She was on her third glass of champagne when an excited, almost incoherent babble swept through the banquet hall, like a quiet drone of buzzing bees. Alexander and she turned at the same time. He stiffened in his chair, tension radiating from every inch of him, his skin a stark mask over the sharp angles of his face.
Olivia would have recognized the pair anywhere, even if they weren’t Hollywood stars. Nicholas King and Isabella Fiori. The first thing that stuck her was how much he looked like them. He truly had the best of both the worlds. The second thing was that neither of them was as shocked to see him as he was to see them.
Alexander pushed his chair back and stood up, leveling a furious gaze at Henry, who fell back against the gilded chair.
“I owe her a favor, Alexander. Just hear her out.”
Alexander shook his head, his features set in stone. “You’ve just lost the chance to save your business.”
His words were coated with a dark fury that drew a line down Olivia’s spine.
“Alexander?” she whispered as he tugged her up.
He didn’t respond. Just stared at the approaching couple, his eyes cold and hard. Squashing the questions pounding inside her head, Olivia returned the pressure on his fingers, hoping to get through to him, to break the bubble of emotion that held him immobile in its hold. But he didn’t move, not even a flicker of eyelid.
The silence in the hall prickled along her skin. She swallowed as she looked around. Every gaze in the banquet hall was focused on them with greedy curiosity stamped across their faces, an indecent hunger as though they couldn’t wait to see a crack in the man they all envied, to see him bleeding.
She bit her lip. He loathed losing control, yet he seemed oblivious to anything around him. Her mind made up, she stood in front of him and cupped his jaw. He still didn’t look at her. Pulling some air into her lungs seemed hard work, her heart revving up faster and harder at what she was going to do. She swept her hands into his hair and pulled his head down. The tangy scent of him pervaded her as she arched closer and pressed her lips to his.
She only meant to snag his attention for a minute, to distract him from whatever it was that choked him in its grip.
Instead, his hands crept up her back, circled her nape, pulled her into his hard body with a force that knocked the breath out of her. Her breasts crushed against the wall of his chest, the juncture of her thighs cradled by his, every line of muscle in his body pressed against her shaking ones. Her shocked gasp misted into nothing as he made a rough sound in his throat, and crushed her mouth with his.
Warm and soft, his lips flushed against her lower lip. He tasted like whiskey, like pure, torturous heaven. He pressed his advantage, his tongue invading her mouth, erotic as it dueled with her own, and the intoxicating taste of him exploded inside her mouth. Heat, unlike anything she’d ever known, slithered low and furious in her belly, curling into pinpricks of pleasure all over.
She had wondered about this moment since the minute she had laid eyes on him. Yet reality was nothing like she had imagined. There was no seduction, nothing civilized, nothing controlled about what he did to her. He prodded and plundered her mouth, drew her tongue into his mouth, his actions almost savage, as if he needed her taste to sustain himself. A moan escaped her as he nipped her lower lip, his harsh breathing puncturing the sexual cloud fogging her senses. She tilted her head away from him to pull some air, and his mouth trailed over her jaw toward her neck. It was so tempting to stay like that, to take whatever he gave, to let herself go.
But she couldn’t ignore the little voice that said he really didn’t want to kiss her. She couldn’t forget she was a stand-in and for her sister, of all people. The passing mention of Kim was enough to electrocute her drugged senses back into reality.
She cupped his jaw, the pads of her thumbs tracing the grooves around his mouth. “Alexander? Get a grip, or I swear I—”
He cupped her face and tilted it up in a rough movement, his gaze blazing. As if he didn’t want to stop. After only a few seconds that felt like another eternity, he nodded and pulled her to his side. Just as his parents reached them. She could feel their gazes upon them. She ran a hand over her trembling lips as she turned around.
“Hello, Alexander.” Isabella drawled his name, her accent thick. Liv searched her voice for a trace of affection. The very lack of emotion sent alarm bells ringing through Olivia. “It is good to see you.”
Alexander didn’t move or bend his head even though it was clear that his mother wanted to kiss his cheek. Nicholas King didn’t utter a word, either. Only stood at his wife’s side, his blue eyes, hard and flinty.