SNOWED IN With Best Friend's Father

Chapter One: The Invitation

The last thing I expected when Riley Cross called me at eleven PM on a Tuesday was an invitation to spend Christmas at her family's Aspen estate.

"Please, Zara. I'm literally begging you." Riley's voice cracked through my phone speaker as I sat cross-legged on my lumpy futon, eating ramen straight from the pot. "My mother is bringing ‘him’."

‘Him’ being Preston Vale, the thirty-two-year-old tennis instructor Amanda Cross had left her husband for five years ago. The same man who'd apparently proposed last month, judging by the rock I'd seen plastered all over Amanda's I*******m.

"Your dad agreed to this?" I asked, incredulous.

"He doesn't know yet." Riley groaned. "Mom just texted me. She wants to 'heal the family' and have a 'mature adult Christmas' together. She's bringing Preston whether Dad likes it or not. I can't do this alone, Z. I need you there."

I should have said no. I had a million reasons to say no. My freelance design work was barely paying rent, I couldn't afford a plane ticket, and spending two weeks watching Riley's stupidly attractive father pretend to be fine while his ex-wife paraded her boy-toy around sounded like a special kind of torture.

But Riley was my best friend. She'd been there when my own parents died in a car crash my sophomore year of college. She'd held me through panic attacks and paid for my textbooks when I couldn't afford them, no matter how much I protested.

"Fine," I sighed. "But you're buying my ticket."

"Already done. I used Dad's credit card. You leave Friday."

"Riley.."

"He won't even notice! The man spent four million on a hotel renovation last week. Consider it his Christmas present to you." She paused. "Thank you, Z. Seriously. You're saving my life."

After we hung up, I stared at my reflection in my laptop screen. At twenty-four, I still looked like the broke college student Riley had befriended six years ago messy dark hair, olive skin that hadn't seen proper skincare in months, and grey eyes perpetually shadowed from late nights finishing design projects.

I definitely didn't look like someone who belonged in Nicholas Cross's world.

The man was a legend. At forty-two, he'd built Cross Luxury Hotels from a single property inheritance into a global empire of thirty-seven five-star hotels. Forbes called him the "Winter King" after he'd turned a failing ski resort into the most exclusive destination in North America.

I'd met him exactly twice. Once at Riley's college graduation, where he'd shaken my hand with a grip that made my stomach flip, and once at her twenty-third birthday party last year, where I'd spilled champagne on his Tom Ford suit and wanted to die.

Both times, he'd been polite. Distant. Exactly what you'd expect from a billionaire hotel mogul who had better things to do than notice his daughter's struggling artist friend.

I told myself that's why my hands shook as I packed on Friday morning. That's why I changed outfits four times before settling on jeans and a sweater that didn't scream "I shop at Target." That's why my heart hammered when the town car Riley sent pulled up to my building in Brooklyn.

It had nothing to do with the fact that I'd been half in love with Nicholas Cross since the moment I'd met him.

Nothing at all.

---

The Cross estate wasn't a house. It was a glass and timber masterpiece built into the mountainside, all floor-to-ceiling windows and modern luxury that probably cost more than I'd earn in my lifetime. The driver dropped me at the front entrance, where Riley practically tackled me in the snow.

"You're here! Oh my god, you're actually here." She pulled back, her blonde hair whipping in the wind. "Fair warning, Mom and Preston arrived an hour ago. Dad's locked himself in his study. It's already a disaster."

"Great," I muttered, grabbing my suitcase.

Riley linked her arm through mine as we walked inside. "Also, I may have told Dad you're going through a rough breakup and needed to get away for the holidays."

"Riley! I'm not.."

"I know, but he'd ask why you're spending Christmas with us instead of your own family, and I didn't want to bring up..." She trailed off, squeezing my arm. "Sorry. It just seemed easier."

I swallowed the familiar ache. My parents had been gone for six years, but holidays still gutted me.

"It's fine," I said.

The interior of the house was even more stunning than I'd imagined, all warm wood and stone, with a massive Christmas tree already decorated in the great room. A fire crackled in a fireplace large enough to stand in.

And sitting on the leather sofa, wrapped around a man young enough to be carded, was Amanda Cross.

She looked exactly like her I*******m photos, blonde, Botoxed, and dripping in diamonds. Preston had his hand on her thigh, his tennis-pro tan looking ridiculous against his cream-colored cashmere sweater.

"Riley, darling!" Amanda stood, air-kissing her daughter's cheeks. "And you must be Zara. Riley's told me so much about you."

Doubtful, considering Riley barely spoke to her mother.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Cross," I said politely.

"Oh, call me Amanda. I'm not Mrs. Cross anymore, thank god." She laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "That title belongs to whoever Nick's latest assistant is."

Riley's jaw tightened. "Dad doesn't date his assistants."

"Of course not, sweetie. I'm just teasing." Amanda turned to Preston. "This is my fiancé, Preston Vale."

Preston stood, extending a hand. He was handsome in that generic way wealthy women loved, square jaw, perfect teeth, empty eyes.

"Great to meet you," he said, his voice aggressively cheerful. "Riley says you're an artist?"

"Graphic designer," I corrected.

"Oh, so like... websites and stuff?"

Before I could respond, a door opened down the hall.

And Nicholas Cross walked into the room.

I'd forgotten how tall he was. How his presence seemed to fill every available space. He'd aged since I'd last seen him more silver at his temples, lines around his eyes that made him look distinguished instead of old. He wore dark jeans and a grey henley that clung to his shoulders in a way that should be illegal.

His ice-blue eyes swept the room, landing on Amanda and Preston first. His expression didn't change, but something cold flickered across his face.

Then his gaze found mine.

"Zara." His voice was deep, rough around the edges. "I didn't know you were coming."

Riley jumped in. "I invited her! She's having a terrible time with her ex, and I thought..”

"It's fine, Riley." Nick's eyes hadn't left mine. "You're always welcome here, Zara."

The way he said my name made my skin flush.

"Thank you, Mr. Cross," I managed.

"Nick," he said. "We're not that formal here."

Amanda laughed again. "Oh, Nicky's very informal these days. Aren't you, darling?"

The muscle in Nick's jaw ticked. "Amanda. Preston." He nodded at them like they were strangers, not his ex-wife and her fiancé. "Dinner's at seven. Try not to burn the place down before then."

He turned and walked back toward his study, but not before his eyes flicked to me one more time.

It lasted maybe two seconds.

It felt like forever.

Riley dragged me upstairs to the guest room, a suite larger than my entire apartment, with a king bed and a view of the snow-covered mountains.

"Okay, so game plan," Riley said, flopping onto my bed. "We avoid Mom and Preston as much as possible. We drink Dad's expensive wine. We survive until New Year's. Easy."

I nodded, only half-listening.

Because I was still thinking about the way Nicholas Cross had looked at me.

Like he was seeing me for the first time.