thought in annoyance.
“I can’t see why you haven’t slept with that woman,” Luke said.
“Because we’re friends.” His instinct to protect her was too great to tell anyone about last night.
“So?” Luke prompted.
“You’re my friend, Luke. Do you see me trying to get in bed with you?”
“Ignoring the fact that I hail from Mars, dude, I happen to be male.”
“I don’t want Monica like that,” Daniel lied.
But his chest cramped painfully once again as he remembered the way she’d looked last night at the ballroom. God, she was as stunning as a star. Monica had always appealed to his protective side. Hell, to all of his sides. But last night, the sight of her walking into the party without anyone attached to her had filled Daniel’s roiling chest with unexpected relief.
She’d been dressed impeccably in an ivory gown that only enhanced the lovely sable shade of her hair, and she’d worn it drawn in a classic bun to reveal her patrician features. Her skin had been as flawless as the large and precisely round ivory pearls she wore on her ears. There had been nothing about her—there never was—that was out of place. The Ice Maiden, the press called her.
But she was never cold with him.
All during the night, Daniel had replayed the way she’d walked inside and looked straight at him as though he were the apple of her eye. The warmth in her gaze when she saw him would have alerted to anyone looking that there was more to this woman than ice. But that smile, that warmth, was only for him.
Even now, he could still feel the delighted shock of her hand slipping into the crook of his arm. His entire system had zapped in recognition when he heard her light, airy, “Hey, you…”
Just that small touch of her hand had made him want to pull her closer. At five foot seven, Monica was not a petite woman, but compared to Daniel’s six foot three, she was fragile and delicate.
Rarely did either of them venture out alone to these sorts of black-tie events. It caused too much speculation, and having someone on your arm always made the evening more bearable. But she’d been alone, like him, and suddenly it had felt predestined as they kept searching each other out across the room. Daniel had barely been able to take his eyes off her.
Ever since she’d grown up, his cock didn’t seem to be getting the message that she was a friend. Still. She was his only female friend and as valuable to him as his male friends. Hell, as valuable as Chloe, his sister. She was smart and poised and as hardworking as anyone he’d ever met, and during those times growing up, when things had gotten hard for the Ice Maiden, a strange trust had been forged between Daniel and Monica.
THE ICE MAIDEN CRACKS IN THE ARMS OF THE PRINCE!
The press had had a field day with that headline. Monica had been in the eye of the storm when her parents’ divorce became the ugliest divorce in worldwide history. Even worse than any Hollywood movies had ever depicted such dramas, they’d ended up killing themselves, leaving Monica at barely eighteen to have to testify as a witness in court. The War of the Roses had nothing on the Davenports’ famed divorce.
She hadn’t batted an eyelash saying how she found them … when … what they’d shouted at each other …
Daniel still got chills remembering. Monica hadn’t wept. Hadn’t broken. Not while the jury saw. The press had been stunned, and the Ice Maiden had emerged, Monica’s poise exceeding even that of British royalty.
But the press didn’t know Monica had been unable to go back to her home and had been staying with the Lexingtons for several weeks as she got a new place ready. They didn’t know how every night before the hearing she would slip into bed and cry softly into her pillow. They didn’t know how Daniel could hear from his own room, and he’d quietly go to her, slide into bed beside her, and let her cry on him.
Something happened those evenings. They didn’t even talk. It became routine to him. To her. At first, he stayed only until she stopped crying. Later, he’d stay for hours, until they were both tired and groggy from lack of sleep the next morning.
He’d spend all day waiting for it to be nighttime just to have those stolen moments alone with her. The week before she left the household, her tears had long dried up, and yet every night after the others fell asleep and he opened the door, he’d always find her sitting in bed, awake, waiting for him.
They’d forged a bond so strong, they could each guess what the other was thinking. Feeling. In fact, the only time Monica had ever broken down in front of the public had been at her parents’ funeral.