Page 45 of When Ice Queens Collide
This was new, she realized. She had stopped a deal before. Twice, actually, and both times were because the numbers didn’t add up to a favorable result. She had never stopped a deal that was working out for her, never mind when it was working best. She put her hands flat on the table and pressed down through the pads of her fingers, the way she sometimes did at the gym when she wanted to feel her own weight. Her palm was warm, and the wood was cool.
Simone had built her life around being a person who did what needed to be done, but that person wasn’t in the room here today. It struck her all at once that she did not want to win.
The realization cracked something open inside her. She didn’t want to win. She wanted to leave the office, drive north, and put her hand on Alexandra Vaughn’s hand. Simone wanted, more than she had wanted any acquisition in nearly three decades, to not be the thing that broke Alexandra.
Simone lifted her gaze and met Tess’s eyes. “Stop the filing.”
Tess’s hands stilled on the keyboard. “For how long?”
“Indefinitely,” she said, then paused. “I’ll have a decision for you on Sunday night.”
“All right.”
Simone had made thousands of decisions during acquisitions, and she rarely, if ever, equivocated. But she had this time, and as much as she wanted to deny it, she knew exactly why.
“Move Patricia’s call to three,” Simone said, finding familiar ground again. “Tell her to not put a team on it until I confirm on Sunday. And tell Audrey to hold the press rollout. No prep work in London until I clear it.”
“Understood.” Tess lowered her head and went back to writing notes.
Simone stood and crossed to the window on the other side of the room. She drew the slat of the blind aside an inch with a finger. The harbor was the same flat gray it had been for weeks, and a container ship was moving north past the headland, the red of its hull the only color visible. She let the blind fall and picked up her coat from the back of her chair.
“I’ll call you Sunday,” Simone said, almost like an afterthought.
“Sunday,” Tess confirmed.
Simone walked out.
Simone took the route that ran past Vaughn Industries on her way out of downtown. The executive lot was visible from the road, and Alexandra’s space was empty. Whatever was happening at headquarters today, Alexandra wasn’t there. She kept driving north.
When she pulled up, the gate was already open. The other times Simone had been to Alexandra’s house before, the groundskeeper, Esther, had buzzed her in over the intercom. Today, it stood open as if someone had forgotten it, and she drove through without slowing.
She parked beside the front steps. For a moment, she sat with her hands on the wheel. She hadn’t prepared a speech and still had no idea what she was going to say. She got out of the car anyway.
The bell was small and brass, set into the doorframe at shoulder height. Simone pressed it once, and she could hear the echo of the chime.
Alexandra opened the door. She was wearing a heavy gray sweater that was a half-size too large for her and a pair of jeans. Her hair was pulled back in a low, but still loose, updo. She held a half-empty mug of coffee that was no longer steaming. She was thinner and had dark circles under her eyes, and she looked at Simone with no emotion.
“Simone,” she said, and even her voice sounded thin.
“Alexandra.”
Neither of them said anything for a moment. Raindrops hung in the cedars beyond the porch, and the mist was fine enough that it didn’t make a sound. Alexandra hadn’t yet moved out of the doorway, and Simone didn’t move toward her.
“You’re alone?”
“Yes, I sent Esther home early this morning.” Alexandra’s voice was lower than usual and slightly rasped. “I wanted to be left alone with my thoughts today.”
Simone shifted her weight to her other hip. “I can go,” she said quickly.
“No. Come in.”
Alexandra opened the door wider, and Simone stepped past her into the foyer. The house smelled faintly of woodsmoke, and the dim, gray light streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Alexandra closed the door and stood with her back to it for a beat, her eyes on the floor. Then she turned and walked toward the back of the house, Simone trailing behind her.
The kitchen was past the dining room and through a short hallway, and it seemed even bigger than she had remembered. It was long and bright, even on an overcast day, and the windows faced the lake. The fire she had smelled was in a small hearth at the kitchen’s far end, and the coals were low. A plate with sliced apples was on the island, the slices browning on its edges.
Alexandra walked to the sink and washed the mug, then placed it gently in the dish rack to dry. She turned and leaned against the counter and looked at Simone, crossing her arms.
“Why are you here?” Alexandra asked pointedly.
