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She tried to smile at him. It felt ridiculous, because she was attempting to look how anAlexandramight look. Or a princess.Hersmile was that of a roguish street urchin. Not a sweet or even sophisticated woman. So she wasn’t quite sure how to rearrange her features.
Lysias tutted and shook his head. “Thatis a grimace,” he said, then reached out and touched her. His long fingers stroked up her cheek. “Relax,asteri mou,” he murmured. “Do nottryso hard.”
But she had to try hard. To breathe normally. To stay in this moment rather than be transported somewhere else by the heady drug that was his eyes on hers. Still, her body relaxed as if she had no choice. He waswillingher through his touch, his gaze. The warmth that surrounded them convinced her to lean closer.
His smile in return felt genuine, soft almost, but the idea that Lysias Balaskas might besoftin any way was, of course, a fantasy.
“Better,” he said, then dropped his hand.
She felt like drooping at the loss, but the car was pulling to a stop, and now she had to...pretend. Because that may have been pretend for him, but her reactions were not in any way an act.
They were real, and they were such a novelty, no matter how her brain warned her to be careful. Her brain insisted this might lead down a dangerous path, but the heady freedom of stepping out of the limo as awoman, as Lysias Balaskas’sfiancée, seemed to eradicate the sensible voice in her head that had kept her alive for so long.
Inside the glittering soiree, Al did as she was told. Spoke little, kept to his side. It was easy to feign obedience because she was so far out of her depth in the glitz and glamour. Clutching to his side like a child to a mother felt safer than brazening it out alone.
She saw men she’d uncovered terrible things about. She saw their wives still at their sides. It took some of the buzz of Lysias’s closeness off.
How did these men still have their wealth, their power, their lives even after everything she’d brought to light about them?
She watched some of these men. Wondering if they’d look in her eyes and know who she was. When she saw no flickers of recognition, even as their gazes raked hungrily over her body, she wondered if it was the conceit that someone like her would never be in their hallowed halls of wealth and opulence. Or was it that she lookedthatdifferent?
“Where are you, Alexandra?” Lysias murmured in her ear, that dangerous purr like a live wire through her system.
“Some of these men,” she said, being careful not to point, to hold any of their lascivious glances. “I’ve exposed terrible things about them, but they are still...here. Not locked up. Not ostracized.”
“Yes, power and influence can often make even your misdeeds someone else’s problem,” he said, as if it didn’t bother him at all. But when she looked up at him, his gaze was fierce. “If you give me a list of names, I will ruin them all. Without a thought.”
“Why?”
Lysias lifted a shoulder. “Why not?”
She supposed many of them were his adversaries in business. But... “What if you are friends with some of them?”
Lysias laughed. “Friends? None of these men are my friends. I do not have friends.”
“Why not?” She could not have friends because she could not risk her secret, but it baffled her that a man of his power and influence would be similarly alone.
“Friends only ever end in betrayal, Alexandra. Best you know that now. Come, there’s someone photographing the crowd of dancers. Let’s join them so we will be splashed across websites and papers come morning.”
He had that look on his face, much like when he spoke of his all-important revenge. Determination and the excitement of the hunt. He had a fierce one-track mind.
He’d experienced betrayal. Now wanted revengethisbadly all these years later. He had been hurt as a young boy, no doubt, but Al wondered why twenty years hadn’t dulled any of those old feelings.
Of course, she’d never had anyone to be betrayed by. These feelings were as foreign to her as protection or care.
Lysias pulled her into the soft, slow dance. She was dazzled by all the fabrics, the way they swished together. The way every woman glittered beautifully. It was such a strange world, and she was intrigued.
Lysias held her close, the hot, hard wall of him expertly moving her to the beat of the song. She’d had a few lessons, but not enough to do anything other than follow his lead.
He leaned his head down, his mouth grazing her ear. She knew this was all an act. He was hoping to be photographed. And yet, her body did not carewhy. Only that he was close. Only that one large hand was on the small of her back, that she could feel his breath on her skin.
“I will let it slip to someone at the very end of the night that your real name is Zandra Agonas,” he whispered. “Someone who will immediately tell the press. Then they’ll work themselves into a frenzy trying to get to the bottom of it. Some of them will likely arrive in Kalyva before even we do.”
He smiled down at her—though it seemed wrong to call that curve of his mouth a smile. It was self-satisfied from a revenge well plotted. Hardly joy.
But it had that warm lick of desire twisting itself deep inside of her. So many women’s eyes had followed him around the room tonight. She’d seen hands trail down his arms, lips lean in close to whisper.
Lysias had smiled at all these women, flirted with many, but he had always made it quite clearshewas the object of his fascination this evening.
