Page 60 of Vienna Bargain

Alexander took a sip of wine and watched her. She looked tired, and was perhaps the most relaxed he’d ever seen her. Not relaxed—that wasn’t the right word. He studied her as she continued her story, trying to put together the pieces that made up Alena.

“It wasn’t until I went to therapy that I realized while I thought I was playing Senator Moreau, he was undoubtedly playing me. For someone like him, I could be a wonderful asset. My morals were flexible; I did, and could, live outside the social and political spotlight that was on him and his real family.”

“You were not real family?”

“The bastard daughter? Of course not, suga’.”

“A wonderful father.”

“It sounds like yours was a peach too.”

“My father’s criticism of my speaking patterns seems practically benign in comparison to your story.”

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t fuck you up.” Alena arched a brow. “Clearly we both have some issues.”

Alexander nodded even as he fought the urge to go over and sit beside her, let her rest on him rather than on the arm of the couch.

Alena took a sip, then resumed her story.

“Senator Moreau created a scholarship that put me through college. Encouraged me to go to law school. That’s what I realized in therapy; he wanted me to be a lawyer because an attorney who doesn’t take their oaths too seriously is valuable, as is one who has blood loyalty.” She paused. “He assumed that our shared blood made me feel some loyalty, and I simply let him assume.”

They were silent for some time, sipping their wine. She wasn’t relaxed right now, he’d decided. She’d let down her walls. There was no amused regal facade or submission between them. This was Alena as she truly was—tired, half slumped, holding her wine glass in her fist rather than delicately with three fingers.

And he was fairly certain he’d figured out what came next in this story. When she stayed quiet, he cleared his throat.

“When were you recruited to the C.I.A.?”

Alena sat up. “Oh suga’, I’m not C.I.A.”

Alexander’s jaw clenched, because he knew she was lying again.

“I’m not saying I wasn’t recruited. I had a few odd lunch meetings in college with people who strongly suggested I get a minor in Arabic, but no, I didn’t join the C.I.A.”

That had the ring of truth which he found both relaxing…and confusing. She was a spy of some kind. If not government, then corporate espionage.

Alena stood, walking over to him, far less elegantly than he’d ever seen her move before. She handed him her empty wine glass then planted her hands on his thighs and leaned down until their noses were almost touching.

“The man I blackmailed thanks to his affair with my mother wanted me to become his evil lawyer. The C.I.A., who I’m sure knew about me thanks to the Secret Service agents who kept anyone from knowing about my parentage, wanted me to come work for them since people without real families have very little to lose.”

Alexander couldn’t help it. He smiled, because he was very sure of one thing. “You did neither.”

“Exactly.”

“Because you are far too stubborn to do what anyone else wants you to?”

“I don’t know about that…” She leaned in, close enough that it would take very little to turn this moment into a kiss.

A kiss like the one on the desk. The one that had made him feel like everything changed.

“I’ve done the things you’ve wanted me to do,” Alena breathed.

“After you stole from me.” He paused. “You’re not a terrorist, correct?”

“A terrorist?” Alena jerked back.

“Transportation and supply lines are high value terrorism targets. I had to promise my people that if you were a terrorist I wouldn’t let you go after three weeks.”

“No, not a terrorist. Where’s the fun in that game?”

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