Alex thrust Elaina away once they reached the privacy of his office. Any other woman might have stumbled in those heels, but not her. No, as he somehow knew she would, she easily kept her balance, despite the uneven edge of the area rug over the hardwood floor. Then she swiveled toward him, slow and deliberate, as though flaunting the evidence of her crime.
His security guards stopped mid-stride and gave him a double take, no doubt surprised by his brutish behavior. He didn’t give a damn about his father’s influence or his public image right now. This thief was worse than all the gold-diggers in the ballroom added together.
“What the hell were you thinking?” He jabbed toward the necklace brazenly hanging around her neck, where her skin once again shimmered with iridescence. “Did you think you’d be able to walk out of here with it?”
Her eyes narrowed, taking in the two guards, and then she considered him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wyatt. There must be a misunderstanding. Walk out with what?”
“That necklace. The one belonging to Mrs. Boyce. The one you’re wearing now that you didn’t have on before.”
She flinched, and her fingers splayed over her collarbone, as though attempting to hide the jewelry. “I’m wearing a necklace?”
Her irrational question sharpened his need to do...
Something to her.
His security manager entered the room before anything regrettable happened. The two other guards spread out between his desk and the door, covering the various angles. Alex forced his shoulders to relax.
“Baxter, call the police for Ms. Elaina Drake, if that’s even her real name, and reclaim that necklace.”
Baxter turned to her, then Alex, and then back to her. His brows pulled low, even though the situation didn’t warrant that level of confusion.
She openly sized up the man and gave him an innocent smile. “I’m sorry, Baxter, is it? Mr. Wyatt seems to be under the impression that I’m in possession of a necklace.” She raised her hands and slowly twirled in her form-hugging dress. “However, I clearly don’t have any place to hide something like that.” She opened her palms. “I don’t even have a purse.”
Alex’s jaw slackened at her gall.
One corner of her lips twitched up into a teasing curve. “Unless this is all an elaborate setup for a strip search.”
“What the hell do you mean by tha—?”
Shouts cut off his exclamation, and Alex found his biceps grasped from behind. He’d apparently stormed closer to the maddening woman without realizing it.
He whirled on his captor. “Get your hands off me.”
Baxter paled and released him. “Sorry, sir, I was trying to protect you from trouble.”
“Your job is to get that necklace.” He scanned her from head to toe. “And that bracelet and those earrings she didn’t have on before while you’re at it.”
Elaina ignored him and kept her attention on Baxter. “How much abuse am I to tolerate from this man simply because he’s rich? Earlier, I made it clear to him that I wasn’t interested in his company, yet he continues to find reasons to harass me.”
Harass her? The word normally would have stopped him cold, but confronting a thief was not harassment.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Baxter held up his hands. “This is a terrible mistake. I take full responsibility. I’d spoken to Mr. Wyatt about you a few moments ago, and he must have misinterpreted my concerns. You’re free to go, of course.”
“The hell she is.” Alex seized her arm. “You’re all blind.”
He yanked at the necklace, but couldn’t get a grip on the pendant, as though it was an illusion. What the—? Were his eyes playing tricks on him?
She wrenched his hand away from her neck. Hard.
“Do you enjoy having restraining orders filed against you? This won’t help your reputation, Lex.” At her emphasis of the name, she gave him an alluring look through her lashes.
A shiver coursed through him, and his body clenched, wanting to take her on his desk this second. Damn his raging hormones to hell. How was the woman messing with his control like this?
If he couldn’t trust his control, he couldn’t trust himself, much less his eyes. She’d already made him think she was more beautiful than she really was, with the hair and the skin and everything. And now she’d deceived him into seeing non-existent jewelry to make him look like a fool. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she’d bewitched him.
Not that he believed in witches. But if she’d created the problem, she could undo it.
Before he could state his demand, she had the audacity to address his security manager. “Baxter, maybe you should see if someone tampered with Mr. Wyatt’s food or medication. Surely he’s not always like this.” She placed a wrist on his forehead, as though checking his temperature—which was quickly rising—and gave him a wink. “Unless, of course, we need to add an addiction to hallucinogenic drugs to your list of faults.”
The teasing statement rang in his ears. It didn’t matter that it was as false this time as it had been years before. No one accused him of that. Not anymore.
God, this was fun. Maybe it was the energy buzz talking, but Elaina hadn’t enjoyed herself this much in over ten years. This kind of danger she could handle.
Sure, unlike any other human, Alex could somehow see the jewelry. But her brain was in no shape to puzzle over that mystery yet. Her mind would clear eventually, and she could wait.
After all, no one else could see the necklace, so Alex couldn’t prove anything. And the more he protested, the more innocent she seemed in comparison.
Then his gray eyes flashed like a sword in sunlight. “Leave us.”
Alex tightened his grasp on her arm and directed his glare toward Baxter, adding weight to the command. The guards focused on their security boss as well.
Her throat constricted, as though the necklace had become a noose. They wouldn’t leave her. Would they?
Just in case, she slid the pendant along the chain to the back of her neck while no one was watching her. Futile? Yes, but she had to do what she could to protect her treasure. Maybe if Alex didn’t see the jewel, he’d forget about it.
Alex lifted his chin. “That. Was. An. Order.”
Baxter signaled to the brute squad, and all three members of the security team slinked to the office door. She struggled against Alex’s vice-like grip, sobriety returning in an instant.
“You can’t be serious. You’re leaving me alone with him?”
At least Baxter had the decency to act ashamed, his sturdy frame rounding.
Over his shoulder, Alex added, “Shut the door behind you.”
Click. No noise had ever sounded more ominous, and chills spread over her skin despite Alex’s touch. She was abandoned to the man she’d just had way too much fun provoking.
Technically, she could defend herself against any mere human, but the death—or even just an assault—of a multi-millionaire would land her real name in the news and reveal her whereabouts to her father in two seconds flat. More to the point, using up her energy to do something forceful would put her back where she started.
Her reluctance had nothing to do with the fact that she didn’t want to harm this human in particular. Nothing at all.
“I should warn you that I can scream—loudly. Your guests will hear me.”
He scowled down at her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
As if to emphasize his words, he released her arm. However when she stepped back, he kept pace, continuing to loom over her even as the backs of her heels thumped into the wood-paneled wall behind his massive desk.
The thrill of danger radiating from him did odd things to her thoughts. Her logic shouted at her to find a way to escape, but the rush pulsing through her body enticed her to stay, to explore these new sensations. Being a danger junkie had taken on a whole different meaning.
His broad shoulders caged her in, blocking the easy way out. “Fix it.” His hand circled in the air. “Take away this spell or whatever it is you did.”
His request interrupted her appreciation of his jaw line. “What?”
Had she pushed him too far? Had he snapped?
“Spell? Like a witch?” She scoffed. “Is that what you think I am?”
She wasn’t leaning closer so she could smell him. She wasn’t. Even though he smelled enticingly sharp and clean, not like soap, but like cold steel, it didn’t affect her at all.
Despite her denial, her head tilted, placing her nose within inches of his neck. She drew in a lungful of his scent. Between the afterglow of her acquisitions and his nearness, her drunken mood returned, stronger and more reckless than before.
“I can one hundred percent guarantee you that I’m not a witch.”
“Then why am I seeing things?” He caressed her bare arms, seemingly without realizing it. “Feeling things?”
Energy from his touch warmed her body, and she longed for more. Much more.
“Maybe you have a jewelry fetish? And an active imagination?”
His lips beckoned her gaze. How would they feel against hers? Not a kiss of course. She simply wanted to touch one body part to another to experience that tingling sensation there.
He stroked her arms more forcefully, pinning her to the wall. A wave of heat flowed through her body, building into a craving. She stifled a gasp and angled her head up to his.
“What about your hair?” He bent closer, his breath wafting over her. “And your skin?”
A static field hovered between their lips, only millimeters apart.
She closed her eyes, her voice a soft murmur. “What about them?”
“Your hair shifts between multiple colors, and your skin shimmers.”
No! Her knees gave out, and only his embrace kept her from crumpling to the floor.
“Y–You don’t exist.” Her insistence was weaker than intended, no thanks to an attack of hyperventilation, and the solid strength of his arms proving her wrong didn’t help either.
Apparently, his kind was more than just a bedtime story told to scare younglings away from the human world. The danger she’d felt earlier now made sense. She’d recklessly stumbled upon the one human who saw the real her. The one man who could pinpoint her heart.
The one man who could kill her.
Would kill her.
Right now.