Secret Billionaire's Frosty Lover (The Secret Billionaires 3)

She let out a breath. The truth was, she wanted peace and quiet…but she also wanted the lodge. And Jack had left her enough money to keep it.

Her world had turned when Mur…no, when Dominic McCarthy had told her that. Jack hadn’t been all business—he had cared. It seemed he’d just been unable to show her that. Was Dominic like that too?

She’d have to be blind and dumb not to realize he had to be in the same league as Hamilton Marshall. She didn’t follow business news, didn’t really even know how to balance a checkbook—she was useless with numbers. But she got it that Dominic knew all that stuff and more.

How rich is he?

She shivered again. Clouds had swept in on the wind, moving fast. She looked up and saw the dark thunderheads. She needed to get back. Now.

She started down the trail and the first snowflakes drifted out of the sky. She laughed and held out her hands. And then it started snowing. In ten minutes, she could hardly make out the trail. She kept one hand on the mountain side and slowed her speed. It would be very bad if she fell off a cliff in this weather. Her teeth started to chatter together and even though she was sweating from the hike down, she could feel her fingers and toes chilling. She’d dressed for a nice fall day, not a snow storm. She’d been an idiot.

Stopping in a curve in the trail, she found a little protection from the wind. She pulled out her cell phone. No signal. She sent a text for help anyway and prayed it would get through.

And she started down the hill again. She had no idea how far she’d made it. The world was shifting into white. White sky. White ground. White in front of her and under her and above her. Keeping her eyes down, she put one foot in front of the other. Just keep going. The snow piled up around her and she wished for her skis. They would have saved her. They would have made her fast.

She heard a voice, half carried away on the wind. She stopped. It was getting harder to see—easier to walk off the path and off a cliff.

The voice rang out again, calling her name. She started to follow that voice. That would guide her home.

***

Dominic watched the snow start to come down. He stared at it—and he was willing to be snowed in by nightfall. He grinned. At least Paris wouldn’t be able to kick him out.

Heading back to the bar, he saw Michael on the phone—the landline. Lines tightened on Michael’s forehead and his voice dropped to a worried, gravely tone. He hung up and Dominic walked over to him. “What’s up?”

Michael swallowed and his throat worked. “Paris—she went for a hike and she’s not back.”

“Hike? In this?”

“It wasn’t snowing an hour ago. But we’ll have a foot in the next two hours—that’s the forecast. I was just on the phone with search and rescue. They’re going to get a team together, but it’ll take them an...Wait, where you going?”

“After Paris,” Dominic shouted, already running for the door. A blast of cold hit him as soon as he pulled the front door open. He slammed it shut and bolted for his room. It wouldn’t do Paris any good if he froze his own ass. Grabbing a coat—and a spare for her—he glanced around his room. But there was nothing here to help him. His money wasn’t of any use now.

Running downstairs, he yelled to Michael, “Where did she go?”

“South trail. It’s her favorite. It’s marked, but I don’t know if you’ll see it.”

“I’ll find it. Call nine-one-one, call everyone. And get those damn rescue people on the move.” He headed out into the snow. The stuff stuck to his face, to his lashes, froze his nose. But he started calling Paris’ name.

The cold bit his throat and his mouth, but he kept thinking of Paris. Had she taken a coat with her? Or anything? Was she out there frozen already?

“No, dammit,” he muttered. He was not giving up on her the way his father had given up on him. He was going to find her and drag her ass back here.

He yelled again for her, and again, and again. He yelled until his voice hoarsened. And then he heard an answer—faint and soft. “Dom?”

Chapter Seventeen

Dominic found the sign

for the trail first—half covered in snow. He started up. Rocks slipped out from under his shoes. He had to slow his speed. He kept calling for Paris, kept shouting, realized he should have brought a flashlight. Pulling out his smart phone, he turned on the light setting and yelled, “Follow the light!”

He met up with Paris not far up the trail. She was staggering and shivering. He wrapped his coat around her and then his arms. “You okay? You okay?” He kept asking the same question, but she was shivering too hard to answer.

Keeping his arms around her, he started down the trail, but it was too narrow. He dragged off his coat and put that on her, too. “Keep going,” he said.

The rescue team met them at the trail head. Someone wrapped a blanket around him, someone else took Paris from him. They bundled her into a vehicle of some kind, tried to do the same with him, but he shook them off and said, “Make sure she’s okay.”

And then she was gone—safe now, off to a hospital, he hoped. He staggered back to the lodge and found Michael waiting for him. “She’s safe.” Dominic shivered.