Got You: The Billionaire's Little Liar

Alya walked from the doorway toward the center of the room. Her flat shoes made absolutely no sound on the thick, imported rug.

She reached the large marble coffee table in the middle of the lounge. She bent her knees slightly and placed the heavy silver tray onto the cold stone surface. She didn't look at the wine. Her eyes were locked onto the broad back of the man standing by the window.

He wore a dark suit. Even from a distance, Alya could tell the fabric was custom-spun wool, tailored perfectly to his wide shoulders and narrow waist. He held a heavy crystal glass, pouring amber liquid from a decanter.

Alya's mind raced. She replayed the information Kenzie had given her over the phone. Brenton Trevino-Duncan. A useless playboy from a branch family. He had been exiled to Miami but was in New York for the weekend. Kenzie said he was an idiot who thought with his lower half and loved aggressive women.

Alya took a slow breath. Her chest rose and fell. She reached up to the collar of her stolen waiter's vest. Her fingers found the top button. She unfastened it. Then the second. She pulled the fabric apart slightly, exposing the delicate black lace edge of her expensive silk camisole underneath.

She cleared her throat.

"Mr. Trevino-Duncan," Alya said. She pitched her voice low, making it sound sweet and thick with suggestion.

The man's hand stopped moving. The amber liquid stopped flowing into the glass. He stood perfectly still, but he did not turn around.

Alya frowned slightly. She thought he was playing hard to get. She let go of the vest. She walked around the edge of the leather sofa, closing the distance between them. She stopped just a few feet to his right side.

The man turned slowly. He held the whiskey glass in his right hand. He looked down at her.

Alya tilted her head up. The moment she saw his face, her heart slammed against her ribs and skipped a beat.

He was devastatingly handsome, but his features were sharp, cut like cold marble. His jawline was rigid. His eyes were a dark, endless black. They held no warmth, no lust, no amusement. They were the eyes of a predator looking at a very small, very stupid animal. The sheer physical presence of the man radiated a crushing, suffocating pressure.

Alya felt a cold sweat break out on the back of her neck. A thought flashed through her mind: How could a useless Miami playboy have eyes that terrifying?

But the thought vanished as quickly as it came. She looked at his perfect face and the expensive cut of his suit. She told herself it didn't matter. He was just a man. She could play this game. If she had to sleep with him to get the European silk contract, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

Alya forced a bright, confident smile onto her lips.

"I know who you are," Alya said directly. "And I know what you control. I want the exclusive rights to the European vintage silk supply. I want to buy it."

Dominick narrowed his dark eyes. He stared at the woman standing in front of him. He didn't blink. He didn't speak a single word. He just watched her, his expression completely blank.

Alya waited for a response. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. She assumed he was waiting for her to offer the 'extra' payment Kenzie had warned her about.

She took a bold step forward. She crossed the invisible line of personal space, bringing her body dangerously close to his. She could smell his cologne now-a sharp, cold scent of cedar and expensive tobacco.

She lifted her right hand. Her slender fingers reached out and gently rested against the knot of his dark silk tie.

Dominick looked down. He stared at her pale hand resting against his chest. His eyes were dead, devoid of any human emotion. He looked at her hand as if it were a disease he was about to cut off.

Alya felt a chill run down her spine under his gaze, but she ignored it. She slowly dragged her fingertips up the smooth silk of his tie, stopping just below his collar.

She rose onto her tiptoes. She leaned in, bringing her lips inches from his ear.

"I can pay the market price," Alya whispered, her breath warm against his skin. "And I can offer you... anything else you might want. Any price."

Dominick's lips twitched. A slow, cruel smile formed on his mouth. It didn't reach his eyes.

"Are you sure about that?" Dominick asked. His voice was a low, rough gravel that vibrated in his chest.

Alya heard the deep, sensual tone of his voice. The tips of her ears flushed hot. She didn't hesitate. She nodded her head.

She pressed her chest lightly against his solid, muscular torso. She tilted her head back, offering her neck, trying to use every ounce of her physical charm to secure the deal.

Dominick's fingers tightened around the crystal whiskey glass. His knuckles turned stark white under the skin.

Suddenly, he moved. He slammed the heavy glass down onto the marble windowsill. The sharp crack of crystal hitting stone echoed like a gunshot in the quiet room.

Alya flinched. Her eyelashes fluttered, startled by the sudden violence of the sound. But she kept her hands on his chest, maintaining her seductive pose.

Dominick raised his left hand. His long, strong fingers hovered in the air near her face.

Alya closed her eyes. Her lips parted slightly in a smile. She thought he was going to touch her cheek. She thought she had won.

The touch never came to her face.

Instead, Dominick's hand shot down like a striking snake. His large fingers wrapped around her slender wrist, locking onto her bones with the crushing force of a steel trap.