Page 17 of Double Apex

As I click my phone dark and drop it in the seat pocket, I hear a chuckle.

Fuck.

He was reading the text exchange over my shoulder. My face goes five-alarm hot.

And there’s his familiar smirk.

“It’s okay, draga,” he says, his voice smooth and dark. “When you lose those earrings, I’ll buy you a new pair.” He leans back and closes his eyes. “And a matching necklace. You’d look lovely in pearls.”

6

SANTORINI

COSMIN

When Klaus told me about the planned trip to Santorini, outwardly I was all scorn, but inside, I was jumping like a kid at a funfair.

I excel at hiding my emotions, though Phaedra sees me as a heart-on-my-sleeve extrovert. Everyone does, aside from Viorica, who understands all too well how we had to perfect the skill of constructing a seamless costume, growing up with Uncle Andrei. I’d have chosen one better fitting, given a choice, but life necessitated the one I wear—like a magician’s cloak, made for misdirection.

We step off the plane, and I clothe myself in the carefree façade. When I insist on carrying her bag, Phaedra is annoyed and attempts to snatch it back. I swing my duffel bag over a shoulder and switch the handle of her rolling suitcase to myother side. With my free hand I tap her nose with my forefinger, as if she’s a sulky child to be cheered.

“Let me be a gentleman.” I head for the building, and Phaedra strides to catch up.

“Yeah, so, suggestion? Don’tboopmy nose again, ever. You won’t be able to shift as well, driving with half a finger.”

She has on a pale blue tunic that compliments the red glints in her hair. The neck is untied, strings flipping in the breeze. From this angle I spy her freckled chest and one smooth collarbone. She catches me looking and ties the strings. I open the door for her grandly, and she pauses, scowling, before walking through.

“Let’s please keep a low profile and avoid any press, like Klaus said,” she tells me. “I know it doesn’t come naturally to you. But seriously, none of your usual swanning about like you’re the second coming of Sex Jesus. Try being somebody else.”

“The point of this trip is for us to get to know each other.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ve already seen everything a person needs to know about you.”

A rattle of pain vibrates in my chest like clipping the rumble strip on track. On its heels, anger.Fine—I will remain a caricature. I was a fool to think this might ever be more.

Still, I want her.

I’ve wanted Phaedra Morgan for months. Her volatile nature inflames me, her intellect captivates me, and her seeming imperviousness to my charm is an irresistible challenge. I cannot resist pushing her buttons, trying to spy the cracks inherfaçade. She wears a mask as much as I do, for her own reasons. I suspect we are more alike than she thinks—connected, yet invisible to each other, like the hot and cold sides of Venus.

If she’s close enough for me to smell her skin and hair, my lust is ungovernable. And not in my usual easygoing, hedonistic way. Instead, it is an agony-colored, thwarted lust the likes of which I’ve not felt since I was fourteen—a boy wanting every woman but allowed none.

Now I can have every woman, but want only one.

I crave those plump lips sliding against mine. I long to pick her up and plant myself deep, holding that round ass and pulling her against me. I’m greedy to hear the sounds she’d make. Her voice snaps me to attention like a dog.

Sometimes she’ll emit a small moan—out of frustration, or on the tail of rare laughter—and I imagine the sound is a result of something I’m doing… a vocalization escaping her iron control as my tongue teases her.

I push the thought away, lifting her suitcase to clasp it in front of me, trying to make the move look natural while I order my cock to stand down.

A tall, unsmiling woman with salt-and-pepper hair approaches us.

“I am Elena. I have your car.” She turns and walks toward the parking lot. Phaedra and I exchange a look.

“She’s apparently a great cook,” she tells me in a loud whisper.

“Hopefully more of a cook than a conversationalist.”

Mutual conspiratory smiles thaw the air between us, andmy heart lifts. Elena marches toward a blue Alfa Romeo Spider.

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