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I stared at him. Was he serious? Talk about mixed messages. Not that I cared about the dress in any way.
I grabbed a bunch of clothes before I stepped back into the changing room and took off the dress. “Tell me, is split personality disorder something that runs in your family?”
I could hear his low chuckle from behind the curtain. “No, we got a couple of megalomaniacs, though.”
I smiled. At least he had a sense of humor. “Narcissistic tendencies—yeah, that probably checks out.”
For the next half hour, I tried everything on, from T-shirts and summer dresses to jeans, shorts, and underwear—which I did not present to Alex.
He was the perfect gentleman—if he wasn’t on the phone. Even though his eyes told a story of their own, his words and actions were perfectly acceptable.
Tame.
Controlled.
When I had chosen what I needed to survive for the next couple of days, I dressed in my old clothes and then left the changing room.
“Don’t you want to wear some of the new clothes,” Alex asked while looking me up and down.
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance even as my heartbeat quickened. Having his sole attention on my body and my clothes was unnerving. “Clothes are clothes. What matters is what’s underneath.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth—and I saw his eyes darken—I knew they were a mistake.
He tugged me close—breaking the no-touching rule. “Is that an invitation?” His voice was low and sexy, and he looked like a black panther, ready to attack. “Because I’d love to find out what’s underneath.”
I wrenched away, pulse-pounding.
This man was dangerous in more ways than one. His wealth and power were weapons he wielded without thought, but his dominance and attention were intoxicating.
He laid his hand on the back of my neck and squeezed, his eyes boring into mine.
My heart thrummed in my chest, and for the first time, there wasn’t that initial fear in my reaction. For the first time since before being captured and held hostage, lust pooled deep in my core.
I couldn’t look away.
Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
It felt as if he was bypassing my protective barriers and staring right into my soul, seeing the real me—the me from before.
Fuck.
Then the left corner of his mouth twitched into a lethal smile. He got me. Knew how he’d affected me.
“Interesting.”
As if the word broke the spell he had over me, I could suddenly move again.
I loosened his grip from my neck, took a step back, and crossed my arms. “Why are you doing this?” I demanded.
He gave me a one-sided shrug.
“You said you didn’t like me, so why do you look at me like this?”
He shrugged again.
But the way he was looking at me made me feel like an insect under the microscope. Or a riddle he was trying to figure out.
I waved a hand at the piles of clothes. “Thanks for the clothes.”
