A Perfect Man: International Billionaires IV: The Greeks by Caro LaFever Page B

his phone jingled from his pocket. “Maman?”
    Sophie’s hands tightened.
    The click of the phone call ending was the only sound in the silence of the limo.
    She felt like she teetered on the head of a pin, wobbling one way and then another. Trying to keep her balance, trying to stay true to her beliefs about him and this situation, trying to be the one who was right.
    “Time to go.” He leaned forward and knocked on the glass pane separating them from the driver. The man glanced back, nodded, and opened the door.
    “Oh, for goodness sake,” she muttered. “I can open the—”
    “Don’t.” His command stopped her hand from clicking on the handle. His glare met her own. “Not this time, Sophia. This time we arrive together.”
    She wanted to yell at him, but she knew getting into a temper right before marching into this party was not a smart tactical move. She was going to have to pretend she not only liked this man, she loved him.
    A sigh went through her.
    She should have taken those theater classes in college instead of accounting.
    “Good girl.”
    All the guilt and unwilling compassion inside zipped out of her as fast as a soufflé collapsed. How she wanted to smash her fist into his face just once. Maybe twice. Swinging her head around, she met another one of those looks. Those strange looks.
    His look choked back the angry words in her throat.
    The door opened and a cold November wind whipped into the interior, cooling the heat and anger inside her. The driver eased the door open, and she took the opportunity to escape from Mr. Perfect’s insufferable gaze and irritating arrogance.
    She couldn’t escape, though. Not him, nor the situation. He strode around the limo and stood at her side right in front of Irving Hall. Even with her favorite Jimmy Choo high heels on, her head barely reached his shoulders.
    “Shall we?” Alexander the Great waved her forward.
    At the entry, the doorman, decked out in a long formal coat, smiled. He pulled the handle open, swinging the elaborately scrolled doors wide to a marbled foyer.
    “Mr. Stravoudas.” A tuxedoed host paced down the marble stairs. “If you would come this way, I’ll take your coats.” He ushered them up an elegant staircase to the coat check.
    The sounds of a large crowd—laughing, chatting, glasses clinking—filled the small enclave where they stood. She suddenly remembered what she wore underneath her navy-blue coat.
    The dress.
    She hadn’t glanced at herself in the mirror after she’d put it on. Making sure her makeup and hair were already done, she’d slipped on the gown at the last moment. Her big boobs, boobs she’d ignored ever since her teenage humiliation, were stuffed into the tight bodice. Ignoring the grip of the gown’s waistline, she had slipped on her shoes and sailed through the door before any second thoughts arose to object.
    “Miss?” The host held out his hands. “May I take your coat?”
    What was her mother going to think? She’d catch one look of her daughter and know something important had happened. Sophie hadn’t worn tight clothing since she’d been seventeen. Her mother knew it and knew the reason.
    What were Melanie and Jade and Sam going to say? They knew their friend didn’t primp. They’d known she didn’t like to call attention to her body. They didn’t know why, but they knew how she felt about clothes.
    Clothes should be loose. Practical. Concealing.
    Not silky. Tight. Provocative.
    “Sophia.” Alex’s broad hands slipped across her shoulders from behind, heavy and warm. “Come on, krotída mou .”
    The foreign words stopped her frantic thoughts. “What did you call me?”
    “Let me take your coat.” He ignored her question. Stepping in front of her, he started on her buttons.
    “I can do it myself.” She batted his hands away, noticing how tiny and ineffectual hers were in comparison to his.
    The coat came off.
    She felt nude standing before him.
    She glanced up to meet his turquoise