“With my brothers,” I answer. “A meeting.”
“And?” Her voice is steady, but there’s fear beneath it. “What was the conclusion?”
“I’m going to Zurich.”
I cross the room, stopping a few feet from her. “Deveraux has probably moved your mother there. He’s using her to bait you. I’ll go find them. Tomorrow he’s hosting a private luncheon in Zurich. Roman promised he can get me in under an alias, but I must have a date. If I attend, I’ll have a chance to get close. To end this.”
She folds her arms tightly across her chest, chin lifting. “Am I coming with you?”
“Of course not.”
Her arms drop, her eyes widen, and then: “So you want me to sit here while you go on a date with another woman?”
I stop. Completely.
Eyes locked on hers.
Her accusation hangs in the air like smoke.
“A date?” I repeat, stunned.
“Yes, Dimitri.” Her voice rises. “Roman said you need a date. So what—someone else gets to hang on your arm while you fight for my mother? While I stay here pretending everything is fine?”
She’s jealous?
The laugh almost slips—almost—but she’s looking at me like she wants to drive a knife straight through my ribs, so I keep my expression perfectly blank.
“Vivian, it’ll mean nothing,” I say evenly. “Just some contracted woman.”
“The same way you contracted me,” she fires back. “She’ll hang on your arm, pretend to kiss you, touch you, to make it believable. Is that it?”
“Vivian—”
“I’m coming with you,” she declares, stepping forward, eyes blazing. “I get to be your only date. If I don’t come, then forget the plan. You’re not going.”
“But I can’t forget it, Vivian,” I grit out. “It’s the only plan that’ll work right now. And I promise—whoever I go with won’t even get close enough to do all the things you just said.”
She nods slowly.
I think she’s yielding.
I actually feel relieved.
Until she smiles—sweet, poisonous.
“Well,” she says lightly, “as soon as you leave, I’ll find a contracted man and go on a date with him since my husband is unavailable. I promise I won’t let him touch me or kiss me. But if I feel particularly in the mood….” She shrugs. “I may let him fuck me.”
“Vivian!”
The word tears out of me. Jealousy surges hot and acidic through my veins, raw enough to burn.
She lifts her chin, glaring. “What?”
I step toward her, pulse pounding like war drums.
“Don’t play games with me,” I say, voice low, dangerous. “You have no idea what you’re provoking right now.”
Her eyes flash. “Then don’t provoke me first.”
