As Marc went out of the room to get the organization started, Alex's phone buzzed. Getting it out of his pocket, he glanced at the screen. Another damn text from Zac.

Any new information?

Christ, he'd only just gotten here; what did the guy expect?

No, Alex texted back. I've only just arrived so I decided to throw a party.

Which would wind Zac up no end. Then again, the guy was so anal, he practically deserved it.

Almost instantly Alex's phone rang with a call. But not from Zac.

Alex pressed the button, answering it. "This is about the party isn't it?"

"You've got to be kidding me." Eva sounded incensed. "Your stepfather is in the hospital, in a coma. Gabriel and Honor are in hiding in case some bastard comes gunning for Honor. And you're throwing a fucking party?"

Anger rose inside him, but he fought it down because Eva had no idea what he was dealing with here, the demons he had to wrestle. The fact that in two days' time he was going to have to face the man who'd hurt him. Who'd held his head down over a shitty bathroom vanity and jerked his jeans and underwear down. Who'd forced himself inside Alex while he'd cried at the pain. At the humiliation. Wept fucking tears that had been still on his cheeks when the prick had finished, evidence of his weakness.

And afterwards kept quiet so the father he'd adored would never know what a victim his son had turned out to be. So no one ever knew.

Including Eva King.

"Relax," he said, his voice soothing while inside he felt anything but. "There's a private cocktail party in a couple of days for Apocalypse players to meet each other and to scope out the venue. I could go check it out tonight, but visiting any earlier would look strange and possibly indicate a lack of confidence. This is all about power plays, Eva, and those I'm very good at indeed."

There was a grumpy silence down the other end of the line. Then she said, "This is important, Alex. It's important to me."

He almost said it, almost asked why. But he didn't. Because maybe it would confirm what he suspected, that he and Eva shared a common experience. And he didn't want to know that if so, especially when it wasn't the kind of experience you wanted to share with anyone at all, let alone a friend.

So all he said was, "Trust me, Eva."

There was more silence. A difficult one this time, and he found himself tensing, preparing for confidences he didn't want to hear.

But like he hadn't asked the question, she didn't offer anything more other than, "Wonderful. I guess I have no choice." Then she ended the call without another word.

Katya woke with a start and lay there blinking up at a very red-looking ceiling, taking a couple of seconds to orient herself. Which was a couple of seconds more than normal.

Damn jetlag.

Slowly, she sat up, then swung her legs off the bed and onto the floor, allowing herself another look around the room to make sure everything was as she'd left it.

The decor was so overblown she hadn't at first known what to make of it. The walls were papered with some kind of Chinese-style pattern in red and gold, the floorboards polished wood and scattered with brightly colored silk Persian rugs. And taking up center stage in the middle of the room was a massive, intricately carved four-poster bed hung with red silk curtains. The quilt on the bed was almost the same color, patterned with gold, the sheets beneath black silk.

It was clearly a room designed for seduction. And that wasn't even taking into account the bathroom, with its huge circular sunken copper bath, big enough for at least five people, and shower obviously designed for a football team.

This was supposed to be Alex's personal apartment and the contrast between this and his penthouse in New York couldn't be more pronounced. In New York there were massive windows, light, and clean lines. Here was sensual opulence, self-indulgence, and excess.

She didn't like it, preferring simplicity and practicality. But then that was Alex St. James's creed: everything in moderation except moderation.

The General, brought up in Soviet Russia, would have been appalled.

Sliding off the bed, Katya glanced down at her watch. Looked like her short nap to catch up on missed sleep had lasted for much longer than she'd intendedshe'd slept a whole three hours.

The sound of the shower came from the bathroom and for a second every sense she possessed went still, listening. Poised to deal with any unexpected intruders.

And then her brain caught up.

Alex must have come back to the apartment. Which meant he'd returned while she'd been asleep.

Unease shifted inside her. She didn't normally sleep so heavily and had trained herself to wake up at the slightest sound. Yet he'd come in and gone through into the bathroom without waking her.

She took a breath, forcing aside the feeling. She had more practical things to think about anyway, such as getting a proper briefing from her more irritating by the moment boss.

He'd steadfastly refused to talk to her the rest of the flight from New York, involving himself with paperwork that he ostentatiously spread all over the table. She didn't know why that was, only that it must have had something to do with her little power play and that he wasn't happy about it. Strange when her proving she could play the part he'd asked her to was supposed to be the whole point.

And then there'd been that instance downstairs as they'd arrived, when he'd been quite clearly angry with her for questioning his schedule.

She couldn't work that out either. The squeeze to her buttock had been unexpected and unwarranted. But she'd seen the glint in his eyes as he'd delivered it. He was putting her in her place, no question.

Because you got to him.

Katya looked toward the bathroom. The sound of the shower had ceased.

Had she? And, if so, in what way?

She frowned, disturbed by how satisfying she found that thought. And by how much she wanted to do it again. Which was complete madness. This wasn't about her. This was about the mission.

The door to the bathroom opened abruptly and Alex strode out, his black hair still wet, curls of it sticking to his neck. All he wore was a towel.

Katya felt something inside her sit up and take notice, wanting to watch him. Odd. She'd seen him shirtless many times before. Yet ... she couldn't seem to stop herself from noting the hard-cut muscle of his torso and the way the water drops on his skin only seemed to highlight the intriguing dips and hollows of his chest and abs.

Her fingers itched, as she remembered the softness of his mouth and roughness of stubble....

No. He was an impressive physical specimen, it was true, but that was all.

He didn't say a word to her, stopping in front of the closet where the Fourth Circle staff had put away all her and Alex's clothing earlier in a flurry of activity. The doors of the closet were the same red and gold Chinese silk as the walls, and when he pulled them open she saw the insides of the doors were mirrored.

Had he even seen her? Did he know she was awake?

She opened her mouth to speak only to have the words die in her throat as he dropped his towel.

"Good morning," he said casually, not turning around. "Or should I say good evening. Did you have a good nap? By the way, you have the cutest little snores when you're asleep."

Katya frowned. She'd seen plenty of naked men before, both during her training and afterwards. The sight had never affected her in any way and didn't do so now. So what was with the towel drop? He was always calculating in his actions, which meant he was trying to do something. Prove a point. But what was it? Was he trying to embarrass her perhaps?

Folding her arms, Katya let her gaze drift down his bare back, watching the graceful play of his deltoids as he reached for a drawer inside the closet, taking out a pair of black boxers. Letting herself look lower still, over his narrow hips and muscular buttocks, long, lean thighs- Are you sure it doesn't affect you?

"Something I can help you with?"

Her head came up with a jerk, his intense blue gaze meeting hers in the mirror.

And, oh God, she could feel heat rising to her skin. A blush. How.... strange. And, even stranger, the fact that he'd caught her watching him made her want to look away. She didn't, though. To do so would betray the fact that his nakedness had affected her, and it hadn't.

One corner of his mouth lifted. Yes, as she thought. This was another of his games.

"No, sir," she said coolly. "I'm merely observing the fact that your exercise regime must be fairly intense."

"Yes, it is." He made no effort to put on his underwear, merely standing there, studying her in the mirror. "You're a little flushed, darling. What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter." She lifted her chin. "I was hoping for that briefing."

"Ah yes, that." Without any hurry at all, he stepped into his boxers and pulled them up, then reached for a hanger that held a tuxedo jacket and a pair of black pants. "It'll have to wait until after this party tonight."

Frustration edged out the heat in her cheeks and the itch in her fingers. "I'm going to have to insist. How can I be expected to perform my duties adequately without the proper information?"

"Oh, you're going to have to insist, are you?" He pulled on the pants, tugging up the zipper and buttoning them, then reaching to pull a plain white shirt off another hanger. Turning, he faced her, shrugging on the shirt but not doing it up, his chest bare. "Perhaps you've forgotten you're employed by me? Perhaps you need a reminder?"

She could hear the edge in his voice. So he was angry. Still. "Have I done something to offend you?" she asked bluntly.

"What makes you say that?"

"You seem ... angry. And you're standing around..."-she gestured at him-"... nakedat least more naked than usual. Also, downstairs earlier you pinched me."

"I'm not angry. I'm merely standing around naked because we need to be comfortable in each other's presence. And I pinched you earlier because we were in the foyer of my club and you were arguing with me about schedules. I had to do something to remind you of your place. In fact, you're damn lucky I didn't call that a mistake and demand my forfeit." His voice was smooth, the edge gone.

"I was careful. No one heard me ask."

"Nevertheless. My lovers don't concern themselves with my schedule, so don't mention it in public again. Now." He turned back to the closet. "My party will be well under way soon and we need to make an entrance. So why don't you go change into something a little less comfortable."

So, not even an hour into this and she'd made yet another mistake. God, who knew that acting a part that appeared to be so simple, would turn out to be so difficult? For the success of this mission, she was going to have to do better.

"Indeed," she said. "Did you have something specific in mind?"

He was leafing through the hangers, examining the quite frankly excessive collection of dresses and gowns he'd brought along for her. "I think perhaps ... this."

It was not, much to her relief, the shimmering golden gown, but the green silk cocktail dress with the whisper-thin straps. Which meant no bra and, because the skirt was short, no thigh holster either.

"Of course," she said levelly. "If you'll give me five minutes, I'll put it on."

He came over and laid the dress on the bed, then turned, the look in his eyes glinting. "I would do it now if I were you. We don't want to be late."

"Certainly." She paused, waiting for him to leave the room. But he didn't move and a slow realization began to dawn inside of her.

God in heaven. He wanted her to get dressed in front of him.

Her shock must have been obvious, because he said smoothly, "Like I said, we need to be comfortable with each other, Katya mine, and a little mutual nakedness definitely helps that along."

She'd undressed in front of people all the time in the army. There was no privacy in an army barracks after all. Yes, it had only been in front of women, but that didn't matter. Her body was a well-maintained, well-oiled machine and she'd never been self-conscious or embarrassed about it. But this was different. Alex wasn't a fellow soldier; he was a client, her employer.

A man ...

His gaze was bright edged, a shard of blue glass. And she knew that despite what he'd said, he was angry. And that he was punishing her for the slip down in the foyer.

By rights she should be offended and outraged at his suggestion. Yet it wasn't either of those emotions that gripped her but something else. A strange thrill. A sense of her own power like the one she'd had on the plane. Almost as if she wanted to be naked in front of him just to see what his response would be. A challenge ...

He was so arrogant. So insolent. Well, if he was expecting some kind of protest from her, he was out of luck. She wasn't going to give him one.

"Of course, sir," she said calmly.

Katya stepped back from him, and keeping her eyes on a point somewhere in the middle of the tanned skin of his chest, she began to unbutton the tight white blouse she wore in brisk, economical movements. Taking it off, then folding it neatly on the bed. She'd gotten rid of her shoes before her nap, so she proceeded straight on to unzipping her skirt and pushing it down, folding that neatly too and putting it on top of the blouse.

She could feel his surprise like a pulse in the air and a deep pleasure twisted inside her. Being able to surprise him shouldn't matter to her, but for some reason it did. It made her feel strong in a way that had nothing to do with physical strength or with following orders. With being a perfect soldier. Perhaps she should have questioned it, yet she didn't. It made her want to push even more.

Ignoring him, she reached behind herself to unhook her bra, slipping the straps off her shoulders, dropping the bra on top of her skirt.

Alex said nothing. But she could feel him watching her, could sense his surprise deepening into shock. It made her feel even more powerful.

Katya put her hands on her hips and pushed down her plain black underwear without hesitation. She stepped out of it, folding it as neatly as she'd folded everything else and putting it on top of the skirt. Then she turned to face him, completely naked, and looked him in the eye.

He stood there very still, the expression on his face taut. That angry glitter had faded completely from his eyes and she had the sense that he was struggling to keep himself composed and his gaze on hers, to not look down the length of her body.

That he was even trying not to was a victory she hadn't anticipated. That feeling of power spread through her, unfamiliar and unexpected. How was it that she could stand naked in front of a fully clothed man and yet be the one with the advantage? How could she be the one holding all the cards?

However that worked, she would take it.

"Do you mind if I have a shower first, sir?" she asked coolly. "I'd appreciate it if so."

"Go." The word was brusque and rough. "Have your shower. I'll be waiting in the lounge."

And this time it was he who turned away.

He who left the room without a word.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Shame and lust sat in Alex's gut. An uncomfortable, volatile mix. Years ago he'd sworn he'd never let himself feel it again, not after what had happened in his father's casino. Alex had almost drowned in humiliation back then, the shame of the rape a piece of sharp glass that kept cutting him to shreds even after he'd escaped to Gabriel's scummy apartment.

His only comfort then had been the fact that no one knew about it. But then he'd gotten the news of his father's suicide and he'd wondered if somehow Conrad had told him. And he had ...

But no. Daniel St. James couldn't have known. Because surely Conrad wouldn't have been so brazen. Whatever, it didn't stop the guilt from eating away at Alex for that too. For the way he'd run, escaping without a word. Leaving behind the father he'd loved and who'd needed him.

From then on he'd decided that if he wanted to survive the guilt and the shame, if he wanted to leave it behind forever, he'd have to end his own existence too. Not suicide, since he couldn't quite bring himself to do that, but nevertheless finding an end somehow. A way to stop being Alexander St. James, the good son, a credit to his beloved father and light of his proud mother's life. Adored older brother to his little sister.