Treasured Claim (Excerpt), Mythos Legacy Book One

Chapter Four: Part One

Alex thrust Elaina away once they reached the privacy of his office. Any other woman might have stumbled in those heels, but not her. No, as he somehow knew she would, she easily kept her balance, despite the uneven edge of the area rug over the hardwood floor. Then she swiveled toward him, slow and deliberate, as though flaunting the evidence of her crime.

His security guards stopped mid-stride and gave him a double take, no doubt surprised by his brutish behavior. He didn't give a damn about his father's influence or his public image right now. This thief was worse than all the gold-diggers in the ballroom added together.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He jabbed toward the necklace brazenly hanging around her neck, where her skin once again shimmered with iridescence. "Did you think you'd be able to walk out of here with it?"

Her eyes narrowed, taking in the two guards, and then she considered him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wyatt. There must be a misunderstanding. Walk out with what?"

"That necklace. The one belonging to Mrs. Boyce. The one you're wearing now that you didn't have on before."

She flinched, and her fingers splayed over her collarbone, as though attempting to hide the jewelry. "I'm wearing a necklace?"

Her irrational question sharpened his need to do...

Something to her.

His security manager entered the room before anything regrettable happened. The two other guards spread out between his desk and the door, covering the various angles. Alex forced his shoulders to relax.

"Baxter, call the police for Ms. Elaina Drake, if that's even her real name, and reclaim that necklace."

Baxter turned to her, then Alex, and then back to her. His brows pulled low, even though the situation didn't warrant that level of confusion.

She openly sized up the man and gave him an innocent smile. "I'm sorry, Baxter, is it? Mr. Wyatt seems to be under the impression that I'm in possession of a necklace." She raised her hands and slowly twirled in her form-hugging dress. "However, I clearly don't have any place to hide something like that." She opened her palms. "I don't even have a purse."

Alex's jaw slackened at her gall.

One corner of her lips twitched up into a teasing curve. "Unless this is all an elaborate setup for a strip search."

"What the hell do you mean by tha—?"

Shouts cut off his exclamation, and Alex found his biceps grasped from behind. He'd apparently stormed closer to the maddening woman without realizing it.

He whirled on his captor. "Get your hands off me."

Baxter paled and released him. "Sorry, sir, I was trying to protect you from trouble."

"Your job is to get that necklace." He scanned her from head to toe. "And that bracelet and those earrings she didn't have on before while you're at it."

Elaina ignored him and kept her attention on Baxter. "How much abuse am I to tolerate from this man simply because he's rich? Earlier, I made it clear to him that I wasn't interested in his company, yet he continues to find reasons to harass me."

Harass her? The word normally would have stopped him cold, but confronting a thief was not harassment.

"I'm sorry, ma'am." Baxter held up his hands. "This is a terrible mistake. I take full responsibility. I'd spoken to Mr. Wyatt about you a few moments ago, and he must have misinterpreted my concerns. You're free to go, of course."

"The hell she is." Alex seized her arm. "You're all blind."

He yanked at the necklace, but couldn't get a grip on the pendant, as though it was an illusion. What the—? Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

She wrenched his hand away from her neck. Hard.

"Do you enjoy having restraining orders filed against you? This won't help your reputation, Lex." At her emphasis of the name, she gave him an alluring look through her lashes.

A shiver coursed through him, and his body clenched, wanting to take her on his desk this second. Damn his raging hormones to hell. How was the woman messing with his control like this?

If he couldn't trust his control, he couldn't trust himself, much less his eyes. She'd already made him think she was more beautiful than she really was, with the hair and the skin and everything. And now she'd deceived him into seeing non-existent jewelry to make him look like a fool. If he didn't know better, he'd say she'd bewitched him.

Not that he believed in witches. But if she'd created the problem, she could undo it.

Before he could state his demand, she had the audacity to address his security manager. "Baxter, maybe you should see if someone tampered with Mr. Wyatt's food or medication. Surely he's not always like this." She placed a wrist on his forehead, as though checking his temperature—which was quickly rising—and gave him a wink. "Unless, of course, we need to add an addiction to hallucinogenic drugs to your list of faults."

The teasing statement rang in his ears. It didn't matter that it was as false this time as it had been years before. No one accused him of that. Not anymore.