The lobby of Kincaid Tower was a sea of flashing lights and aggressive shouting.
Elena felt Julian's hand slide firmly around her waist, his fingers digging into the silk of her emerald-green dress—the color of envy, he had told her. He pulled her flush against his side as the elevator doors opened.
"Smile, Elena," he murmured, his voice so low only she could hear the threat beneath the velvet. "Look like a woman who was thoroughly loved last night."
The flashbulbs were blinding. Elena blinked, her heart pulsating against her ribs like a trapped bird. She forced her lips into a practiced curve, the weight of the ten-carat diamond on her finger feeling like a lead weight.
"Mr. Kincaid! Is it true the marriage was a secret ceremony in Vegas?"
"Mrs. Kincaid, how does it feel to be the woman who finally tamed the Wolf?"
Julian didn't answer immediately. He stopped at the podium, but he didn't let her go. Instead, he leaned down, his lips brushing her temple in a gesture that looked like a sweet, private endearment to the cameras.
In reality, his breath was a searing heat against her skin, and his hand on her waist slid lower, his thumb tracing the dangerous curve of her hip.
"My wife is a private woman," Julian said into the microphones, his voice projecting a calm, possessive authority. "We chose to keep our happiness to ourselves until the time was right."
He turned his head slightly, his nose grazing Elena's cheek. The scent of his expensive cologne—that intoxicating mix of sandalwood and cold rain—clouded her senses. Despite her anger, her body betrayed her. A quiver started deep in her core, spreading outward until her thighs felt weak.
A journalist leaned forward. "Some say this is a business merger to save the Vane legacy. What do you say to the rumors of a contract?"
The air in the room turned to ice.
Elena felt Julian's grip tighten. For a split second, the mask slipped, and the predator emerged. But then, he did something she didn't expect.
He took her hand—the one wearing the ring—and brought it to his lips. He didn't kiss her knuckles. He kissed the sensitive, soft skin of her inner wrist, his tongue darting out for a fraction of a second to lick the spot where her pulse was throbbing frantically.
The room erupted in a fresh frenzy of shutters.
"Does that look like business to you?" Julian asked, his eyes locking onto the journalist, dark and challenging.
Elena's knees nearly gave out. The sensation of his wet, hot tongue against her pulse point sent a jolt of electricity straight to the heavy ache between her legs. She had to clutch his suit jacket to stay upright. To the cameras, it looked like she was swooning with love. Only Julian knew she was struggling to breathe.
"We're done here," Julian announced, shielding her with his body as he led her toward the private exit.
The moment the heavy steel doors closed behind them, isolating them in the quiet hallway, Julian released her.
The warmth vanished. The "loving" husband was gone.
"You almost stumbled," he said, his voice back to its clinical, freezing tone. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped a smudge of her makeup from his lapel. "Control your reactions, Elena. You looked like an amateur."
Elena gasped, the whiplash of his personality making her head spin. "You... you were the one who touched me like that! You did it on purpose."
Julian stepped into her space, pinning her against the wall of the corridor. He placed one hand beside her head, looming over her. The hunger was back in his eyes, raw and unmistakable.
"Of course I did it on purpose," he rasped, his gaze dropping to her trembling lips. "I wanted them to see that you belong to me. And I wanted you to remember who owns that pulse I felt jumping under my tongue."
He leaned in closer, his chest brushing her breasts, the friction of his suit against her silk dress creating a scorching static.
"Tonight, we have a dinner with the board," he whispered, his hand sliding up to tangle in her hair. "Dress in black. No underwear. I want to see if you can keep that 'amateur' shaking under control when I'm sitting right next to you under the table."
He backed away before she could scream or slap him, leaving her shivering in the hallway, her body pulsating with a mix of fury and a desperate, dark desire.