Page 57 of Vienna Betrayal

The second and third floors had beautiful drawing rooms, parlors, libraries, and even a small ballroom. There were also bedroom suites on those floors, ornate rooms filled with antiques, most often used by visiting dignitaries or business people who needed to be impressed, flattered, or both.

The fourth floor had been stripped of any of its original architectural details when it was rented to a garment company and used as a factory. Given that there was no remnant of the original architectural details, this floor had been renovated into seven bedroom suites, a dining room, and a commercial kitchen capable of preparing food for several hundred if he hosted a party.

Tonight they wouldn’t be eating in the fourth floor dining room—though that’s where they’d had breakfast this morning, a quiet affair punctuated by yawns as they began to feel the effects of a night without sleep.

The door down the hall opened, and Alena stepped out.

Alexander straightened, awed anew by not just how lovely she was, but her innate magnetism.

She wore black. A simple black dress that might have been unremarkable if it was on anyone but her. Her hair was loose around her shoulders in soft, dark waves, though it was pulled back on one side in a style reminiscent of old Hollywood.

A blood-red pashmina was hooked over her arms, and matched the red heels she wore.

She glanced at him, and her lips curled up. Her smile was full of secrets, but warm rather than cutting and cold.

He wanted to strip the dress off of her, bare every inch of her flesh so he could torment her, tease her. He wanted to bring her to her knees, even as he wanted to kneel before her.

The captured queen.

She exuded august confidence as she walked down the hall, each footstep making her hips sway.

The queen. She wasn’t captured.

Not yet.

“Alexander.”

“Alena.” He held out his arm. “Will you join me?”

“Of course.”

When he turned her towards the stairs instead of leading her to the dining room, she glanced at him in surprise.

“Skipping dinner, and going right for dessert?”

“No. But I wanted us to dine in private.”

Together they mounted the steps, Alena walking rather gingerly.

“You mentioned that you prefer not to wear high heels.” Alexander said when they paused on the landing.

“Sugar, I know you aren’t suggesting I would wear flats with this dress.”

“But if the shoes hurt you…”

“Beauty is pain.”

Alexander chuckled, as much at her exaggerated tone as the words themselves.

When they reached the top of the stairs, he keyed in a code on the discreetly hidden panel, then opened one side of the grand double doors that protected his home.

He gestured for her to proceed him, watching her butt, which was nicely cupped by the fabric, but not so tight as to be lewd or cheap.

“Oh,” Alena said in surprise. “This is your home.”

“The whole building is my home.” He stepped in and closed the door.

“You might own the whole building, but I got a tour of the first, second, and third floors after I woke up from my mid-day nap, and the rest of the building is a showplace. A museum. This, this is you.”

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