Seducing my Ex-husband back (Claire) novel Chapter 12

Chapter 12

THE TRAP

~CLAIRE’S POV~

Alexander’s hand was fire against my thigh.

His fingers traced lazy circles on my bare skin as our limousine soared through Manhattan traffic, the city lights casting shadows across his sharp jawline.

He looked devastatingly handsome in his black tuxedo, every inch the billionaire prince who had come to my rescue.

“Tell me something you’ve missed about New York,” he murmured, bringing my knuckles to his lips.

The kiss sent electricity shooting up my arm, and I had to concentrate to keep my voice steady.

“The energy. The way the city never sleeps, never apologizes for being too much.”

“Like you.” His green eyes burned as they met mine. “Too beautiful, too intelligent, too perfect to be real.”

Heat pooled low in my belly at the raw hunger in his voice.

Alexander’s control was legendary in business circles, but I could see it fraying at the edges whenever he looked at me.

His free hand clenched and unclenched against his thigh, his breathing slightly raised up, his pupils dilated with want.

He was fighting himself, and losing.

“We’re here,” he said roughly as the car stopped.

Through the tinted windows, I could see the red carpet stretching like a river of blood toward the hotel entrance.

Photographers lined both sides, their cameras already flashing in expectation.

My chest tightened. “Alexander, I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

His hand cupped my face instantly, thumb stroking my cheek with ruining gentleness. “Hey. Look at me.” His voice was pure

command wrapped in silk.

“You are Claire Elizabeth Winfred. You are brilliant, successful, and breathtaking. These people should be honored to breathe

the same air as you.”

The conviction in his voice almost made me believe it.

He stepped out first, then stretched his hand to help me from the car.

The moment my heels touched the red carpet, the world exploded in camera flashes and shouted questions.

“Alexander! How does it feel to be engaged?”

“Miss Winfred! Tell us about the proposal!”

“When’s the wedding?”

Alexander’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me against his side with possessive force. His body sent out heat and barely controlled desire, muscles taut beneath his designer jacket.

“Smile,” he whispered against my ear, his breath making me shiver. “Show them you’re mine.”

We moved down the carpet like we were dancing, Alexander’s hand never leaving my body.

Palm splayed across my lower back, fingers occasionally dipping to the curve of my hip, thumb brushing the exposed skin of my

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shoulder.

Every touch was a brand, a claim, a promise of what he wanted to do to me later.

The hotel ballroom was a masterpiece of crystal chandeliers and marble cues.

Manhattan’s elite came out with champagne flutes and predatory smiles, their eyes tracking our every move.

“Alexander!” A tall man with graying temples approached, arms spread wide. “The man of the hour!”

“Thomas,” Alexander smiled, though his grip on me tightened. “Thank you for organizing this circus.”

Thomas Hartwell was handsome in that distinguished older man way, but there was something oily about his gaze as it remained on my dress.

“And this must be the famous Claire. My God, the photos don’t do you justice.”

His eyes dropped to my cleavage with clear liking.

Alexander’s body went stiff beside me, violence simmering just beneath his polished surface. “Careful, Thomas.”

“Oh, come now,” Thomas laughed, completely missing the warning. “I’m just saying you’re a lucky man. Claire, darling, if you ever get tired of this brooding billionaire act…..”

“That’s enough.” Alexander’s voice could have cut glass.

I forced a smile, placing my hand on Alexander’s chest to calm him. “I think I’ll get a drink. The champagne looks divine.”

“I can call a server…..‘

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“I would prefer to stretch my legs,” I said quickly, needing space from his overwhelming presence and the effect of his barely

leashed desire.

As I walked toward the bar, I caught pieces of conversation from Alexander’s circle:

“Jesus, look at her move…”

“Lucky bastard doesn’t deserve something that perfect…”

“I would give anything for one night with that…”

I gripped my champagne flute tighter, forcing my face to remain calm. This was my new reality–being objectified by men who saw me as Alexander’s prize rather than my own person.

I was on my third glass when familiar hands slid around my waist.

“Everything alright?” Alexander’s voice was rough with concern and something darker. “I apologize for Thomas. He’s an idiot.”

“It’s fine,” I managed.

His lips found my neck, pressing hot, open–mouthed kisses along my pulse point. The public display made my skin burn with

embarrassment and unwanted arousal.

“Alexander, what are you doing?”

“Kissing my fiancée.” His teeth grazed my earlobe. “People are watching.”

“That’s exactly why you should stop.”

“Who cares?” His hand splayed possessively across my stomach, pulling me back against his hard chest.

“Let them see how much I want you.”

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I could feel him….all of him….pressed against me, his control completely shattered.

Every line of his body screamed possession, dominance, raw need barely contained by expensive fabric and social convention.

Then his mouth was at my ear, his voice a dark whisper that made my blood freeze.

“By the way, I invited Richard and Monica tonight.”

I jerked away from him so hard I nearly spilled my champagne. “What did you just say?”

Alexander frowned, apparently confused by my reaction.

“Richard Blackwood. He’s been desperately trying to get Hayes Corporation to invest in his failing company. This seemed like the perfect opportunity for us to meet.”

My hands started trembling. “You could have warned me.”

“I thought you would want to show him how happy you are,” Alexander said, genuine confusion in his voice. “How completely you’ve moved on.”

But I hadn’t moved on.

Standing here in this glittering ballroom, I felt like the broken woman who had fled New York two years ago.

Small. Pathetic. Invisible.

My eyes swept the crowd frantically until they landed on a familiar figure near the orchestra.

Monica, stunning in red silk, laughing with a group of society wives like she belonged here.

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