Saturday, September 7, 2013

Rogue Phoenix Press Presents: Fire Underneath the Ice


Fire Underneath the Ice
R. S. Natanevin
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
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Downtown Toronto, September, 2008

Michael paced his large office back and forth. Karyn--classy, beautiful Karyn--would soon be in front of him. Perhaps he would have a chance to touch her. He neared the gilded mirror. The interior decorator had insisted on adding the expensive item to give the space reserved to his customers a friendly, almost intimate atmosphere. Michael stared at his reflection and adjusted the collar of his polo shirt. Tall and skinny, with a mane of unruly red curls, he wasn’t bad looking but not handsome either. His facial features were rather irregular--very pronounced nose and cheekbones and wind-catcher ears. He sighed. His appearance would have to do.

He moved near the marble coffee table and slumped in one of the easy chairs.

At five minutes past five o’clock Michael started to doubt Karyn would ever come. After all, she was the daughter of late millionaire Richard McDonnell and the sole heir of the family fortune. Four years ago, when her brother had died in a tragic accident, the tabloids had filled their pages with mourning Karyn, all dressed in black, tears incessantly raking her face. He remembered well the day of the funeral when he had approached her briefly to offer his condolences. Karyn had been devastated by grief.

Then came the rumor that the man in charge of the McDonnell’s affairs, Jean Berenson, had left for Europe and made investments over there. At Berenson’s death, two years ago, Karyn had taken over the estate, assisted by a corporate lawyer to help her untangle the complex financial situation. While still a very wealthy woman on paper, at present she was without liquid assets and had found it difficult to keep up with her standard of living.

He stopped pacing, walked over to the large window, and watched the traffic down in the street. It was a quarter past five now, and Karyn hadn’t arrived yet. It was foolish to think she would meet with a poor boy. An ex-poor boy, actually. Finally, at five-thirty, footsteps resounded crisply in the hallway. Glancing through the semi-open door he saw Karyn approaching the secretary’s desk.

His heart started to pound. Would he be able to carry out what he decided to do? Or would he give up before he even started?

Rather zippy and unusual descriptions add a clever touch throughout...
Snapdragon for Long and Short Reviews

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