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“My driver will take you back,” he told Florian. “Alia is coming with you. I want you to give her my laptop and the leather folder from the drawer in my desk.” It was empty, but it would look important. “Show her around first. Introduce her to everyone on our floor. Stay with her, but don’t rush her. Let her talk as much as she wants.” He was behaving about as subtly as a wolf marking his territory, but mark it he would. Lambros was not the alpha. He was.

Even when it took every ounce of his strength to rise and walk Florian down the stairs to the foyer.

“Is Alia’s number in here?” he asked Florian as he started to text her.

“I’m here.” Her voice came from the top of the stairs. She walked down with one hand on the rail, watching her step as she did.

She had changed into a belted ivory dress with a narrow skirt and four-inch heels that gave her a graceful, quietly powerful silhouette. Her hair was in a tidy bun and her lips wore a pinkish-fawn shade that made her look polished in a classy, understated way.

Beautiful, in fact.

A swell of pride rose in him. He didn’t like having to rely on anyone. Ever. But if he had to use an emissary, he was glad she would reflect so well on him.

She arrived at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at him. The vulnerability in her doe eyes pinched at something in his chest. All his attention was directed at how to counter Lambros’s machinations, but it struck him how physically small she was. And that his brother had dragged her into a fight with a man who wasn’t afraid to fight dirty.

“Ready?” She switched her attention to Florian and offered a disarming smile.

“If you are, yes.” Florian hurried toward the front door, opening it for her.

“Latria mou.” Spiro set a subtle hand on the thick marble of the pedestal table in the middle of his foyer, where a tall arrangement of fresh flowers sat in a vase. “You haven’t said goodbye to me.”

Playing at being married wasn’t necessary in front of Florian. He wouldn’t allow speculation one way or another within his earshot. But the green beast inside Spiro demanded this small show of fealty from Alia. He needed this act of obedience, this sealing of their alliance, before he sent her off to represent him.

The turmoil of his situation kept him on his feet, holding her gaze, as she smoothed her expression and came toward him.

“You should rest while I’m gone,” she murmured the way any solicitous wife would. She set her hand on his chest and lifted on her toes, trying to press her lips to his cheek.

He had an aversion to lipstick on his face. It reminded him of the way his mother still tried to silence his very valid condemnations of her husband with greasy smears of crimson.

He veered to press a kiss to the corner of Alia’s mouth, careful not to smudge the paint on her lips. A fresh sting of delight speared into him at the contact, though, making his blood thicken.

She jolted with response.

He set a steadying hand in the small of her back. They both held very still, bodies nearly pressed together, while he fought the temptation to wrap his arm fully around her and crush her against him.

A sudden and very carnal desire gripped him. An impulse to pick her up and devour her.

He clamped onto his self-discipline, only allowing his lips to skate across the soft skin of her cheek. He drank in the light fragrance of cosmetics and something like almonds and peach that emanated off her warm neck, feeling her shiver before he lifted his head and slowly released her.

Her eyelashes were fluttering. She swallowed and avoided his gaze.

“Don’t be long,” he said, exactly as a smitten husband would, but his voice had thickened. There was no irony, only gruff, hungry need.

“I won’t,” she said breathily and hurried out.

CHAPTER FOUR

What have I done?

Alia was still reliving her kiss with Spiro—one that had barely been a kiss at all, yet she had felt it all the way into her toes.

The whole way to the office building, she felt feverish, unable to forget the way his lips had parted against her skin as though he had wanted to taste her. The mere thought that he might kiss her properly sent a strike of lightning between her thighs, drenching her in arousal.

It was ridiculous. Mortifying! Especially with Florian and the driver sitting silently in the front of the car, leaving her to dwell in her guilty desire.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She knew why Julian had asked her to step in as Spiro’s wife: to create an obstacle for Lambros. She knew why she had agreed: for Yaya’s sake. But Julian and Khristos had both assured her this was in name only. A temporary measure.

Once Spiro awakened, they had promised, the marriage would be dissolved with as little fuss as possible.