Speaker 1: Calorogu Shark Media, Hello, and welcome to Romance Weekly. This
episode is titled Frost and Fire, Episode three. Melting Point.
Speaker 2: Blood looks different on snow, brighter, more accusing. I watch
it drip from my shoulder onto pristine white, Each drop
a memory I'd rather forget. Hold still, Gabriel's voice is
tight as he cleans the Gray's wound. We're in his suite,
the storm still raging outside, the echo of gunshots still
ringing in my ears. It's nothing, I say, but my
voice shakes, not from pain, from how close that bullet
came to something vital, how close they all came.
Speaker 1: Nothing.
Speaker 2: His hands pause on my bare shoulder. Alexei, Winter's just
tried to kill you. That's not nothing, No, but it's
not surprising either. I'd known the risks when I'd chose
aen FBI protection over family loyalty, known what would happen
if the Winter's ever found me. He wasn't trying to
kill me. I closed my eyes, remembering the look in
Alexey's eyes before he fired. He was sending a message,
which is that I have until Christmas Day to return
what I stole from them. Gabriel's fingers tightened on my skin.
And what exactly did you steal? The real question, the
one I've been avoiding since he arrived, since Monaco, since Paris,
everything I whisper, I stole everything. His hands still on
my wound. Tell me. I turned to face, not caring
that I'm half undressed, that his fingers are still on
my skin, that the line between agent and lover blurred
long ago, five years ago. The Winter's had a master
ledger every contact, every fence, every dirty deal for the
past twenty years. It was their insurance policy. I swallow
hard until I took it. That's why you ran His
eyes search mine, why you went straight. I gave most
of it to Interpal, kept enough to ensure my safety.
My laugh is bitter, fat, lot of good that did,
And now they want it back. No, I stand, letting
his hand fall away. They want revenge. The Ledger was
just business, but betraying the family. I moved to the window.
Watch snow. Paint everything clean and white. That's personal. He follows,
his reflection, appearing behind mine in the glass, not telling
me everything. No, I turn to face him, just like
you're not telling me why you were really in Monaco?
His smile is sharp. You think that was a setup,
wasn't it? Instead of answering, he kisses me hard, demanding
nothing like the playful kisses in Monaco, Nothing like the
heated ones in the vault. This is raw truth, stripped
of pretense. Feel like a setup. He breathes against my mouth.
My back hits the cold window as he presses closer. No,
I gasp as his mouth finds my throat. Doesn't feel
like a setup. What does it feel like? Like danger?
My hand's fist in his shirt like truth? His laugh
vibrates against my skin. Since when does Lucia Frost care
about truth? Since you? The words escape before I can
stop them. He pulls back, studies my face in the
storm dark room. Prove it? How tell me what else
you stole from the winters. His thumb traces my bottom lip.
Tell me why Alexey looked at you like a man betrayed,
not just a thief betrayed. The truth burns in my
throat like the first sip of expensive whisky, like desire.
I was supposed to marry him. I whisper unite the families,
continue the legacy. His hand tightens on my hip and
instead instead I took their secrets, their connections, their trust.
I meet his eyes, their future. When the night before
the wedding, my laugh is shaky, left him at the
altar with an empty safe and a good bye note.
Gabriel's other hand slides into my hair, grips gently. That's
why they won't stop hunting you. Would you? I arch
into his touch if I'd done that to you? His
kiss is the answer, possessive, demanding, full of dark promise.
I did hunt you across three continents, and now that
you've caught me. Now his hand slide lower, making my
breath catch. I have to decide what to do with you.
What are your options? I can barely think with his
mouth tracing fire down my throat. Turn you in, protect you,
or or his teeth graze my pulse point Help you
end this once and for all. I pull back enough
to see his face. Why would you risk your career
for me? Because Monaco wasn't a set up? His eyes
hold mine intense in the storm light, because Paris wasn't
just a chase. Because every time I got close to
catching you, I fell a little harder. Gabriel, let me
help you, Lutia, His forehead rests against mine, let me
in the storm, howls outside, matching the chaos in my heart.
Trust isn't in my nature. The winter's taught me better.
But here, with his body pressing me against cold glass,
with his hands mapping my scars, with truth finally spilling
between us, there's a safety deposit box, I whisper in Geneva.
Everything the winters want is there, including including proof that
Alexey's father ordered three hits on rival dealers, that the
family's been laundering money through legitimate jewelers for decades. That
his kiss silences me, hungry, desperate, like he's trying to
taste the secrets on my tongue. When we break for air,
his smile is dangerous, You beautiful, brilliant thief, ex thief,
still brilliant. His hands slide under my thighs, lifting me.
Still beautiful, Still dangerous, I warn, even as my legs
wrap around his waist. Good. He carries me toward the bedroom,
because what I want to do to you?
Speaker 1: Right now?
Speaker 2: A phone rings, his phone, the official one, Reality cres back.
He sets me down, carefully, answers with his FBI voice Chase.
I watch his face change as he listens, see the
agent replace the lover. When he hangs up, his eyes
are grim. They found Marcus Kane, the maintenance man dead. No,
his jaw tightens talking. He gave up the whole plan,
the Christmas Day heist, the real target. My blood runs cold,
which is not the Petrov exhibition. He moves to the window,
stares into the storm. You. They're coming for you, Lucia,
all of them, the whole family. I think of the
ledger in Geneva, of Alexey, at the altar of everything
I stole and everyone I betrayed. Let them come. I
press myself against Gabriel's back. Feel him shiver. I'm done running.
His hands cover mine. Then let's give them a Christmas
they'll never forget. Outside, the storm begins to ease, But inside,
something far more dangerous is brewing, and this time I'm
not facing it alone.
Speaker 1: Romance Weekly is a production of Calaroga Shark Media executive
producers Mark Francis and John McDermott. Portions of this podcast
may have been created with the assistance of Ai
Speaker 2: Calaroga Shark Media