Vivienne's hands trembled as she adjusted her skirt, smoothing the fabric that had ridden up during his assault. Her fingers felt clumsy, uncoordinated, like they belonged to someone else.
The game she'd orchestrated... the elaborate deception, the role-play, the carefully constructed fiction... suddenly felt less like power and more like a noose.
She couldn't drop the mask now. She was too deep.
She forced herself to breathe, to steady her hands, to summon the ghost of "Helena" back into her eyes.
Alex stood a few feet away, watching her struggle. He was infuriatingly composed... hands in pockets, shoulders relaxed, that devastating smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He looked like a man who had all the time in the world, while she felt like she was unraveling at the seams.
Just as she thought she'd managed to pull herself together, he moved.
Sudden. Decisive.
