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Her respectful escort’s politely blank expression didn’t change when she lost her focus for a moment and got too adventurous stride-wise and almost slipped off her borrowed crazy heels and lurched like a drunken ice-skater on the marble floor.

She admired his professionalism as her guide became selectively deaf when she muttered a string of crude curses, amplified by the acoustics, bouncing off the high ceiling before finally fading away.

They were not shoes, they were implements of torture…and Emily thought they were cute? My sister is warped she decided, trying to retrieve a little dignity.

‘It’s very hard to maintain your centre of gravity in five-inch heels, not that you’d know, obviously…’ Stop talking, Elsie.

She swallowed an inappropriate nervous giggle and lifted her chin another notch as she moderated her stride to something less confident, which allowed her to think about how to breathe because she knew that if she started hyperventilating a paper bag was not a good look and requiring one was a real possibility. Unlike the image in her head of her pounding heart crashing through her ribcage, making a mess on the marble and ruining her dress.

She turned the laugh into a cough. The level of adrenaline in her bloodstream was making its presence known with a background buzz in her ears that made the fear of falling off her heels again fade into the background.

She had never fainted in her life and now was not the moment to start.

There were too many other fears to safely negotiate and this was the first time she’d acknowledged them. Previously, she had been working hard to convince her guilty twin that she was fine by wildly underplaying the entire situation.

No more underplaying!

The ornately carved double doors swung open as she approached, and she literally forgot how to breathe. She was barely conscious of the people who had opened them fading away like smoke; she was only aware of the figure who was sitting elegantly slumped in a gilded chair at the head of a very long table.

She vaguely registered the elaborate setting of the two places at the top of the table—pity, she’d have felt a lot more comfortable at the foot of the table with twenty-five feet of crisp white linen between them, maybe a very large, strategically placed flower arrangement or five.

The dark-haired figure slowly unfolded himself with effortless loose-limbed grace from the chair; if it was possible for a person to flow, he did.

She’d convinced herself that the lack of clothing and all the flesh and muscle on display accounted for the hormonal knockout hit that he had delivered on their last meeting.

The self-delusion died with the first shocking punch of desire that immobilised her. The man responsible was fully clothed, his dark formal suit and snowy white shirt open at the neck revealing a section of golden skin.

I hardly recognise you with your clothes on.

Her self-protective instincts kicked in finally and she brought her lashes down in a defensive mesh.

The noise of the chair being pulled out for her shook her from her trance.

Leandro tipped his head and the man behind the chair melted away, to be replaced by her host. She felt his warm breath on her neck as he pulled out the chair, turning his body to face her, one hand still on the carved back of the chair. Five-inch heels and nine inches over five feet, she still had to tilt her head back to make eye contact.

His eyes were not smiling, his mouth was…and his eyes…

Oh, you were meant to be stupid, she wailed internally and tried to still a surge of panic. Maybe she ought to be panicking because what she could see in his eyes was not stupidity.

‘Emily.’ His smile deepened.

Her insides quivered and her pulse went frantic. Elsie made herself think of him practising the smile in front of a mirror. Shame curled in her stomach along with the heat. He was so fake, she decided scornfully. Unfortunately, being aware of it didn’t stop her body from reacting in a shameful way to his practised seduction routine.

‘Good evening…’

He arched a brow, mockery gleaming in his eyes.

‘Leandro,’ he prompted helpfully as he pulled the chair out a little further and leaned in. His warm breath brushing her cheek felt crazily intimate.

Elsie told herself that not obediently parroting his name was a small but significant act of rebellion.

And it’s got nothing to do with the fact that your voice is paralysed with lust, the annoying voice in her head mocked.

‘You look very beautiful tonight.’

She slid him a sideways look, the eye-roll implied, and his appreciative grin flashed amused comprehension. She felt her mood nosedive even further; the intelligence she had seen was not an illusion.

‘Your eyes really are extraordinary…so expressive.’