Dangerous Games

"You're pushing your luck," Alexander said as they entered the limousine after breakfast. The moment the door closed, his charming smile vanished. "That little performance back there..."

"Was exactly what you wanted," Isabella finished, maintaining a safe distance on the leather seat. "The smitten fiancée, remember?"

His hand shot out, catching her wrist and pulling her closer. "There's a difference between playing your part and playing with fire." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Don't test me, Isabella."

She met his gaze steadily, despite her racing heart. "Why? Afraid you might lose control?"

His other hand caught her chin, fingers pressing just hard enough to command attention. "I never lose control. That's why I'm alive and most of my enemies aren't – metaphorically speaking, of course."

"Of course," she echoed, trying to ignore how his touch sent shivers down her spine. "Heaven forbid the great Alexander Kane show any human weakness."

Something dark flickered in his eyes. "You want to see weakness? Fine."

Before she could react, he pulled her onto his lap, one hand tangling in her hair while the other gripped her hip. His mouth crashed into hers, hot and demanding, nothing like the calculated kisses they'd shared for show. This was raw, almost angry, and embarrassingly effective at turning her bones to liquid.

Isabella knew she should push him away, maintain some dignity. Instead, she found herself melting into him, her hands sliding into his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervor. He groaned, the sound vibrating through her chest, and bit her lower lip.

"Sir," the driver's voice came through the intercom, "we're approaching Bergdorf's."

Alexander pulled back, his breathing heavy. Isabella was mortified to realize she was straddling him, her dress hiked up around her thighs. His eyes were stormy as he studied her flushed face.

"Still think I'm incapable of weakness?" he asked roughly.

She scrambled off his lap, trying to straighten her clothes and hair. "That wasn't weakness. That was proving a point."

His laugh was harsh. "Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart." He adjusted his tie with practiced ease. "Now, let's go spend an obscene amount of money on your new wardrobe."

Shopping with Alexander Kane was an exercise in frustration. He vetoed anything he deemed too casual, too modest, or too colorful, steering her instead toward elegant designers and classic silhouettes.

"You're enjoying this too much," Isabella muttered as he added another evening gown to the growing collection.

"I'm investing in my company's image." He held up a red La Perla negligee. "This too."

Heat flooded her cheeks. "Absolutely not."

"The contract stipifies 'full spousal duties,'" he reminded her with a wicked smile. "Unless you plan to perform those duties in flannel pajamas?"

A saleswoman approached before Isabella could respond, her eyes wide with recognition. "Mr. Kane! We didn't expect you today. And this must be your fiancée?"

Alexander's arm slid around Isabella's waist, pulling her close. "Isabella Martinez, soon to be Isabella Kane." His tone was warm, proud – a complete transformation from moments ago. "We're preparing for the honeymoon."

The saleswoman beamed. "Of course! We have some beautiful new pieces from Paris..." She paused, uncertain. "Though perhaps the bride would be more comfortable in our private viewing room?"

"Perfect." Alexander kissed Isabella's temple. "Choose whatever makes you feel beautiful, darling. Money is no object."

Isabella recognized the challenge in his eyes. Fine. If he wanted to play games...

"Thank you, my love." She stretched up to kiss him properly, feeling him tense in surprise before responding. When she pulled back, she smiled sweetly. "Why don't you wait here while I try things on? I want to surprise you."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Of course, sweetheart."

In the private room, surrounded by lace and silk, Isabella allowed herself a small smile of victory. Two could play at this game of control and seduction. She selected several pieces – all elegant, all tasteful, but each chosen specifically to drive Alexander crazy.

When she emerged an hour later, his expression as she handed over her selections was worth every moment of embarrassment.

"Will these do?" she asked innocently.

He glanced through the tissue-wrapped packages, his jaw tightening. "You're playing a dangerous game, Isabella."

"I'm simply fulfilling my contractual obligations." She placed a hand on his chest, smoothing his tie. "Unless you'd prefer flannel after all?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Car. Now."

The ride back to the Plaza was charged with tension. Alexander worked on his phone, apparently ignoring her, but his free hand rested on her knee, thumb stroking small circles that made it hard to think.

"We have dinner reservations at Le Bernardin," he said finally. "Wear the blue Vera Wang. And..." his hand slid slightly higher, "whatever else you bought today that matches."

Isabella forced herself to remain still under his touch. "Trying to ensure you get your money's worth?"

His hand tightened on her thigh. "Oh, I intend to get much more than that." He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. "Remember, you started this game. Don't complain when I finish it."

The elevator ride to their suite was silent, heavy with anticipation. As soon as the doors closed behind them, Alexander pushed her against the wall, caging her with his arms.

"You think you can handle this?" he demanded softly. "Being Mrs. Kane isn't just about pretty dresses and public appearances. It's about belonging to me. Completely."

Isabella lifted her chin. "I signed the contract. I know what I agreed to."

"Do you?" His hand cupped her face, thumb tracing her lower lip. "Because right now, you're playing with fire thinking you won't get burned. But I burn everything I touch, Isabella. It's what I do."

Something in his voice – pain? regret? – made her reach up, touching his face. His stubble was rough against her palm.

"Maybe," she whispered, "that's because no one's ever been fireproof before."

For a moment, something vulnerable flashed in his eyes. Then he stepped back, mask firmly in place.

"Get ready for dinner. We leave in an hour."

As Isabella watched him stride away, she realized she'd glimpsed something rare and precious – a crack in Alexander Kane's perfect facade. The question was: what would it cost her to see more?

And was she willing to pay the price?