They walked out of the restaurant, her hand in his, their fingers entwined. A strange intimacy with a man she barely knew.
Except it was acting. A role she was playing. Not so different from how she moved through the world usually—with a layer, a mask of armor. This was just a different kind. Instead of toughness, she had to appear…connected to someone.
Admittedly, she was struggling to know what that looked like enough to act it out.
But Zervou seemed to know. He led her outside and to his limousine. He opened the back door for her, but before he let her go to slide into the seat, he lifted her hand to his mouth.
He brushed his lips across her knuckles, the contact featherlight but somehow like an arrow. Sharp and piercing through the very center of her. A kind of yearning she associated with being hungry…pain and want intertwining with frustration of needs not met.
Her gaze flicked to his. That smug smile on his face.
He understood he was having an effect on her, physically at least. Which was infuriating in a way she didn’t know what to do about. How did you fight someone like this?
You are a fighter, Ari. You will figure it out.
You have to.
Chapter Six
As they droveback to Ariadne’s apartment, Zervou considered the dinner quite the success. Not only had he gotten some background into Ariadne and her father’s mark on her life—something that assured him his plan would work—but he’d also noticed some curious gazes from the people in the restaurant. No doubt whispers would start regarding him and his new dinner companion.
Everything was going according to plan. He only needed one more thing tonight. When they arrived at her apartment building, he pushed open his door.
“You are not coming up,” Ariadne said. He would almost call it something like panic in her tone. An interesting concept. This woman who could defend herself in just about every physical way possible was…panicked at the idea of him going up to her apartment?
Yes, there were still depths to mine when it came to Ariadne Malis.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Did you fancy yourself in charge?”
She frowned at him. “It is best if my mother doesn’t interact with you until I can ensure she understands what’s happening.”
Zervou got to his feet and closed his door, moving around the back of the vehicle so he could open hers. She had not waited for him, but she had not managed to get out of the seat yet.
“I do not need to engage with your mother,” Zervou said, holding out his hand for her to take. “The whispers will have started. I can hardly drop you off at the curb, Ariadne. At the very least, you must allow me to behave a gentleman and walk you to your door.”
“I do not think anyone in this neighborhood moves in the same circles asyoufor you to worry about anyone seeing such a thing,” she replied, though she gingerly placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her out of the car.
“You would be surprised, Ariadne, just how much interest you garner and how even whispers that start here could reach people who want to be reached by them.” He walked with her up the stairs to her apartment door. “Even now, someone could be watching.”
She snorted inelegantly. “Yes, someone who wishes to relieve you of your wallet and phone.”
Zervou did not bother to argue with her. She was not used to moving through the world with eyes on her at the level he was. Someone would be watching. Someone would mention it to someone and so on.
By tomorrow morning, the interest in Ariadne Malis, excellent boxer, would be piqued. He would no doubt have people calling him, suddenly wanting to invite him to even more dinners, events. All so they could maybe ask a question or catch a glimpse that might allow them to be the first to know why Zervou Kritikos would be seen in the same orbit as a female boxer from the absolute wrong neighborhood.
Besides, he had no doubt Erjon’s minions would be the type to skulk about this neighborhood. But he did not want to point that out to Ariadne if she did not already know it.
They reached her door, and she quickly retrieved her keys from her purse, extricated herself from his hold and moved to unlock the door.
“Ariadne.”
Her shoulders stiffened, and he watched as she very purposefully rolled them into relaxing. She turned to face him, chin lifted.
Fists clenched. Always ready to fight. He did not know why he found that so enticing. He would have thought he’d had enough fighting in his life. Her, too.
But here he was, fascinated, intrigued, wanting to know just how far it would take to snap that careful control of hers. Because she was always ready to fight, but she also held it in check.
So he stepped forward, because he would have to find a way under her natural propensities if they were to succeed in their mission. “Whether you like it or not, you have agreed to something. And that means behaving.”
