Page 23 of Bloody Lace

Evelyn glances over at me, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Are you suggesting we should practice in private, before the next event like this?”

The sarcasm in her tone is evident, but my body reacts all the same, a jolt of desire sweeping down my spine and thickening my cock. “Are you offering?” I retort, and I see her lips thin.

“No,” she says shortly, and I chuckle. I shouldn’t like getting under her skin, but I can’t help it. There’s something about the way she sparks to life when I irritate her that’s intoxicating, like a drug I know I shouldn’t take another hit of but just can’t quit.

I want to needle her again, but I force myself to stop. “Let’s get another drink,” I suggest instead, and Evelyn nods, a look of relief washing across her face.

“I could use one,” she admits, and I lead her to the bar that’s been set up on one side of the venue. “Something stronger than wine,” she adds with a small laugh.

“I can manage that. Vodka with lime for me, and a gin and tonic for my fiance?—”

“Your fiance?” A gruff voice from behind us interrupts, and I turn to see Colin Davis, a man who I know well from our business dealings. He runs a fine art business that we often use as a means to cover up other money that changes hands, and he’s always been easy to work with. He knows the benefits of staying on our good side. But he also knows Mr. Armand, Nicci’s father, and I wince inwardly. This will be the first evidence of how easily—or not—this change in circumstances will go over in the greater social sphere I move through.

And whether or not it will affect our business as badly as my father thinks it will.

To my surprise, Evelyn speaks up before I can. “Evelyn Ashburn,” she says smoothly, holding out a hand to shake Colin’s. “I know this all seems a bit sudden. Trust me, I’ve had my reservations, too. When a man like Dimitri catches you off guard, a girl has to wonder if some things are just too good to be true.’

“Hm.” Colin grunts. “Last I knew, he was seeing my friend Jean’s daughter. Nicci. This is—quite a surprise. Weren’t you out at a party with her just last week? We all thought there would be a formal engagement over the holidays.”

“Nicci and I were seeing each other, yes.” My voice is stiff, irritated, and I try to mellow it. I don’t enjoy these events all that much, and the third degree that I’m likely to get at first makes it much less palatable. “There was nothing confirmed, however. And when I met Evelyn?—”

“Yes, howdidthe two of you meet?” Colin’s gaze swings back to Evelyn, a look in his eyes that sends a hot flare of jealousythrough me. He doesn’t seem to want to take his eyes off of her for long—but then again, I can hardly blame him. I don’t want to, either.

Shit.We didn’t come up with a firm backstory for what we would tell others, and it occurs to me in that moment that we should have. I was too concerned with other facets of our deal—the ring, the contract, sending out men to look into what’s happening with the Crows, arranging to make sure Evelyn is taken care of. It slipped my mind entirely that these are the questions others would ask, and my stomach tightens, dread slipping through my veins.

And then, to my surprise, Evelyn speaks up again, as smoothly as if we rehearsed this a dozen times.

“It was at the Met,” she says with a smile, and my stomach dips again. If she tells the truth—that we met a year ago at a party, the rumors will start to circulate that I’ve been seeing her behind Nicci’s back all of this time. Theexactopposite of what I need.

I open my mouth to interrupt, but Evelyn is still talking—and it’s not what I feared.

“A close friend of mine is a curator there,” she says brightly. “So I go there just to wander through fairly often. Sometimes before or after we grab lunch. And Dimitri happened to be there that day, walking through—which exhibit was it?” She turns towards me, and I blink, momentarily astonished at how quickly she’s pieced together a story for us.

“The—exhibit on Japanese calligraphy, I think?” I have no idea if that’s even an exhibit at the Met, but I think I recall seeing something about it. A sign that I passed by one day, maybe.

Evelyn snaps her fingers, nodding. “That’s right. We started talking about it, and just didn’t stop. Got a drink at the cafe, and before we knew it, a few hours had passed. It was just—one of those moments.” She turns, looking at me with such suddenadoration that I feel as if the air is momentarily sucked out of my lungs.

I’ve never had anyone look at me like that before. It’s not real—it’s a masterful performance on her part, but the effect of it, of Evelyn looking at me as if I’ve hung the moon and stars for her, feels like a punch.

That adoration shifts slightly, a hint of expectation in her face, and I know that’s my cue. I’m expected to keep up my half of this verbal ping-pong, but I’m so caught off guard by her that it’s difficult for me to keep up.

“She says I swept her off her feet, but really, it’s the other way around,” I manage with a smile, reaching down to take Evelyn’s hand. Her fingers thread through mine without hesitation this time, the warmth of her palm against mine sending a shock through me at that simple touch. “Sometimes it’s just a matter of knowing when you meet the right one.”

Colin’s eyebrows rise. “I would have expected you to pick a wife for more practical reasons, Dimitri,” he says wryly. “Nicci made sense. But I’m happy for you, if this is what you want. Wouldn’t have wanted to be in the room when you broke the news to your father, though.” He chuckles, shaking his head as he walks away, and I see Evelyn’s shoulders drop as she lets out a breath.

“Well, one down,” she says with a small laugh, as I turn to get our drinks from the bartender.

“That was impressive.” I hand her the gin and tonic, looking at her with a new appreciation. She’s caught me off guard more than I would have expected in such a brief time, and that was yet another example of how clear it is that I can’t be sure of what to expect with her. “I didn’t think of coming up with a story of how we met. You were remarkably smooth with it.”

“You get used to thinking on your feet in customer service.” Evelyn laughs, taking a sip of her drink. “Should we go dance?Just so everyone can see that whatever Mr. Davis is saying now, it’s actually true.”

She’s right, although I feel a sharp twinge of apprehension at the thought of being so close to her. My self-control feels fragile right now, desire humming through my veins just from being near Evelyn. I can’t remember the last time I was this easily aroused—maybe never. I’m not sure anyone has made me feel this kind of desire in my entire life.

We find our table, setting our drinks down, and I lead Evelyn out to the dance floor. It brings back the memories of our first dance at the Met all too quickly, and my chest tightens as she moves close to me, the orange spiced scent of her perfume filling my senses. My fingers brush against her spine, soft silk against my rougher fingertips, and my pulse hammers in my ears.

God, I want her. We haven’t so much as kissed, and the need for her feels like an inferno in my blood. Her body is nearly brushing mine, her eyes drifting off somewhere over my shoulder, and her lack of attention on me gives me a moment to simply soak her in. Her scent, the shape of her body, the curve of her waist as I slide my hand around it—she’s utter perfection, and she’s the only woman who has ever been off-limits to me.

I know that’s likely part of the appeal. But in this moment, it doesn’t matterwhy.

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