The Glacier and the Flame

The child was missing.

Not from the hospital—but from the heartbeat monitor.

Dr. Elaina Rivers blinked at the blank screen in Room 307, her pulse skipping before she spun around.

"Benny?" she called.

A soft giggle answered from under the bed.

Relief whooshed through her chest.

She dropped to her knees, lifting the edge of the blanket. "Sir, this is not a sanctioned hideout."

Benny grinned up at her, clutching a toy dinosaur in one hand and a juice box in the other. "I'm on a stealth mission. You weren't supposed to find me until snack time."

Elaina placed a hand over her heart. "You almost gave me cardiac arrest. You owe me chocolate."

He crawled out with dramatic flair. "Deal. But only if it's the gooey kind."

She pulled a stethoscope from her pocket and dangled it like a magic charm. "Then I need payment upfront. Let's see if your heart is still pro-dinosaur."

The small giggles that followed rang louder than the beeping monitors, louder than the outside world—this was her sanctuary. Warm, human, messy.

That's why the knock at the door jarred her.

"Dr. Rivers," said a nurse, "Your meeting with Blackthorn Enterprises has been moved up. You're expected downtown by noon."

Elaina's blood chilled faster than an ice bath.

Already?

—

"What do you even say to a man with a titanium spine and a moral compass made of spreadsheets?" Elaina muttered twenty minutes later, sprinting across the hospital lobby in heels she hadn't broken in.

From the doorway, Dr. Daisy leaned against the frame like a judgmental Greek chorus. "You say, 'Please, sir, I promise this isn't a scam for emotions.'"

Elaina shot her a look while adjusting her coat. "He's not that bad."

"Oh, really? Last time he stared at you like you'd sneezed on his balance sheet."

Elaina exhaled. "It's just one pitch. One meeting. He probably won't even remember me."

Daisy gave her a knowing smirk. "El, you've had a crush on this man since he tried to bankrupt a children's cancer fund."

"I do not have a crush."

"You called him a 'storm in a suit' and doodled his initials in a chart note."

"I was tired. And delusional."

"Just... promise me you'll focus. No falling for villains with cheekbones sharp enough to cause internal bleeding."

"I'm a grown woman," Elaina said, stepping into the elevator. "I fall for ideals, not men."

The doors closed on Daisy's dry voice: "Keep telling yourself that, chocolate-heart."

—

Blackthorn Tower loomed like a monolith of wealth and intimidation. As Elaina stepped off the elevator, her reflection in the polished walls looked a little too much like prey.

"Don't faint. Don't flirt. Don't die," she whispered.

"Fourth one's optional," came a cheerful voice behind her.

She spun to see a man with charming disarray—hair tousled by either wind or chaos, a tie screaming help, and a grin too wide for Wall Street.

"Kade," he said, offering a hand. "Lucien Blackthorn's PA-slash-handler-slash-punching bag."

"Elaina Rivers," she replied. "Surgeon-slash-terrified-pitch-giver-slash-sleepless woman fueled by caffeine and prayer."

Kade mock-wiped his brow. "Thank God you're not another statue in heels. Humor's rare around here."

As they walked toward the boardroom, he leaned closer. "Quick tips: Don't call him Lucien. Don't smile too much. Don't mention feelings."

"Why?"

"Because he'll think you're trying to sell him a Hallmark card, and he's more into... guillotines."

The joke didn't land as well when they stopped outside a double door that looked like it led to an execution chamber.

Kade opened one side dramatically. "Welcome to the lair of doom. And possibly opportunity."

Elaina's stomach twisted.

Why now?

Why was she risking everything today—her credibility, her department's future, her damn pride—on a man who once closed a neonatal unit because the ink didn't match on two contracts?

But then she remembered Benny's laughter. The real cost of silence.

She stepped inside.

—

Lucien Blackthorn didn't rise. Of course not.

He sat at the head of the room like a panther in Armani—still, poised, lethal in stillness. He didn't look at her. He didn't need to. His presence gripped the air like a vice.

Kade slid into a chair nearby, whispering, "He's in a mood. I think the espresso machine betrayed him."

Elaina scanned the room—grey suits, clipped nods, whispered power. She was the only one not made of money or marble.

The meeting droned on: numbers, expansion, merger forecasts. Lucien spoke sparingly, each word a blade. And then—

"Dr. Rivers. Your proposal."

Not a question. A summons.

Elaina stood. Her voice didn't shake. "I'm proposing a trauma wing expansion. We'd increase survival rates by 11.6%, and—"

"Cost?" Lucien cut in.

"9.2% of surplus over eighteen months. However, the long-term return includes both—"

"No," he said.

Just that. No warmth. No explanation.

She stared at him. "You didn't even let me finish."

Lucien finally looked at her.

God help her, his eyes were ice and fire. Cold and searing. They didn't soften. They assessed.

"Emotion doesn't equal strategy."

"Neither does apathy," she replied.

That got him.

His jaw ticked.

The room went quiet.

"I'm not here to beg," she continued. "But if you care about public image, long-term returns, and building trust, this is the moment. This is the one that defines you."

"Define me?" Lucien said coolly. "You think this hospital matters to me?"

She met his stare. "It could. If you let it."

He didn't blink.

But he didn't say no again, either.

Kade, beside her, leaned in. "You just made him blink. That's like—like—emotional CPR."

Lucien's voice snapped. "Mr. Kade, your commentary is not required."

"Just trying to interpret the glacier's mood swings," Kade murmured.

Lucien rose, finally. The room seemed to hold its breath as he walked to the window, spine straight, hands clasped.

Then: "Email me a revised projection with real numbers. You have three days."

He didn't look at her again.

But he had looked. And listened.

As the meeting ended, board members filed out with murmurs of surprise.

Elaina stood, breath still catching in her lungs. Kade gave her a conspiratorial smile.

"You lived," he whispered. "Which, statistically, puts you ahead of 70% of Lucien's past business partners."

She couldn't help it—she laughed.

But her heart pounded as she turned back toward the silent figure by the window.

She didn't know if she'd won anything. But she'd cracked something.

And now?

Now she wanted more than victory.

She wanted to break the glacier.

Even if she melted in the process.