Chapter One #3
And yet, she had been invited to come for an early evening appointment. She had been so relieved about getting it over with that she hadn’t given any thought to why he had agreed so readily.
“Should I have them put you in a taxi back to your hotel?” His intense scrutiny, more than his question, jerked her out of her head. “Maybe you’re still jet-lagged.”
Shaking her head, Aliyah forced her legs to move. She kept her gaze fixed on the center of his chest as she passed him. A whiff of his scent—ocean and pine—made her head dizzy, and yet lured her in.
God, everything about him felt both familiar and new and…dangerous.
But she didn’t do dangerous. Not then. Not now.
His office was vast enough to relieve the tightness in her chest. Confrontation had never been her forte and while his words had been polite enough, something about his tone was getting under her skin.
Breathing slowly, she took in her surroundings.
Clean lines, warm light and expensive materials softened the space.
Deep navy walls, oak paneling, a subtle Persian rug underfoot and muted art that looked like it had been chosen to soothe.
The office felt like the kind of space where one could relax.
Which was by design, she was sure. Constantine wanted his unsuspecting victims to feel safe before he pounced.
The temperature inside wasn’t high, but Aliyah felt overheated. She slipped off her cardigan, folded it over one arm and ran a hand over the front of her peach silk blouse. The gesture screamed nervous, but she couldn’t help it.
Constantine gestured toward a plush seating area near the wide windows. “What can I get you?”
“Water,” she said. It gave her something to say. Something to hold.
She watched him move, broader than she remembered, bigger. His dark curls were cropped shorter now, neat and controlled, but even noting that felt like stepping a toe into the danger zone. There was no ignoring how he ruled the space around him, dominating it without effort.
When he handed her the bottle of water, she made sure their fingers didn’t touch. And betrayed her taut nerves by the very action.
Mouth twitching, Constantine settled back into the chair opposite her. “Now, tell me, Aliyah. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit after all these years?”
The words were smooth, practiced and yet pulsed with something unsaid. As if the pleasure he claimed was real but for reasons she didn’t understand.
“This place looks good on you,” she said calmly. “Congratulations on achieving your goal.”
“And what goal would that be?”
“To be the lord and master of all this,” she said, gesturing around her. “To be the CEO of Andros International, ne?”
His laughter was low, amused, cutting through her composure as if it was made of flimsy ribbons. “You surprise me, Aliyah,” he said cryptically.
“What is there to be surprised about?” She made a show of tilting her head around to get the full view of the city and his office, finally returning her gaze to his.
Every moment of eye contact went through her like an electric jolt, scattering her senses, doing untold damage to her defenses. Somehow, she managed to keep her tone steady. “I know better than anyone how hard you’ve worked to get here. And all the sacrifices you made along the way.”
He sat back in his chair and watched her, eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to figure her out. As if he couldn’t believe that she could truly wish him well.
I do wish him well, Aliyah reassured herself. Because to be angry with him, to be hurt over his choice after all these years would mean he had power over her, and that she refused to give away to anyone ever again.
She forced herself not to fidget under his probing gaze as he studied her.
“You look different, sound different, from what I was expecting.”
“Of course I’m different, Constantine.” Relief sputtered through her words in the form of laughter. “I’m more than a decade older. Less naive, less foolish.”
“I never thought you foolish,” he muttered, almost to himself.
There was a note in his voice—something threaded between challenge and curiosity. Longing maybe, for a second. She dismissed the thought immediately.
It was beyond foolishness to think of him, to perceive him, as the old Constantine.
That kind, young man she had fallen in love with, the one who had held her through grief, who had given her a taste of love, the one whose promises she’d fallen for, had been nothing but a mirage.
A mirage she’d created out of desperation, for his thirst for wealth and power had been his only driving force.
“Back then, I never realized you were a spoiled little princess either,” he said in a tone definitely above a murmur now. “A silly, scared young woman who only craved wealth and protection. So, what the hell do I know?”
Aliyah stared at the sinful curve of his mouth as each word out of it pelted at her skin with a sharp, cutting edge. Indignation and her own sense of betrayal flared up together, vying for control and beneath them, a sense of utter shock.
The slow realization dawned on her that he was angry with her. Even resented her.
For whatever reason, this man—who had thrown her over for her father’s wealth without a moment’s notice—was angry with her. If it wasn’t tragically confusing, she would have laughed at the whole thing.
And it was an anger that had simmered and sparked for more than a decade and punctuated his every word and look and filled the air around them, trapping her in it like some magnetic field. It pressed against her skin like a live flame from the moment she had walked in.
A cold flush began at her core, urging her legs to move, to run, to never look back.
She bit the inside of her cheek to cut through the fearful impulse. The need to spite him, to prove him wrong, worked in her favor more than anything else. Plus, Rose was counting on her and she refused to let her down.
With a deep breath, she swallowed up all the questions that danced on her tongue, all the furious demands she wanted to make of him to explain himself. All the anger and hurt that could spew forth if only she let it.
“I’d rather not waste time bandying words with you when it’s clear that you can’t stand the sight of me,” she said, nerves vibrating like the tightly strung wire in a piano.
“How perceptive of you,” he said, brow rising. But the smooth gesture was belied by the slight flare of his pupils and the contained but wild energy in his limbs.
Was he surprised that she wasn’t engaging him in a fight over their past? Or was it that he expected tears and remorse for whatever sin she had committed against him?
Her throat felt awfully prickly, and she pushed to her feet, more agitated by the thought of tears in front of him than by his presence.
Not that looking down at him gave her any sense of control over the situation.
Still, she got the words out. “I’ve no idea how but you clearly know why I’m here,” she said.
Moments passed like molasses as she waited for him to clarify.
Contrary, infuriating man that he was, he simply stared at her.
“I need help with gaining custody of my stepdaughter. Her uncle is a greedy, corrupt man who wants to control her fortune by taking custody of her.” She looked at her tightly laced fingers and forced herself to loosen the grip. “Rose is important to me and I—”
“Why would you assume that I would be interested in helping you?” he interrupted her smoothly, the polite facade cracking just a bit.
The grin he flashed at her might have been that of a predator baring its pointy teeth at her.
“For old times’ sake? Or do you think the world will rearrange itself to get you out of a tight spot? ”
“Not at all,” she said, the fracture in his composure somehow bolstering her own. “I’m more than willing to do whatever you want.”
Some dangerous, heretofore nonexistent streak of self-destruction sparked in her belly, urging her on. Or was it the need to dent, or at least scratch, his infuriating mask of righteous superiority?
“See, even spoiled, scared, silly me knows that you, and your services, can be bought for a price, Constantine. So, please, just name it.”
Aliyah regretted the words the moment she tasted them on her tongue. It was like poking a grumpy bear with a stick.
Her belly sloshed as he shot to his feet in one silky smooth movement, the predator readying itself to pounce, his gray eyes blazing with a strange, addictive combination of victory and humor.
A shiver went down her spine as she realized, somehow, that she had played right into his hands.