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“So the party worked then?” Anya claps her hands. “Were you introduced, or—”
“Enough with the inquisition,” I snap.
This time, Cora is the one to reach out and lay her hand over mine. Electricity buzzes in the space between our skin.
“I don’t mind answering her questions.” Cora gives me a practiced smile and then focuses her attention on my sister. “I think Ivan is trying to protect me.”
Anya frowns. “Protect you from what?”
I have no idea what Cora is about to say. I have half a mind to interrupt her. I don’t know how I’m going to explain to my sister that this entire thing is bullshit, so I sure as fuck don’t want Cora doing it for me.
But I’m also fascinated by the way she is taking control of this situation. I want to see what she does with it.
“Last night didn’t go exactly the way I planned,” Cora admits. “I first met your brother when he saved me from being groped by some drunk man.”
“Stefanos Genakos,” I explain when Anya looks to me for an explanation.
She grimaces. “Oh. Gross. He backed me into more than one corner before I got married. He should be banned from these parties.”
“I would second that. He was not a gentleman. Your brother, however, was. He stepped in and protected me.” Cora reaches over and grabs my hand again. She takes it easily, curling her fingers around mine like we’ve done it a million times before.
Anya stares at our intertwined hands like she might be seeing things. “Well, brother, will Stefanos live to tell the tale?”
“He’ll live to tell the tale of how he got his ass kicked.”
Anya silently cheers as Cora continues. “But before Ivan swooped in, the guy—Stefanos, I guess—ripped my dress.”
Anya gasps. “No! Where?”
“Right up the backside.” Cora drops her face into her hands with the perfect self-deprecating chuckle. “The material was really delicate. By the time your brother found me, the entire dress had shredded apart. I was standing in nothing but my birthday suit trying to fix it somehow.”
“No!” Anya claps both hands over her mouth and looks at me. “What did you do?”
“I gave her my suit jacket.”
“Which I thought was very chivalrous of him—until I showed up today and found out there was an entire closet of your clothes just a few doors down the hall I could have changed into,” Cora says.
Anya lunges across the island and slaps my arm. “All men are creeps! Especially the ones I’m related to.”
“I could have let her leave naked,” I point out. “So I think the suit jacket was a fair compromise.”
“Pig!” Anya accuses even as she has to bite back a laugh.
Cora slips off of her barstool and turns to the coffee pot. While she’s away, Anya silently pulls on my sleeve.She’s amazing, she mouths, jabbing a finger in Cora’s direction.
I wave her away without a response. I won’t dare open my mouth on the topic. There’s no telling what I might accidentally say.
“This coffee pot is like a spaceship.” Cora stands back and bops the side of the stainless steel machine like that might help. “I need a PhD just to get my caffeine fix.”
I move behind her, sliding an arm around her back to flip the switch on the side. My forearm grazes over her hip bone. Her hair tickles my chin. It’s an ordinary kind of contact that feels somehow a billion times more intimate than what we did in the shadows last night.
Cora turns. She’s blushing from head to toe, but she raises her chin with dignity. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” My voice is little more than a rasp.
She blinks and slides past me. “Coffee will be ready in a few minutes. Do you take cream and sugar, Anya?”
“Ungodly amounts of both,” Anya replies.
