Read The Ice Seduction (Ice Romance) for Free Online

do, I also realize how cold I am.
    It’s cold, cold, cold in this place, and I see ice crystals on the window.
    Boom, boom, boom!
    I hear a voice outside my door.
    ‘Young lady! I believe I told you to be up no later than six.’ It’s Agnes Calder. ‘It’s nearly eight.’
    Oh shit.
    I check my mobile phone to see what time it is, but the battery is completely dead.
    Now I know why my alarm didn’t go off.
    ‘Sorry,’ I call out. ‘My alarm battery died.’
    ‘We don’t tolerate excuses here,’ says Agnes. ‘Downstairs now . You’re to report straight to Mr Mansfield’s office – no time for breakfast. You have precisely three minutes to get dressed and washed. If you’re not ready by then, you can pack your bags and head home.’
    SHIT!
    I leap out of bed, forgetting totally about my ankle until a soaking wet hand towel slaps onto the floor.
    No wonder I’m cold – my foot is totally frozen. But Patrick was right – my ankle is better. It feels fine, actually. Almost good as new.
    I look down at the sleep-crumpled sweater and torn blue jeans I’m still wearing.
    Need to change, need to change …
    I rip open my bag and begin flinging clothes around. I like making my own stuff, or customizing thrift shop things, so I don’t have a lot of ‘serious’ clothes, and the few smart things I do have are back home. I wasn’t expecting an interview out here.
    Eventually, I settle on jet black skinny jeans that I’ve customized with studs o n the back pockets, and a sweatshirt I’ve screen printed myself that says, ‘Camden Town Ain’t Burning Down.’
    Like I said, I really didn’t expect to be interviewed, so … well, that’s the best I can do.
    The tiny ensuite has seen better days, but it has everything I need. I quickly use the toilet and brush my teeth, pulling my red hair up into something like a French pleat and securing it with … wait, where are my pins? Argh! No time to turn my bag out.
    Oh well. I brush my hair with my fingers and let it hang lose.
    I wish I had time to wash it and straighten it a little, but that’s not going to happen.
    Makeup – no time for that. I wash my face, wiping away yesterday’s mascara marks with a towel and catch a look at my pale, freckled face in the mirror.
    My pale eyebrows look almost invisible without makeup, and my eyelashes, what eyelashes?
    Okay, my eyes look okay. Sort of bright golden today. They always stand out – sometimes people ask if I’m wearing eyeliner even when I haven’t applied any at all.
    But all in all, I look stupidly young without makeup. I know some people think that’s a good thing, but really it’s a pain. I’m always getting asked for ID, and when I start a new job, it takes ages to convince people that I actually know what I’m doing.
    With seconds to spare, I pull on my brown cowboy boots and stumble towards the door, yanking it open.
    Mrs Calder looks startled when she sees me. Then she frowns. She’s wearing another funeral outfit today – a long black corduroy dress with flat black shoes, the sort of shoes you wear when you have foot problems.
    ‘Well.’ Mrs C alder raises an eyebrow. ‘It’s about time young lady.’ She purses her lips. ‘This is a working house. We have no time for layabouts.’
    ‘My alarm —’
    ‘Come with me.’ Mrs Calder turns and stalks off down the hallway, with me hurrying behind her.
    17
    I’m starving hungry and thirsty too, but I try to ignore that and focus on the maze of stairs and corridors, desperately trying to remember my way. I don’t want to get lost again. I felt like such an idiot yesterday.
    For a moment, my thoughts drift to Patrick Mansfield carrying me through the castle, but … get it together Sera!
    After five minutes of twisting and turning, we come to a stop by a huge oak door, and Mrs Calder raps on it hard with her knuckles.
    ‘Come in,’ booms a voice. That same beautiful deep voice that sent shudders all the way down to my ankles last night.
    I