Gap Cold Control Jacket Novels & Stories

The extremely important folder containing my visa and passport was already tucked inside safely as I paced around my room for any overlooked possessions. Liza came over early to make sure I didn’t completely lose my shit, and was watching me with amusement. “Do you think this is a warm enough outfit? It’s like 20 below in Tobolsk right now.” I gestured to the black puffy aconcagua jacket, skin tight black leggings with a cozy fleece interior, and a pair of knee high black boots I purchased recently from Old Navy. I’d also be sporting a blush pink angora sweater underneath. It was way too hot to wear right now, but I planned on keeping the clothing handy for when I got laid over in New York C

“You’ll want this back.” He didn’t even glance my way. Just leaned his head back against the seat, eyes half-lidded like he was somewhere else entirely. “It’s not cold.” His gaze flicked toward me then. “It’s not about the cold.” Beside me, the jacket felt heavier now. Not because it was thick or warm, but because it wasn’t mine. It was his. And because of it, every fiber reeked of control. I clenched my jaw and leaned against the tinted window, watching dim street lights smear gold across wet pavement. Galli’s men weren’t staring anymore. But the feeling hadn’t left. Like I was still exposed. Still vulnerable. Still—