Vienna Betrayal - Lila Dubois Page 0,57

things—tools, her Alena Moore identification—that she would rather hold onto.

But nothing was worth the risk of going back upstairs.

Alena made it out of the parlor, and was halfway to the stairs leading down. Two flights and a door. It no longer mattered if she triggered alarms. She’d disappear into the park across the street, and hopefully be several blocks away before the authorities could get there.

Her panicked breathing was too loud, and it covered the sound of Alexander’s rapid, heavy footfalls.

He caught her on the landing between the second and first floors. She’d slowed down to make the turn, and that’s when he grabbed her.

Alexander’s hand closed around her upper arm, his fingers digging into the muscles. Her forward momentum was arrested by his hold, and all that kinetic energy transferred to her shoulder joint. A white-hot stab of pain lanced through her, but she gritted her teeth, forced herself to ignore it.

She had a split second to try to decide what to do. To decide if there was any hope of her getting out of this.

Alena tossed the HPA down the steps. It cracked and clattered as it broke into pieces.

Then she was slammed back against the wall so hard her head bounced. Alexander loomed over her, his hands squeezing her upper arms so tight, her fingertips started to go numb.

He’d done this to her once before, but this time she doubted it would end in the same way.

She looked up, into Alexander’s eyes, and she saw the hurt, the betrayal…and a frightening, seething anger.

“Alexander, I’m so sorry, it’s—”

He grabbed her by the throat, squeezing tight enough that she couldn’t speak. She could breathe, but barely. Alena grabbed his wrist, trying, ineffectually, to loosen his grip on her throat.

She fought him, raking her nails over the back of his hand, tried to knee him in the balls.

He ignored her nails, and pressed his hips to hers, trapping her legs.

Fear, icy and hot at the same time, washed through her.

Alexander was physically stronger than her, and if he lost control of his anger, he had the kind of resources that would make it easy for him to dispose of her body.

It was just a game. That’s how she approached all her jobs. This was a particularly complex, difficult game—her favorite kind.

But in games, no one got hurt.

And she’d hurt him.

Alexander was supposed to be the black knight, a piece she could manipulate across the board in order to win.

But Alexander wasn’t a game piece. He was a dangerous opponent. She’d let her feelings, her desire to submit to him, cloud her judgement.

Her red pashmina was draped around his neck like a scarf.

The devil was always in the details.

If she hadn’t been so heartbroken at leaving him, she would have remembered the scarf. If she’d remembered the scarf, he wouldn’t have had a reason to seek her out in the middle of the night.

Alexander squeezed her neck tighter, briefly cutting off her breath. She tugged helplessly at his hand. His enraged gaze bore into her as she gasped for air, prying desperately at his fingers.

He released some of the pressure, but didn’t let go. The betrayal she saw in his eyes made her sick. She closed her eyes, tears sliding down her cheeks in pain and relief as she sucked in air.

Finally, Alexander spoke, his tone ice cold and cruel. “Who are you?”

The story continues in Vienna Bargain.

He’d never felt anger like this before. He wanted to hurt her. Really hurt her.

The way she’d hurt him.

Alena—was that even her name?—was a thief, and he was a fucking fool.

“Who are you?” Alexander was surprised how cold his voice sounded. It was the polar opposite of the white-hot rage shredding his insides, leaving gaping emotional wounds, the pain constant and relentless.

He had Alena pinned to the wall. Her hands were on his wrist, trying to weaken his hold on her neck. There were tear tracks on her cheeks. He’d squeezed too hard, almost choked her.

A vile dark part of him wanted to squeeze harder. He loosened the pressure, the sane part of him horrified at what he’d just done.

Alena’s nails dug into his wrist and hand. “Let go.” Her voice was thin and reedy.

“Let go?” Alexander balled the hand not around her throat into a fist. “No. I think— I’m going to, to—” His teeth clicked as he clenched his jaw.

“Alexander, I’m so sorry,” Alena wheezed. “Let go and I’ll explain the parts I can.”

His anger was still burning inside, but instead of