Chapter 004

Dolly’s POV

Avoiding a grown man should not require Olympic-level sprinting. Especially after a hot, confusing movie night.

The day already felt heavy because I woke up sweating, but not from nightmares just from my memories of Jace.

His voice at my ear.

His hand on my waist.

The weight of his chest behind my back.

Stop thinking about him, Dolly.

Except I couldn’t.

Which was exactly why I was hiding behind shrubbery like a criminal.

Too bad Lena never missed anything.

“There you are,” she said, bursting into my room without knocking — because privacy meant nothing to her. “Why are you acting like you saw a ghost? A rich, annoyingly attractive ghost who reads books and has perfect hair?”

I was brushing my teeth and nearly choked on the foam.

“Lena,” I said after spitting, “why would you describe your own father like that?”

She shrugged. “I’m not blind. The man is hot. Very emotionally unavailable, but hot.”

“Can we not…”

“But you,” she continued, pointing at me like a lawyer about to present evidence, “are acting like someone who did something suspicious last night.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re lying.”

“That’s rude.”

“Still true.”

I rolled my eyes and reached for my sweater. “I’m just… tired.”

“From running laps around the lodge every time my dad enters a room?”

“I’m not avoiding him.”

“You literally used a decoration as camouflage.” “I panicked.” “You yipped.” “It was a large, intimidating plant, Lena.”

Lena folded her arms and stared.

“Okay, before you say anything,” Lena said, already sprawled across my bed like she teleported there, “I need you to know I’m in love.”

I blinked at her. “With what? The pastries downstairs?”

“No. A woman.” She flopped onto her stomach, kicking her feet in the air. “My boss.”

I stared. “Your boss—the one who speaks in full-stop sentences and terrifies grown men?”

“That’s the one.” She pressed a hand dramatically to her chest. “She told me yesterday my report was ‘acceptable.’ Dolly… that is the sexiest word I’ve ever heard.”

Despite myself, I laughed. “So you’re into older women now?”

“I’m into power,” she corrected. “And sharp jawlines. And people who could fire me before breakfast. It’s very erotic.”

I shook my head. “Lena, that’s not healthy.”

“Oh, of course not,” she said brightly. “But that’s what makes it fun.”

She propped her chin on her hands and narrowed her eyes at me. “Now your turn. Why do you look like you barely slept? And don’t say it’s the cold. Or altitude. Or hormones. I know your face too well.”

I swallowed.

She arched a brow, waiting.

Before she could interrogate further, she slid off the bed, grabbed my wrist, and tugged. “Come on, we need breakfast. And caffeine. And sunlight. And maybe therapy. But mostly breakfast.”

And the moment she opened the hallway door… everything started to spiral.

The kitchen was warm, buzzing with holiday chaos. Staff moved around prepping brunch, Lena stole pastries off trays, and I tried to look like a girl who was completely normal and unaffected and not hiding from anybody’s father.

Then he walked in.

Jace Steadman.

Black sweater. Dark slacks. Rolled-up sleeves.

A presence that filled the room like gravity.

I panicked so hard I almost dropped my mug.

He glanced at me — barely.

Just enough to acknowledge I existed.

Just enough to wreck my heartbeat.

Then he returned to speaking with a chef about inventory.

I turned to Lena, whispering, “See? I’m not avoiding him.”

She deadpanned. “You’re whispering behind a pillar.”

I was about to fire back something brilliant and definitely not pathetic when a new voice slid into the kitchen air like velvet.

“Well, well. The famous Dolly Parton."

I stiffened.

Cassian North strolled in like he was descending a runway.

Expensive coat.

Sharp grin.

Eyes that said I smell chaos, and I want more.

Behind him trailed one of his assistants holding a tablet, but Cassian barely noticed her. He noticed me.

Immediately.

“Sweetheart,” he said, taking my hand without permission, “you didn’t tell me the lodge was this charming.”

I blinked. “Um… I didn’t tell you anything. I’ve never talked to you.”

He smiled wider. “Details.”

Lena gagged. Loudly. “Cass, please spare us. She’s fragile.”

“Fragile?” he echoed, eyes dancing. “She doesn’t look fragile.”

He stepped closer.

Way too close.

I could smell his cologne, winter spice, expensive and sharp — and he was looking at me like he wanted to unwrap me like a present.

My stomach flipped.

Not because I wanted him.

But because Jace had just walked back in.

And he saw everything.

The way Cassian had my hand.

How close he was standing.

How I was slightly boxed against the counter.

Jace’s expression didn’t change dramatically.

He didn’t shout.

Didn’t growl.

Instead — his jaw tightened.

His shoulders stiffened.

His eyes cooled with this subtle, lethal heat that made every hair on my neck rise.

It was the calmest show of jealousy I’d ever witnessed.

Cassian caught it immediately. He leaned even closer, voice dropping.

“If you want a real tour of the place, just say the word.”

My heart tripped.

Not because of Cassian…but because Jace took one step forward.

Just one.

Enough to shift the whole kitchen.

Cassian grinned. “Morning, Steadman.”

Jace’s answer was a stare that could’ve leveled cities.

Cassian laughed and finally let go of my hand. “Touchy.”

I wanted to sink into the floor.

Jace walked past us, back straight, face unreadable — but the tension radiating off him was unmistakable.

Lena leaned toward me and whispered, “Oh, he’s pissed.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re in SO much trouble.”

****

I didn’t intend to confront him.

Really.

I meant to avoid him. Again. Forever. Possibly until Easter.

But of course the universe hates me, because after lunch I turned a corner in the guest hallway and nearly walked straight into him. No staff. No voices. Just the two of us in a long, quiet corridor lined with Christmas garlands and warm lights—way too intimate, way too silent, and way too much for my already-fried nerves.

He was coming from the opposite end, phone in hand. I could’ve turned around, could’ve pretended I forgot something.

But I stopped.

He stopped too.

Wonderful.

Perfect.

Time to die.

My mouth acted before my brain could intervene. “Why are you acting weird?”

He slipped his phone into his pocket. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I’m not acting weird.”

“You glared at Cassian like you wanted to throw him off the balcony.”

“That’s not…”

“Normal people don’t react like that.”

“I did not glare.”

“You definitely did.”

He exhaled slowly, the kind of breath someone takes when they’re trying very hard not to say something explosive.

My hands fidgeted with the blanket I’d been carrying, the one he’d left on me last night.

I shoved it at him. “You forgot this.”

His hand came up too fast, too sure — covering mine, pushing the blanket gently back toward me.

“You keep it.”

My chest tightened.

“I don’t want to keep it.”

“Yes, you do.”

His fingers brushed mine a second too long.

Heat shot up my arm like a spark meeting gasoline.

I stepped back.

He stepped forward.

Suddenly, the wall was at my back again, cold against my sweater while his presence filled all the space in front of me.

His hand came up, bracing beside my head on the wall, not touching me, not yet, but close enough that every nerve in my body leaned toward him in betrayal.

“Dolly.”

My name in his voice was a problem.

A very real, very dangerous problem.

He lowered his head slightly, eyes pinning me. “I need you to listen.”

My breath shook. “I—I am listening.”

His fingers curled against the wall.

Then he said it in a soft, controlled and devastating manner.

“Don’t sit on another man’s lap. Ever.”

My brain shut down.

Everything inside me short-circuited.

Heat rushed up my neck so fast I nearly swayed.

“You can’t just say things like that,” I whispered.

His gaze dropped to my lips. “I just did.”

Silence crackled.

My pulse thudded so hard I felt it everywhere — throat, ribs, hips.

“Why does it matter?” I forced out.

His answer was quiet. Barely a breath.

“It matters.”

He didn’t explain.

And I didn’t think.

I didn’t plan.

One moment I was breathing,

the next I was kissing him.

Or he was kissing me.

Or gravity pulled us together.

Our mouths crashed hard, urgent, too much, not enough and his hand immediately slid to my waist, gripping tight, pulling me against him like he’d been starving for this.

I gasped.

He deepened the kiss.

His other hand came up to cradle my jaw, thumb stroking once, rough and tender both at once.

My fingers curled in his shirt, clinging.

Every breath was a fire.

Every second felt like falling.

This was wrong.

So wrong.

He was Lena’s father.

Older.

Off-limits in every possible way.

But none of it mattered.

Not when he kissed me like this.

Not when his body pressed against mine like he needed me to breathe.

Not when I tasted every restrained, controlled, forbidden thing he’d been holding back.

We broke apart — violently, breathlessly — like two people ripping themselves away from something intoxicating.

His chest rose and fell hard.

My lips tingled.

My knees wobbled.

This should never have happened.

And that was exactly when disaster arrived.

“Well.”

Bianca’s voice cut through the hallway like a blade.

We froze.

She stood at the corner, arms folded, smile sharp as a glass ornament.

Jace straightened instantly.

I stepped back so fast I nearly tripped.

Bianca’s gaze flicked between us —

my swollen lips,

his disheveled hair,

the distance that wasn’t nearly enough.

Her smile widened slowly.

“Oh,” she said lightly. “This is going to be… fun.”

And just like that…

I knew:

Christmas was about to get a whole lot worse.