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His expression grew challenging, which did nothing to calm her nerves. When he looked like that, she wasn’t at all sure what he’d do next.
“Tell me you don’t feel this…pull between us.”
“I…I have to get ready now.” She stood and grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair. “Thank you for dinner.” She headed toward the stairs.
“Zoey, wait.”
She turned to look at him.
“Is it because of what I said earlier? About not having children?”
She swallowed the dryness in her mouth and was grateful she didn’t have to look him in the eyes.
“Yeah,” she lied. “That’s it.”
In truth, the mutation in her genes would override any other inherited diseases. If they had babies together, he’d have to worry about their children inheriting supernatural diseases, not neurological ones.
She left the room, but not before she caught the flash of hurt in his expression. One more reason she shouldn’t linger in Cleveland. The longer she remained, the more likely she would leave a permanent scar.
She navigated the stairs by focusing on each individual step. Why hadn’t her mother warned her how attracted she would be to a burner? She’d only mentioned their rarity and the power they generated. Not that she’d want to rip his clothes off every time she got too close.
She twisted the doorknob with slick palms and entered her room, her stomach doing a series of flip turns. How would she ever manage to stand by Tristan’s side and play the role of his date tonight when every molecule in her wanted it to be true?
A long, slow shiver slithered down her spine. And what if Dominic Raines had figured out her identity and arranged for her capture?
She moved to her suitcase and unzipped it, pulling out the party dress and shaking it in front of her, looking for wrinkles. Thankfully, the wine stain wasn’t noticeable. Was it only yesterday she’d worn this dress at Tristan’s home? What if she were recognized tonight by someone who knew her? It would be impossible to relax until the evening was over, and she was on the early morning flight to Boston.
Satisfied her outfit was in good shape, she undressed and tugged the garment over her head, eyeing herself in the full-length mirror in the humongous bathroom. The cut made her appear sleek and sophisticated even though she knew she was neither.
Her hands trembled as she added the sparkling costume jewelry to the ensemble. How would she be able to keep a low profile at the party when all eyes would be on her as Tristan’s date? Would Kinetica’s spies be present, waiting for the right moment to grab her?
She studied her reflection in the mirror, noticing the tiredness in her eyes and the apprehension on her face. A stranger stared back at her—red lips, pale skin, sad green eyes, and the blonde wig so different from her thick dark hair. Who was this person she’d become, flinching at shadows and unable to respond when a handsome man paid her attention? If only she were an ordinary girl living an ordinary life.
She stuck her tongue out, defying her troubled thoughts, then slipped into her heels and grabbed her purse.She took a parting look around the cheerful bedroom, knowing she’d never see it again once she left here. Someone had made the bed—a visiting maid perhaps? She hadn’t seen evidence of hired help, but Tristan was bound to have a cleaning service for this big house.She only needed to get through this one last evening, and she’d be back in the safety of her apartment in Boston.
When she entered the great room, Tristan stood in front of the fireplace, peering into the flames, his profile somber. He looked tall and confident in a black tuxedo, which was probably tailor-made to fit. He had tucked one hand into his pocket, the other clenched by his side.
Lillian shivered, and the movement must have alerted him to her presence because he turned to look.
Energy rushed between them, sending tiny tremors of excitement through her. If only this were a real date and not a forced outing for some murky reason of Tristan’s. If only she were just a girl who was free to fall in love. If only…
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, scattering her thoughts to the four winds.
She blushed and fingered her dress like a child of thirteen and not a grown women of twenty-seven who knew better.
“So do you.”
His eyes glittered, and it was in that moment she understood the concept of “playing with fire.” She flirted with him at her own peril. He moved toward Lillian, stopping only when he stood directly in front of her, blotting out the light from the fire and looking every inch the billionaire computer genius.
“Zoey, look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel this chemistry between us.”
She wet lips dry as a desert and blinked to avoid his hot gaze, which blazed into hers.
“I…” she faltered, and a silence fraught with tension stretched between them.
He moved, crushing her to him and devouring her lips, his large hands framing her face.
Run, Lillian, run. Run fast. Run far.
