A Summer With Snow (Frosted Seasons #1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

on the bed, and me placing it down on the table; stupidly, I never told her what it was for. I couldn’t face her, I couldn’t turn back and look her in the eyes, because if I had I would have walked back over and joined her on the bed. I’d crossed a line, a line that was not mine to cross. She was someone in the past I should have left well alone. Yet the thought of her is driving me crazy. But why her? A fuck’s a fuck and I’ve had plenty, but maybe being a forbidden fruit is the key she holds.
    I can almost smell the floral fragrance of her long dark hair. I squeeze my eyes together and see that face, her unspoilt beauty. It’s like she sits in my head, with a smile on her lips, but why can’t I let her go?
    “How’s the family?” Chase probes again.
    My thoughts are broken, and Darcy slips away.
    “What’s it to you?” I snap, then see the frown he passes me.
    “The funeral,” he adds.
    “Yeah, alright as funerals go. They were mainly friends…” I roll my eyes. “I didn’t know most of them to be honest, just smiled and made polite conversation. Family wise there was a couple of aunts, Darcy, my older sister and a couple of kids, I presume they were hers.”
    “For God’s sake, Snow, you must know your family.”
    I pause, and think back to the night of the funeral.
    “You know I was fostered, so there were no blood relatives,” I’m quick to add. Yet look what I’ve just done! She’s not blood, she’s nothing to me. God, Snow, you fucking moron , I chastise myself.
    Chase knows me well and must be able to sense the change in my tone. He doesn’t question me further, so I close my eyes again and plan to keep them that way until I reach my hotel. Though I appear asleep, my mind is wide awake and thoughts of Darcy keep prodding at me, not allowing me to rest. I was such a bastard; she told me her feelings, she made them more than clear, and all I did was fuck her and fuck off. I am cossetted by the motion of the car, but my stomach feels unsettled; is the guilt creeping in? No, I don’t feel emotion, so again I put it down to jet lag.
    I strum my fingers over and over on my thigh. I’m sure going to need my rest with Vanessa paying me a visit later. She’s an ice maiden as cold as me, and pretty much on heat twenty-four hours a day; now that’s what I call a fuck. Not the lame excuse and flowery love-making that Darcy thinks it should be. Yet her name makes itself at home inside my head, and I can’t seem to shake free. I am overwhelmed by a strange tingling, as though her hands are making their way down my spine; then I sense her lips, her soft kisses. God, Snow, you fucking pussy, pull yourself together.
    The car jolts, waking me up, and I sit up straight. I know these speed bumps like the back of my hand; we are heading up the tree-lined driveway towards the marble steps and glass frontage of my hotel. As we near, I gaze up at the bold gold lettering: The Seasons Hotel. This is definitely number one in my growing chain of hotels scattered around the world.
    I undo my seatbelt as the engine is switched off. Chase wastes no time in opening my door. I make my way up the marble steps, leaving him to follow me in with my luggage.
    I shiver as I walk from hot to cold, blasted by the hotel’s air-con. I look around and shake my head. I can see I’ve been away; holidaymakers’ suitcases are strewn untidily in the lobby. An accident waiting to happen, yet my staff seem oblivious. I click my fingers, and Carlos, my duty manager, runs out from behind the reception desk.
    “I want these out of here, now,” I order, shooting a stare towards the cases.
    He nods and scurries away.
    “Here, sir.” Amparo catches my attention.
    A petite Mexican waitress stands holding a silver tray, on which sit an uncorked bottle of champagne and a glass. I don’t acknowledge her or wait for her to pour my drink, but take the bottle by the neck and grab the glass as an afterthought.
    “Sir, Rayne wishes to