As she walked away, Elliot watched her path through the crowd, noting how she paused to speak briefly with Braddock before disappearing into the elevator.
“Well, that wasn’t suspicious at all,” Rue muttered, still holding his hand. “Should I be flattered that I apparently warrant a file?”
“No, you should be concerned.” He turned to face her fully, using their joined hands as an excuse to pull her closer. “That woman is dangerous.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Rue rolled her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her unease.
“She recognized my name,” he said.
“Is that surprising? Your family’s company isn’t exactly low-profile.”
“She wasn’t happy about it.”
Rue’s expression sobered. “You think she’s Praetorian?”
“I think we have at least one Praetorian operative on this expedition team, and an investor who’s asking very specific questions.” He glanced around the room. “Whatever they’re after in Antarctica, it isn’t fucking ice algae.”
Rue’s fingers tightened around his. “Which means it’s valuable.”
“Or dangerous.” Elliot met her gaze. “Possibly both.”
Her eyes held his. “Well, then it’s a good thing you’ll be there to keep me out of trouble.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Elliot felt the corner of his mouth twitch. “I don’t think anyone could manage that, Trouble. Not even me.”
“That’s what makes it fun.” She grinned, and the genuine smile transformed her face.
Most men would describe her as cute before they called her beautiful, but they’d be wrong. There was nothing diminutive about Rue Bristow when she smiled like that—all heat and mischief and dangerous promise. Beautiful didn’t cover it. Neither did stunning. She was magnetic in a way that made his chest tight and his pulse kick up like he’d been running.
Christ. He needed to get his head on straight.
Because when it came to Rue Bristow, his judgment was compromised in ways he couldn’t afford on a mission like this.
Not when their lives might depend on his ability to stay focused.
The air burned with cold, but Rue breathed it in like salvation. She leaned against the terrace railing, letting the winter wind slice through her party dress as Manhattan’s lights blurredbeneath her. The bite of it was clarifying, cutting through the champagne haze of Atlas Frost’s penthouse party like a knife.
She didn’t want to go back in there.
Rue shivered, but not from the cold. She’d led expeditions to some of the most remote places on Earth—the Atacama Desert, the Siberian tundra, the depths of unmarked caves. But Antarctica was different. Three weeks of isolation in the harshest environment on the planet with a team she didn’t trust…
If she had any sense, she’d pull the plug now.
But… she just couldn’t. Not when she still had so many unanswered questions about the last expedition that vanished into the ice.
Maybe it was reckless, but she needed answers.
The soft click of the glass door opening pulled her from her thoughts. She didn’t need to turn to know who it was—she smelled his cologne before Atlas Frost stepped onto the terrace.
“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” His voice was smooth as aged whiskey, but it didn’t warm her. Instead, it made her skin prickle with uncomfortable awareness.
“Personally, I’ve always preferred the view of nature to steel and glass.”
Frost studied the skyline as if searching for something specific, his breath clouding in the cold air. “I understand Elliot Wilde will be joining you for the expedition,” he said finally, his tone carefully neutral.
“That’s right.” She kept her expression open, guileless. “My fiancé wouldn’t miss it.”
“Fiancé.” Frost let the word hang between them. Then he smiled. “I should mention, Ms. Bristow, that certain investors expect discretion on this expedition.”
