The wind hit Zoe like a physical assault.
It wasn't just snowing anymore; it was a whiteout. The city had disappeared behind a curtain of aggressive, swirling ice. The wind howled down 57th Street, tunneling between the skyscrapers with a ferocity that stole the breath from her lungs.
Zoe stumbled onto the sidewalk. The temperature had dropped ten degrees in the last hour. Her coat, soaked from Jade's "accident," began to freeze almost instantly. The wet cashmere turned into a stiff, icy shell against her skin. Her teeth started to chatter, a violent, uncontrollable rattling.
She fumbled for her phone. Her fingers were red and stiff, barely responsive on the screen.
Uber: No cars available.
Lyft: Wait time 55 minutes.
She looked up, desperate. The street was eerily empty. A few yellow cabs sped by, their "Off Duty" lights glowing like mocking eyes in the gloom. They didn't even slow down as she waved her arm, her movements jerky and pathetic.
"Please," she whispered, the wind snatching the word away.
She took a step toward the corner, hoping for better luck on Park Avenue. A gust of wind, stronger than the rest, slammed into her.
Her heel caught on a patch of black ice hidden beneath the fresh powder.
Zoe went down hard.
She landed on the concrete with a sickening thud. Pain exploded in her right ankle-a sharp, white-hot bolt of lightning that shot up her leg.
"Ah!" She cried out, clutching her knee.
She tried to stand, but her ankle buckled immediately, unable to bear even an ounce of weight. She collapsed back into the snow, the cold seeping through her jeans, biting into her skin.
She sat there, on the frozen sidewalk of one of the richest streets in the world, and felt utterly, completely abandoned. Her phone battery icon turned red. 10%.
She was going to freeze to death here. She was going to be a headline in tomorrow's Post. Socialite Found Frozen on Fifth Avenue.
Suddenly, a pair of headlights cut through the white darkness.
A car was moving slowly down the street, prowling like a sleek black beast. It wasn't a taxi. It was a Maybach, entirely blacked out, moving with a silence that was unnerving.
It slowed as it approached her. Zoe shrank back, fear spiking. She was helpless, sitting in the snow.
The car stopped right in front of her. The back window rolled down with a smooth, electric hum.
A face appeared in the gap.
Zoe stopped breathing.
It was a face constructed of sharp angles and shadows. Dark hair, eyes that looked like shattered obsidian, and a mouth set in a permanent line of indifference.
Julian Sterling.
Liam's half-brother. The illegitimate son. The "Black Sheep" of the Sterling family.
Zoe instinctively recoiled. Liam had told her stories about Julian for years-how he was twisted, jealous, dangerous. How he hated everyone in the main family.
Julian didn't open the door. He just looked at her, his gaze sweeping over her wet coat, her twisted ankle, her tear-streaked face. There was no pity in his eyes. Just a cold, calculating assessment.
"Get in," he said. His voice was deep, resonant, barely raised above the sound of the wind.
Zoe shook her head, her teeth chattering so hard she could barely speak. "I... I'm fine."
Julian raised an eyebrow. It was a gesture of supreme arrogance. "You're sitting in a slush puddle in a blizzard, Zoe. You're not fine."
"I'm waiting for a cab," she lied, hugging herself.
"There are no cabs," Julian said flatly. "The Mayor just declared a state of emergency. Roads are closing. You want to freeze to death to prove a point, or do you want to live?"
Another gust of wind tore through the street, throwing a handful of ice pellets into Zoe's face. She gasped, the pain in her ankle throbbing in time with her heart.
She looked at the dark, warm interior of the car. Then at the empty, frozen street.
Pride was a luxury she couldn't afford.
"Okay," she whispered.
She tried to stand, wincing. Before she could fall again, the driver's door opened. A large man in a suit stepped out, marched over, and offered her a hand. He helped her hobble to the car, opening the heavy back door.
Zoe collapsed onto the leather seat.
The door thudded shut, sealing out the world.
The silence inside was absolute. The chaos of the storm was instantly replaced by the smell of expensive leather and a faint, woodsy scent-cedar and something sharper, like cold air.
Julian sat on the other side of the seat, pressing a button to roll the window back up. He didn't look at her. He was typing on his phone.
Zoe huddled in the corner, trying not to let her wet coat touch the pristine upholstery. She was shivering violently now, her body convulsing in aftershocks.
Without looking up from his phone, Julian reached to his side. He grabbed a folded cashmere blanket and tossed it across the seat.
It landed squarely in Zoe's lap.
She stared at it, then at him. "Thank you," she managed to stutter.
Julian didn't respond.
Zoe unfolded the blanket. It was thick and warm. She wrapped it around herself, burying her face in the fabric. It smelled like him. That cedar scent. It was overwhelming.
The car began to move. Smooth, steady.
"Where... where are we going?" Zoe asked, her voice raspy. "I need to get to Columbia."
Julian finally looked at her. His eyes were dark pools, unreadable. "Not happening. The West Side Highway is shut down. Bridges are closing."
"Then where?"
"My place," he said. "It's three blocks away."
Panic flared in Zoe's chest. "I can't. Liam said..."
Julian let out a short, harsh laugh. It wasn't a happy sound. "Liam left you on the sidewalk, Zoe. I don't think he gets a vote right now."
The truth of his words struck her harder than the cold. She sank back into the seat, defeated.
She watched out the window as the car turned into an underground garage. The massive steel gate rattled upward, then clanged shut behind them with a finality that made Zoe's stomach drop.
She was trapped. Trapped with the one person she had been warned to fear.
