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Her gaze breaks from mine and she stares at her own reflection. “So do I.”

Her words seem almost wrenched from within, a confession she wishes she hadn’t given. I approach the platform slowly, ready to halt if she shows any signs of bolting.

“Would you like me to zip you up?”

Her shudder is so slight I almost miss it. It takes every ounce of willpower not to let my satisfaction show on my face when she gives me a slight nod.

“Please.”

I step onto the dais. Inches separate us. She releases her hold on the fabric. For a moment, the cloth gapes, giving me an even better view of her bare back. I grasp the top of the dress with onehand and use the other to slowly slide the zipper up, conscious of the heat emanating from her naked skin.

I remember kissing my way down every inch of her spine, the way her body arched and twisted toward my touch. Remember her suddenly moving on top of me, grabbing me with one hand and guiding me into the wet heat of her body as she sank down, asking me to make her forget for just a little while.

I hold her gaze with mine in the mirror, never blinking as I let my knuckles graze the skin between her shoulder blades, savor the parting of her lips and the quick, harsh exhale that lets me know she is just as affected as I am. By the time I’m done, I’m not sure if I’ve ever been this aroused in my entire life, simply with the act of helping a woman get dressed.

“You look beautiful.”

She blinks, then looks down. I see her eyes focused on her stomach. I take a risk and place my hands on her shoulders.

“Alessandra.” Her eyes shoot up to mine in the mirror. “Beautiful.”

She stares at me like she’s seen a ghost. As if she can’t quite believe I’m telling the truth. A realization that makes something twist in my chest.

Before I can reassure her, feminine voices come from outside the dressing area. I release her shoulders and take a step down as Yvette and Agatha come around the corner.

“Oh!” Yvette smiles at me as she walks over with several other dresses draped in her arms. “Mr. Sullivan, what do you think?”

“It will be a hard choice.” I glance back at Alessandra, who’s now watching me with caution. “But my wife has excellent taste and sound judgment. I know she’ll make the right decision.”

Alessandra frowns. I smile at her, nod to Yvette and Agatha and then make my way back to the front of the store. I’ve unsettled her. Hopefully shown her that I can offer hersomething more than a planned marriage of convenience. It’s just the first step, but with this interaction, I’ve confirmed that our desire for each other hasn’t dimmed. No, if anything, it’s grown, driven to new heights by our separation these past five months and the intimacy we find ourselves in with impending parenthood.

I’ll use whatever I can to my advantage. But as I settle down in the chair and pull out my phone again, I can’t help but wonder what price I will have to pay to secure Alessandra’s surrender.

CHAPTER TEN

Alessandra

I feel likea princess. I’m standing on a marble balcony overlooking the cerulean waters of the Aegean Sea. The room behind me is the size of my apartment, complete with a massive bed on a raised dais, a clawfoot soaking tub in the ensuite bathroom and deep blue tufted furniture that invites one to laze away an entire day napping or reading.

Too bad my nerves are wound so tight I feel like I might snap. It’s not just being back in Santorini, although that certainly doesn’t help. Every time I catch the sweet, floral scent of the bright pink bougainvillea flowers, I’m thrust back to the moment Michail pressed me into a tumble of blooms and branded me with a kiss I felt all the way to my soul. Whenever I stare out over the ocean, I see Michail walking through the door of the bar, his eyes locking onto mine as if he’d been looking for me.

I sigh and lean on the railing. The memories I spent months trying to suppress are everywhere. The pain is still there, but it’s no longer acute. Now there’s confusion. I was so convinced I wanted nothing to do with Michail Sullivan.

But each passing day ushers in realizations about the man I married. Details like how he funded a world-renowned boutique for a friend of his mother’s, or how his desire to give me asmall fortune is rooted in watching his mom struggle through his childhood.

A knock sounds on my door.

“Come in.”

Michail walks in and quietly closes the door behind me. My heart starts beating in triple time. The more time I spend with him, the more I question my resistance. Yes, there’s the potential for heartbreak. But more and more I’m seeing the other side, the possibility that Michail and I could find our own version of happiness. Is it possible that, in time, he might be able to let himself feel more for me? The thought is simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.

“The limo will be here in an hour.”

“Okay.” He glances at the dress draped across the bed. “Are you going to keep me in suspense until we leave?”

It takes a moment for me to realize he’s teasing.

“Well, since you paid, I’ll give you a preview.”