Page 61 of Vienna Bargain

“I thought this wasn’t a game.”

She raised one hand and touched his cheek. “It’s not. But I was trying, so hard, to pretend it was. That’s how I deal with life. It’s all just a game. I played Senator Moreau and the prize was money and financing for college. Before that, surviving on my own, the game was about matching things up. If I do X, then Y will happen, and I win. Even if what I was trying to win was food, a place to stay.”

Alexander reached over the side of the chair and set down both glasses so he’d have his hands free to touch her. He stroked her cheek. “I hurt for little Alena.”

“I treated you like a game.” She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. “Finding out where you went on those weekends, getting into the Orchid Club, making you notice me. Scene with me. Take me home with you. It was all a game.”

The anger came back, but it was a slow simmering thing, much less important than the tenderness he felt as he kept stroking her cheek.

“The prize was information. Your company’s information.”

“Corporate espionage,” he said softly. “I know you work for someone. Someone who is looking for you.”

“Someone is looking for me?” Alena worried her lip with her teeth. “That might change things.”

“You think they’ll suspect you of breaking the contract to sell the information about their attempt?” He was thinking fast now. If he’d hired her to spy on one of his competitors—not that he would do that—and she suddenly disappeared… He would assume a double cross. “Who are you working for? GBI? I can protect you from them.” He could protect her from anyone, except maybe the intelligence community, so the fact that she wasn’t employed by a government made him confident that what he’d just said was true.

Alena leaned back to wag her finger in his face. “Ah, ah, suga’. You’re jumping ahead. You should ask what I did end up studying in college since it wasn’t pre-law or Arabic.”

“What did you study in college?” He smiled, he couldn’t help it.

“Art history.”

Alexander blinked.

Alena grinned. “I love art. I studied art history and art conservation. I interned at the Smithsonian.”

“Er…were you actually in Vienna to steal some of my art pieces and couldn’t get them off the wall?”

“No. Though I considered art theft as a career. I’d make an excellent cat burglar, don’t you think?”

Alexander had thought, only moments ago, he knew where this story was going. Now he was utterly confused.

“That is such a cute face,” she said with a smile.

“I’m not making a face.”

“You are. It’s your ‘befuddled billionaire’ face.”

“You are a cat burglar?”

“No, I’m not. My job sometimes requires me to resort to some…questionable methods. But I’m the opposite of an art thief.”

Alexander stared at her. Alena was grinning a wide, happy smile. No Mona Lisa secret amusement. This was a grin of anticipation, as if she were about to deliver the punchline of some joke.

“Alena,” he said slowly. “What do you do for a living?”

Alena straightened and stuck out her hand for him to shake. Alexander curled his fingers around hers.

“Alena Moreau,” she said. “Insurance investigator.”

Chapter 12

Alena was still snickering to herself as several of the servants bustled around the patio in preparation for their al fresco dinner. Alexander was seated across from her, but he was bent over, elbows braced on his knees, head in his hands.

The woman playing bartender and pouring the wine—the younger one who clearly watched Instagram makeup tutorials—cast Alena a quick glance. Alena raised her brow, giving the woman her best arch look.

Several hours had passed since she’d told Alexander what she did for a living. He’d gone quiet, either in disbelief or confusion. She wasn’t sure which, but she’d taken advantage of it, suggesting he have someone take her bag to a bedroom—preferably one in this wing though she had plans to demand a tour of all her other options later. Silently, Alexander had gone to his desk, opened a drawer and pulled out a slim hardline phone. He’d spoken to the person on the other end of the line and then escorted her out of his office. She’d glanced around the gallery as they went through it, considered making him stop there so she could explain, but, quite frankly, she’d been enjoying his confusion far too much.

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