Was it just her...or was this man, thisPaul,looking at her like she was a new toy he meant to hunt and play with?
“Hello, Andie.”
Same voice. Dark silk over broken glass. Same accent. Same sense that he found her...entertaining.
He extended his hand, and conscious of the way her aunt was watching them like a hawk, she immediately extended hers as well...and barely managed to keep herself from gasping as his fingers closed around hers in a grip that had heat blazing through every inch of her body—
Because his touch...
It made her remember—
Do you want to be my friend, koukla mou...
Make sure you’ll not forget me...
If Joyce has her way, he might be your uncle soon...
She might not be close to her aunt at all, but the moment she remembered Eunice’s words, and felt Joyce staring at her still—
“Hello, sir.”
The words had already tumbled out before she even realized what she had said—
And what she had chosen to do—
Oh no.
The glint in his eyes brightened into a dangerous glitter.
With just two words...
Two tiny words...
And with it, she had turned both of them into accomplices.
His thumb brushed her knuckles before releasing her hand, the touch almost unnoticeable in its briefness.
But she felt it all the same, and that touch—
That touch was this man weaving a web of deception around her aunt from the same spool of lies she had used.
That touch was him telling her—
If you want to play it like this...
Then let’s play.
Chapter Two
PAUL MITROPOULOS HADseen many things in his forty years.
He’d watched empires built on lies crumble in courtrooms. He’d witnessed love turn to hatred over money. He’d observed the masks people wore slip just enough to reveal the rot beneath.
But he’d never seen anyone attack a lunch buffet with such unguarded pleasure.
The Four Seasons’ Sunday brunch was San Antonio society’s weekly theater. A place to display wealth, connections, and carefully curated lives. Everyone here performed for someone.
Everyone except Andromeda Jackson.
