The entire room, heavily weighted to high-octane men, found her mesmerizing. Why wouldn't they? She had her mother's ingenuous way of tilting up a wide-eyed gaze so all a man could think about was taking her under his wing. She also possessed her father's ability to draw people out. Her natural empathy made her anyone's immediate best friend. Add in her quick wit and unstoppable smile and she was irresistible.
She didn't lap up the attention the way another woman might, either, which only added to her attractiveness. He felt lucky to be with her, which was a singular sensation for a man who had always been the prize.
"I'd do whatever she asked of me, too." Kiergen's eyes stayed a little too long on Isidora's hips as she enjoyed herself on the dance floor.
"Hey." Ramon waited for his friend's gaze to track back to his, then shook his head. He meant it, and Kiergen knew it, which wasn't comfortable. Ramon hated being obvious. Revealing any detail about his wants or intentions, about what he valued, was something that could be used against him. He rarely exposed his throat.
He couldn't stop himself, though. With one question, Isidora had released a roar of desire in him. What else do you want from me?
The list had been so long, he hadn't known where to start, but the way her tongue had absently dampened her lips had given him an idea.
He couldn't stop wondering what would have happened if she hadn't dragged her antipathy back into place along with her filmy wrap.
They wouldn't have made it to this party, that was for damn sure.
The song ended and she motioned that she needed a drink. She wound her way through the crowd toward him and Ramon handed across the glass that had been delivered while she'd been dancing.
"I had my chauffeur bring this up for you. For your father," Kiergen said, giving her a key fob that advertised his team logo.
Isidora had already fan-girled over Kiergen, claiming she and her father were both avid race followers, even though Ramon would have sworn she hadn't watched in years. Certainly not in person.
Her fawning over Kiergan had been annoying enough. Now Kiergen, the narcissist, was trying to keep the admiration train going with his penny candy swag.
Isidora's face brightened all the same. "I would have settled for a selfie, but thank you so much."
"We can do that, too." Kiergen's arm looped casually around her shoulders as she took the snap. He sent another smirk Ramon's way and hardened his arm to keep her close as she lowered her phone. "But now you have to answer something for me. I'm dying to know if you've ever kissed Henri."
Isidora pulled away in shock. "What?"
Ramon knew what was coming and his hackles rose even as Kiergen thumbed toward him.
"This one tried to kiss Cinnia. Did you never hear that story?" Kiergen grinned his enjoyment as Ramon glowered a warning. Isidora wouldn't see the funny side of it.
Kiergen couldn't resist, however, and launched into the tale that had become a small legend in their circle.
Shortly after Henri and Cinnia had become exclusive, Henri had brought her to watch one of Ramon's races. The next morning, as their usual group had gathered for breakfast, Henri had stepped away to take a call.
Ramon had been puzzled by his brother's fascination with her. Until Cinnia, neither of them had stuck with any particular woman more than a handful of days, let alone gone back for a particular one and locked her in for the foreseeable future.
Ramon had been high on his recent win and, well, sometimes brothers were jackasses to each other for the sake of it. Whatever had possessed him, he had mimicked Henri's preferred French greeting, moved behind where Cinnia sat, set his hand on her shoulder and leaned in to kiss her just as if he was Henri.
Maybe it had been a test. His brother was plenty sharp enough to look after himself, but there had been a part of Ramon that had needed to know how sincere Cinnia's feelings for Henri really were.
"We all thought he was Henri," Keirgen was saying. "For about one second she did, too. Then, right before he kissed her, she screamed. Jumped a meter. I thought she was going to punch him. Henri came running, ready to draw blood. The look on Ramon's face was the most priceless. He didn't expect her to know the difference. We all lost it." Kiergen was still laughing, two years later.
Isidora chuckled politely, shaking her head. "No, I've never heard that story. Poor Cinnia."
"Lucky Henri. But now I have to know, have you done the kiss test? Did you pass?"
"I'll pass on doing the test! Cinnia would punch me."
"Ha! Perhaps you're right." Kiergen was plainly disappointed, though. He asked after Cinnia and Henri, then moved on, leaving them alone.
Ramon watched Isidora's head bob lightly in time to the beat as she sipped the last of her drink. He was about to ask her to dance when she said, "I did, though."
"Did what?"
She kept her eyes on the dancers, speaking just loudly enough for him to hear her over a song about loving cheap thrills. "I kissed Henri."
It was time to switch to water. She kept working up a thirst on the dance floor, then draining gin-and-tonics. That was her third. Fourth? If she was losing count, it was definitely time to switch. Also her tongue was getting way too loose if she was starting to think that baiting her fiancé was a good idea.
Perhaps he thought so, too, because he plucked her glass out of her hand and gave it to his guard, then caught her elbow and spun her a few steps, pulling her behind a heavy curtain.
"What...where-?" She had thought the drapes decorative, but they disguised alcoves where chairs were stacked. The towers at the back reached to the ceiling, while others sat two and three high near where they stood crowded into the small space at the front.
"When?" he demanded, hands firm on her upper arms.
She automatically brought her hands to his chest and-Oh. Her fingers splayed against the firm heat of his chest, instinctively wanting to feel as much of his muscled torso beneath fine linen as possible.
"Isidora. When did you kiss Henri?"
Her light press into his chest was no match for his strength. He drew her closer so his mouth brushed the hair near her ear, causing a frisson of tickling sensation all the way down her neck and farther to the base of her spine. "Tell me."
"I don't know." How was she supposed to think, surrounded by his masculine scent like this? Ever since that moment at the flat, she'd been wondering if she had imagined the flash of carnal heat in him. She knew it had happened on her side, but him?
I've always thought you were beautiful.
He was such a liar! He hadn't even known she was alive. Still didn't.
Did he?
"Since Cinnia?"
"No. Long before. I was visiting Trella at Sus Brazos." She threw back her head, but it was nearly impossible to see him in the thin sliver of light that came in over the top of the drapes from the dimly lit ballroom. "I wasn't at university yet."
"Are you serious?" His hands tightened on her arms. "And he kissed you? Or did you kiss him?"
She wanted to kiss him.
Oh, she was sorry she'd been drinking. All her defenses were slipping away like scarves off an exotic dancer. Her body wanted to sway and slither against him. Come hither, virile man. She really was just like her mother.
And deep down, despite her continued lectures against that silly child who had been so infatuated, she wanted to believe that he did, indeed, think she was beautiful. She wanted to prove it. She wanted to bring him to his knees with lust and adoration.
"Why does it matter?" she asked, nudging her nose against his stubbled jaw, feeling his hands flex on her arms and finding it erotic to be trapped in his hold like this. Since when did she have a kink for restraint?
"It matters. How old were you exactly?"
"I don't know." She grew a little drunker as she realized how invested he was. She couldn't resist taunting. "Sixteen?"
His grip tightened to just short of painful. "Which would have made him twenty-four. I'll kill him."
She smiled at how incensed he was. "Relax," she chided. "It was my idea. I came up to him like this." She shifted enough to feel his stubble graze her lips. She stepped in so her arms looped up behind his neck and her body brushed his. "He didn't scream when I did this..."
She went onto tiptoes so she was leaning against the taut line of his body and pressed her mouth to his, vaguely remembering the feel of a warm mouth that had parted with a smile, not anything resembling passion or reciprocation.
"I'm not Ramon," Henri had said, gently but promptly easing her back onto her feet. "And I'm not going to tell him, if that's what you're hoping. But thank you. That was very nice."
It had been a very adolescent move, both an attempt to prompt Henri to tell Ramon, hopefully inciting possessiveness, and an exploration of her feelings for the wrong twin. The peck had amounted to a Christmas kiss. Henri had essentially patted her on the head and told her to go play. Only the compassion in his eyes had kept the moment from being completely humiliating.