Melting the Ice Queen ✔️

~6~

Two weeks.

Two. Freaking. Weeks.

That was how long it'd been since Scott had seen Alicia's face, a period that felt like the unfortunate collision between infinity and eternity. They hadn't communicated in any way—he hadn't even bumped into her in the hallway at the courthouse, for God's sake—and he had no idea how she was, whether she hated him, or whether she was, in fact, still alive.

The distance was all part of his plan, but that didn't mean it wasn't killing him.

He slumped in the chair behind his huge desk, planted his wing-tipped feet on top of the draft motion for summary judgment he was supposed to be reviewing, and pressed his skull between his hands. If he crushed it like an overripe cantaloupe until his brain oozed through his fingers, it would kill the splitting headache behind his eyes, right? And if he leaned the chair back just a little farther, crashed through the window and fell twenty-five stories to his death, it would feel better than the crawling-out-of-his-skin agitation that'd plagued him since he kicked Alicia out, wouldn't it?

No. It probably wouldn't.

Alicia.

How about if he switched to thinking about something else for a minute? That'd be a nice change. He gave it his best effort for ten seconds...and nope. Couldn't pull it off, which was a sad commentary on her superhuman powers over him.

They'd met two years ago, in court, when they tried to settle the world's nastiest divorce case—between a millionaire and his wife, a pair so thirsty for each other's blood that they'd made the couple in The War of the Roses look like cooing peace doves.

Their meeting had been plaguing him lately, big time. Maybe because that was the exact second his life changed forever, and he'd known it on some instinctual level, even then.

"Scott?"

He'd been sitting at a table in the attorney's conference room the day Alicia dazzled him for the first time, and the last thing he'd expected was for a woman to march in and turn life as he knew it upside down and inside out—

"Scott? Snap out of it!"

He started, coming out of the sweet memory with a crash. Cindi Kelly—an old law school friend who recently moved back to town and was now working at the firm—stood to one side of his desk, looking bemused.

He was not in the mood for teasing. "What?"

That made her laugh. "You're in bad shape."

No shit, Sherlock. What an insightful commentary on his precarious mental state. He tried to flatten her with death rays shot from his eyes, but she seemed impervious.

"Are we still on for the Barrister's Ball Saturday night?" she asked.

The local bar association's yearly shindig. "Absolutely."

"Are you sure this is a good plan?"

"It's a great plan," he said, infusing his voice with much more bravado than he felt.

Cindi looked dubious but didn't argue. "If you're sure then. Oh, and I'd better get out of here before Alicia comes up and sees us together."

"Bye," he said dully.

Hang on.

Alicia? Did Cindy just say that Alicia was here?

He tried to play it cool and not let too much of his wild hope show in his eyes. "Don't mess with me," he warned.

Cindy grinned with utmost glee and mischief. "Oh, didn't I mention? I was just at the receptionist's desk where a woman named Alicia Carroll was asking for you."

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