Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 60711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Paul.
The stranger from last night.
His name was Paul.
And he was the man everyone said who could be her uncle if Joyce had her way?
A part of her wanted to look away. But a part of her also couldn’t stop staring. He had been very, very beautiful in the dark. But in daylight, he was sinfully breathtaking, with the way his copper hair caught fire in the sun, and how his cheekbones could cut glass, and oh, those lips of his—
Stop it, Andie!
Panic filled her, but this only caused her gaze to collide with his—
Gray.
It had been too dark last night to see the color of his eyes.
But now she knew.
It was gray.
The same shade of storm clouds, winter mornings, and heartless endings.
His eyes were emotions turned into ice, except for that glint—
Was it just her...or was this man, this Paul, 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 HAD seen 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.
His little mouse from last night.
She’d filled her plate with quiet concentration. Crab cakes balanced next to prime rib. Three different salads because apparently choosing was impossible. Bread rolls that she buttered with the reverence of someone who understood that pleasure could be simple.
And dangerous.
Her table manners were exquisite. Back straight, napkin properly placed, using the correct fork. Someone had trained her well. Yet she ate with genuine enjoyment, eyes closing briefly when something tasted particularly good.
That little hum when she tasted the hollandaise.
The same sound she’d made when he’d pressed her against the wall.
Joyce hadn’t stopped talking since they’d sat down. Little barbs wrapped in concern.
“Andie, darling, you might want to pace yourself. There’s still dessert.”
The girl paused, fork halfway to her mouth. He watched her process the words, that little furrow appearing between her brows.
Then—there. That flicker of understanding.
“There’s dessert? What kind?” Her voice held genuine curiosity, but underneath it, something else. Like she was choosing to interpret the barb as kindness.
Interesting.
“That dress is quite...snug. Perhaps we should go shopping.”
“Would you?” The gratitude seemed real. “I only brought three dresses, and I don’t really know what’s appropriate here. You always look so perfect, Aunt Joyce.”
Joyce blinked, thrown by the response. And truth be told, if he were in her position, he would have likely felt the same. Surely someone could not be truly this...nice?
“Men prefer women who eat like birds, you know.”
This time Andie set down her fork. Looked at her aunt with those impossibly sincere eyes.
“That must be so hard for you. I tried a diet once in college. I lasted exactly four hours before I ate an entire pizza.” A small, rueful smile. “I don’t know how you have the willpower.”
There it was again. That fascinating ability to deflect cruelty with compassion. Was she truly this kind, or was this her own form of armor?
He wanted to find out.
Wanted to peel back every layer until he found what was real underneath.
Joyce’s phone rang. “Oh, I simply must take this.” She rose with practiced irritation. “Do excuse me.”
The moment she disappeared, Paul leaned back.
“What hold does she have on you?”