Page 26 of Vienna Bliss

“Dieter,” Alexander said in greeting as he stepped out of the elevator after Alena.

“Welcome home, Mr. Wagner.”

“This is Ms. Moreau.”

“Please, call me Alena.” She offered her hand.

Dieter shook it briefly, seeming slightly uncomfortable with her American friendliness. On the return trip from Moldova, in between creating and then discarding several dozen plans to replace Alena’s horrific, insane proposal, he’d occasionally stopped to try and pinpoint what it was about her he found so hopelessly, helplessly fascinating.

She was less reserved now than she had been when they’d first met. She was no longer the mysterious regal woman in the cloak. They’d pushed one another, stripped away each other’s emotional walls until they were both raw.

The way she’d looked at him, the way she’d talked as she outlined the plan had made him feel sick. She hadn’t been herself. There had been no slightly aloof but amused air; instead she’d sounded cold and, and…

Masochistic.

She’d proposed a plan that would leave her even more emotionally wounded.

As her Dom—because he feared that, though they hadn’t been intimate since coming together in his office—she still thought of him in those terms, he had to put a stop to this. To protect her.

She’d said she loved him, trusted him, but those were byproducts of what he’d done to her.

And now, to punish them both, she’d come up with this insane plan.

A plan which he had countered with several of his own. All of which had been, in the end, far more complicated and clunky. The beauty of her scheme was that they could give Absolon the illusion of discovery. Absolon would, if they, particularly she, played their parts right, assume that he had information he shouldn’t about Alexander’s private life.

Jakob went down the hall to the front door of his apartment and opened it, disappearing inside.

“Chef has dinner ready. Would you prefer to eat in the dining room, or have it brought up?”

“The dining room.”

If Dieter was surprised, he hid it, only nodding, before turning to Alena. “Ma’am, may I unpack for you?”

“Yes, thank you, Dieter.”

“The guest room,” Alexander said.

Alena stiffened beside him, and there was a brief pause before Dieter nodded. Then his valet took their bags out of the elevator, rolling them down the hallway.

“The guest room might be too nice for your slave,” Alena mused. “I’m sure your staff could find you a dog crate.”

“Stop it, Alena.”

“Or what?” Her lips were curled in a half smile, one eyebrow arched slightly, but her eyes glittered with rage. A rage she was trying to hide.

Damn it, he needed to get her alone so they could talk about this, then he needed to get her away from him. He was the reason she was like this. The reason she was hurting, suffering.

Jakob emerged. “The apartment is clean.”

“Thank you, Jakob. Please let Zakaria know that—” He’s an interfering asshole. “—I appreciate his diligence.”

Jakob nodded, then looked at Alena for a long minute before turning and jogging down the stairs.

Alexander put his hand on the small of her back and guided her towards the door.

His apartment looked much the same as before, which struck him as odd. That was stupid, he knew. The thing that had changed was him.

His heart.