A wolf in sheep's clothing.

She'd landed that knee strike perfectly—a textbook self-defense move delivered with all her strength. He'd clearly felt it, if that pained groan was any indication. So why was he still coming at her like some sex-crazed maniac? Did the man have supernatural healing abilities down there?

Evelyn nearly choked on her own absurd train of thought.

"Stop struggling," Alexander growled, his grip tightening as she writhed beneath him. The more she moved, the more their bodies rubbed together in ways that made her traitorous skin heat. His eyes darkened ominously. "Unless you're trying to seduce me."

Instant stillness. Evelyn went rigid as a board beneath him.

"Good," he murmured approvingly. But then something strange happened—his intense gaze softened as it roamed over her features, his fingers tracing her cheekbone with unexpected gentleness.

Evelyn shivered, this time from unease rather than desire.

The air between them grew thick, charged with something she couldn't name. Alexander carried the faint scent of magnolia blossoms—cool and elegant like the man himself, yet with an underlying warmth that lingered in her senses.

But as his fingertips brushed her skin with near-reverence, a terrible realization dawned:

He wasn't seeing her. Not really.

Those usually icy eyes now held a tenderness that could drown a person—full of devotion, protectiveness, something dangerously close to worship. But that look wasn't meant for her.

Alexander was gazing through her at someone else's ghost.

The knowledge settled like a stone in Evelyn's stomach. She'd never been particularly vain, but this—being used as some sort of living memorial—struck her as a special kind of humiliation.

His thumb brushed her lower lip, his expression so unguarded it nearly stole her breath. "Say my name again," he whispered, the command barely audible.

Evelyn's throat tightened. She knew now why he was so obsessed with hearing his name on her lips. He wanted to pretend she was someone else, if only for a moment.

"Alexander," she said softly, watching his eyes flutter closed at the sound.

The reaction was instantaneous—his entire body seemed to relax into her, the tension draining from his shoulders. For the first time since they'd met, he looked almost... vulnerable.

Then, just as suddenly, the moment shattered. Alexander's eyes snapped open, that brief softness replaced by something harder, more calculating. He pushed off her abruptly, leaving Evelyn sprawled on the carpet, suddenly very aware of her nakedness again.

"Get dressed," he said, his voice once more that cool, detached tone she'd come to associate with him. He adjusted his cuffs with practiced ease, as if they hadn't just been rolling around on the floor like animals. "We have dinner reservations in an hour."

Evelyn blinked up at him, her brain struggling to keep up with the whiplash-inducing mood swings. "Dinner?"

Alexander didn't even glance at her as he straightened his tie. "The contract starts now, Evelyn. Time to give the paparazzi something to photograph."

He strode toward the bedroom, leaving her lying there, stunned and more confused than ever.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Evelyn finally allowed herself to breathe. She'd thought she was signing up for six months of playing girlfriend to a ruthless billionaire.

Now she wasn't so sure.

Because the look in Alexander's eyes when he'd touched her—that hadn't been about contracts or public appearances. That had been something far more dangerous.

That had been personal.