Page 59 of Vienna Bliss

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. Created of small gold panels, each about the size of a man’s thumbnail, the panels were etched with vines and leaves. It was beautiful, delicate work that reminded her of the carved doors and panels at the villa.

“It’s beautiful,” she said after examining it for a moment.

“Will you wear it?”

Her heart thudded as if he were asking that question in truth— will you wear my collar? —rather than as part of the charade.

“Of course.” She should have been flippant, smiled and winked, but she didn’t have it in her.

She raised her hair, as she’d done for him many times before, and he slipped the choker around her neck, fastening it snugly enough to keep it in place, but not so tightly that it hurt.

She liked the pressure of it on her neck.

“I’ll take it off and leave it for you in—”

“No. It is a gift.” Alexander’s fingers skimmed the bare skin of her back, and then his touch was gone. He took her arm and nodded to Sofie.

The Interpol agent had watched the byplay with slightly widened eyes, but now she nodded and then opened the doors.

Everyone turned to watch them as they entered, Alexander erect and formal, her scantily clad and barefoot, a gold collar around her neck, her eyes submissively lowered.

It took a moment, but the party started up again.

Alexander led her over to a tall man who was standing with a glass of amber liquid near the ornate stone mantle.

“Zakaria.”

Alena glanced at him through her lashes. He was handsome, as tall as Alexander though heavier, especially through the shoulders. Apparently he was a member of the Orchid Club and had recognized her, but she didn’t recognize him.

“Alena, this is Zakaria.”

“A pleasure to meet you, sir,” she murmured.

“And to meet you.” Zakaria cleared his throat. “Your in-house traitor is on the other side of the room, so we can talk freely.”

“Wait staff,” Alena said sharply, raising her head just enough to arch a brow and meet Zakaria’s gaze. “They are people, you know. And many of them have worked events before. He may know them.”

Zakaria inclined his head, seeming surprised. “Of course. I’m very sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, be smart,” Alena said, though she’d resumed her submissive posture.

“Ouch,” Zakaria said.

Alexander snorted out a laugh, and then flagged down a waiter, ordering them both a glass of champagne.

They lingered with Zakaria as long as they could, but when Alena nudged Alexander—making it look like she was swaying into him—he moved on to the next part of their carefully planned night.

Group by group, Alexander took her around the room. Most people were in clusters of two or three and looking at the art Absolon had brought in. There were no introductions now, no polite exchanged. Instead, Alexander told them her name, then would touch her chin or hair, usually turning her head, or tipping her face up. Alena let herself be manipulated, the perfect, slutty doll.

Everyone they met knew this was an act, but she could still tell some of them were uncomfortable. Whenever possible she’d wink, or stick out her tongue. Do something to make sure they knew she was okay.

They hadn’t quite made it all the way around the room when the dinner bell rang. Everyone stepped back, the doors were thrown open, and servers carefully rolled in two long rectangular tables that were already set, water in the glasses, candles lit.

Chairs were brought in, and then everyone took a seat. Alexander sat at the head of one table, Alena at his left. Zakaria sat across from her, and Rolf on her other side. All that had been arranged.

What they had not planned for was Absolon claiming the seat beside Zakaria.

Wine was poured, the meals served, and under the table Alena dug the ball of her bare foot into Alexander’s ankle to keep him calm and quiet.