Page 37
“You don’t have to be jealous, Michail.”
“But I do. I always protect what’s mine.”
I mean every word. It’s not just the baby. Not anymore, although I’m coming to suspect it never was just about our son to begin with. Alessandra has been a part of me since that night. I still have a long way to go in convincing her to stay after our year is up. But we’re headed in the right direction. She’s mine, whether she’s ready to accept it or not.
Something flickers in her eyes. Before I can pursue it, a man appears in front of us. Tall, lean, his skin tanned a deep bronze and his silver hair combed back from a broad forehead, he looks every inch the wealthy lawyer.
“Mr. Sullivan.”
“Mr. Lykios.”
He inclines his head. “Thank you for altering your plans at the last minute. I apologize for the sudden change in my schedule.” He turns to Alessandra and bows his head. “Mrs. Sullivan, I presume.”
“Yes.” Her smile is gracious. “Thank you for finding a way to meet with us. As you can imagine, the paintings are very important to my husband.”
I jolt. It’s the first time I’ve heard Alessandra refer to me as her husband.
“Yes.” Lykios cocks his head to one side. “Formerly Alessandra Wright?”
Her arm tenses against mine. “Yes.”
Before Lykios can say anything else, a woman in a black dress swoops up. Her tiny body fairly vibrates with energy.
“Alexander, you must come. Frederick Woodowitz is about to leave and you haven’t finalized the terms of the new contract.”
Lykios gives us a long-suffering look as he allows himself to be led away by the woman I can only assume is his wife.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll return momentarily.”
I turn to Alessandra as he departs. Her cheeks are pale, her lips tense. I place the hand on her lower back and pull her closer.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She shakes her head. “No. This is what I was afraid of. Of people judging me, making insinuations.”
Her gaze darts around the terrace.
“Why does it matter what they think?”
Her breath comes out in a rush. “It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t matter at all.”
The orchestra strikes up another tune.
“Dance with me.”
She stares at me like I grew a second head. “What?”
“Dance with me.” I grab her hand in mine and tug her toward the dance floor. “Unless you can’t?”
My words tease a small smile from her.
“All right.”
I lead her onto the floor and spin her out in a dramatic fashion that has the chiffon flaring out around her legs. Her smile grows as I pull her close and wrap one arm around her waist.
“I never pictured you as the dancing type.”
“Given that Gavriil thinks I was raised in the woods by wolves, I can understand why.”
