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‘So, yes,’ she went on, since he wasn’t giving her anything back. ‘I came to you because of our friendship, and because you once had a personal tie to Worthington.’

‘I have no personal ties,’ he said. ‘Not to anyone. Not anymore.’

The cold in his voice was like an icy north wind, making her shiver. There was a bleak note in it, too, and she could see the same bleakness in his eyes now.

Loss, that’s what it was. Grief for Neve Aarsland.

Her heart squeezed, and before she knew what she was doing, she’d reached across the table and put her hand over his where it rested beside his plate. But as she touched him, something in his eyes flared, a bright silver glitter, and all the breath left her lungs. His skin was warm, the exact opposite of his sharp, icy beauty, and that shocked her as much as the glitter in his eyes. Enough that she felt completely unable to move, unable to even breathe.

For a long moment she was caught there, held by the look in his eyes, an inexplicable heat, then with a suddenness that made her gasp, he jerked his hand out from under hers, pushed his chair back and stalked from the room without a word.

Libby stayed where she was, staring at the place where his hand had been, her palm almost scorched by the touch of his skin. Her heart raced and she felt a little shaky. As if she’d crossed a line, transgressed somehow.

Clearly, she’d offended him by touching him. Perhaps he didn’t like to be touched, and she’d ignored his personal boundaries. It had been an instinctive thing, because touch had always been her kind of comfort, and she knew other people liked touch, too. But he might not.

Whatever, she’d screwed up and offended him. Again.

He didn’t return to the dining room, so she ate in silence, then, once she’d finished, she carried his abandoned plate and her own as she limped into the kitchen. The least she could do by way of apology was to clean up, so despite her ankle, that’s what she did. Once everything was clean, she took her wine and limped back into the living room, sitting on the couch, staring at the fire for a few minutes.

Her gaze strayed to the photo hanging above the fireplace. It was in black and white, of a woman dressed in a stylish white suit. She was standing in front of a large desk and leaning back, her hands touching the desktop on either side of her. She was tall and slender and elegant. Her pale hair had been pulled back from her face, revealing a bone structure that Liberty would have killed for.

Neve Aarsland certainly had a presence. An air of command, of self-possession and confidence and a certain sensual femininity. A combination that made the photo incredibly compelling.

Libby had only seen a couple of pictures of her, but looking at her now, there was something innately familiar about her. Something that tugged subtly in the back of Libby’s mind like a spider walking a web. She’d seen that face before somewhere, she was sure. Somewhere outside of her research into Kai. But where? And when?

After a moment, Libby dug into the pocket of the supremely comfortable sweatpants she wore and got out her phone, trying to unlock it so she could do a quick internet search. But the screen remained stubbornly black. Which was when she remembered the battery was dead. Damn.

She was probably going to have to go in search of Kai and ask him for a charger cable which she didn’t want to do, not after he’d walked out of the dining room.

She debated a minute, then reluctantly got to her feet, wincing as her weight shifted on her injured ankle. It was feeling a bit better, so maybe she hadn’t sprained it too badly.

Asking for a cable and maybe the wi-fi password, if there was even wi-fi, wasn’t asking for much. And then she’d never bother him for anything else again. Ever.

The house was deliciously warm—even the wooden floors were warm—and it really was a beautiful house. Very architectural and light, the wooden walls scrubbed and pale. Again, though, it was very spare, with no clutter anywhere.

As she went searching, she discovered a downstairs bathroom and mudroom for storing wet jackets and shoes, and even a small, perfect little library with a window seat that looked out over the jagged cliffs of the fjord. The hall extended beyond the library, though, before ending in a big, wide door. She knocked experimentally on it. There was no answer, so she knocked again.

Eventually a familiar, deep voice said something that she couldn’t quite hear. She frowned, wondering whether to go right in and invade his privacy yet again or continue to shout through the door. But she didn’t want to shout, so she pushed the door open.

A large office lay beyond, the night yawning behind the massive windows. The desk took pride of place in front of them, and she realised it was the same desk that she’d seen in the photo of Neve above the fireplace. Except, Neve wasn’t the one standing in front of it now, but a very tall man, his gaze on some documents spread across the desktop. He whipped his head around sharply as she came in, his gaze catching hers like a butterfly in a net.

‘What do you want?’ he demanded gracelessly.

She flushed at the irritated note in his voice. ‘Sorry. I promise I won’t bother you again, but do you have a charger? My phone is dead and I need to call my hotel to let them know I won’t be there tonight.’

He cursed under his breath and then dug into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his own phone. ‘The name of your hotel,’ he said.

Libby blinked, then gave it to him. His thumb moved over the screen, then he raised it to his ear, speaking in rapid Norwegian before ending the call. ‘There,’ he said, glancing at her. ‘They know now.’

She was getting a little tired of his attitude. She was tired, full stop. She’d slogged her way through the snow to get here, and her ankle was sore, and okay, that was her own fault, as was nearly freezing to death. Yes, she was here uninvited, but if not for the storm, she would have left by now. And there was nothing they could do about the storm, so he could stop being so annoyed with her.

‘Look,’ she said testily. ‘I’m sorry about touching you. I shouldn’t have done that, but I’m only asking for a phone charger not the key to your vault.’

His gaze narrowed and he stared at her very intently for reasons she couldn’t possibly imagine. ‘Are you married?’ he asked all of a sudden.

The question was so out of left field that it took her a moment to process it. ‘Um, what? No.’

‘Are you in a relationship with anyone?’