The Greek Billionaire's Counterfeit Bride Read Online Free Page B

for a pen. She filed away the names mentally, committing them to memory to put to faces where possible later on. Eva took one of the pens out of the cup next to the book and made sure it worked, scribbling lightly on a side sheet of paper. She smiled slightly to herself, signing the book Elizabeth D. Bennet .
     
    Eva stepped away from the table and crossed into the living room of the apartment, taking another quick breath to keep her nerves—twitching with subdued alarm—as calm as possible. After a moment of doubt, she moved towards the refreshment table; the spread was certainly in keeping with the value of the enclave: fresh seafood, elegantly prepared, blanched and chilled vegetables, and a bar manned by a crisp, white-coated bartender. “Good evening,” the man said, inclining his head towards her. “What can I make you?”
     
    “Seven and seven?” Eva smiled slightly.
     
    “Of course,” the bartender said, nodding as he began to mix the cocktail for her. Eva took a plate and snagged a few choice morsels, daintily placing them on the cool ceramic, folding a cocktail napkin onto her palm. She accepted a drink and stepped away from the table to wander slightly, taking in the beauty of the apartment. One wall was dominated by huge casement windows, leading out onto a balcony beyond which Eva saw the best view of the city she’d ever taken in. After a few moments, she turned back towards the apartment proper and moved about the living room, glancing at the expensive custom furniture, the gleaming hardwood floor mostly covered by thick, plush rugs with swirling, looping patterns. Beautiful. Completely beautiful. The upholstery on the huge couch and heavy chairs looked expensive—Eva thought it might have been damask. The wall opposite the windows boasted a huge brick fireplace with wrought iron fixtures.
     
    Eva turned her attention to the open house attendees; she considered each one of the men and women who’d come to the apartment, sizing them up. He’s cheating on her. She knows, but doesn’t care as long as he doesn’t drag the family name into the mud…he’s a hopeless bachelor type, looking for a getaway place to take women that isn’t actually his home. She’s looking for an investment property; the other woman is looking at this place to host parties at. Little details suggested a backstory, a context for each person’s presence in the apartment.
     
    Eva’s gaze came to a stop on a tall, lean man with sun-bronzed skin, wearing a sharply tailored suit. His dark hair was brushed back from his forehead, his dark eyes gleamed. He was—Eva had to admit—almost stunningly handsome. “This place is completely ideal,” the man was saying to the real estate agent standing next to the fireplace. Eva hung back a little bit, fascinated by the conversation. “I’m absolutely in love with it—the perfect place for what I have in mind,” the man continued. Eva detected a faint accent in his words, though she couldn’t quite place it. European, for sure—by his clothes and demeanor. The man seemed oddly familiar; Eva wracked her brain for a moment, attempting to place him.
     
    Turning away, she paid attention to the other prospective buyers, thinking in terms of which of the “games” she had taught herself over the years she could pull on which of the people. The straying husband would be easy: she’d set him up for blackmail after she found him on one of the hookup apps. The bachelor would be susceptible to a luxury goods scam—maybe jewelry, maybe gold. Eva carefully kept up the slowly meandering walk that would make her look like an interested potential client, leaving the living room for the kitchen, taking in the restaurant-grade appliances and polished stone countertops.
     
    God, this place is amazing, she thought, her breath almost catching in her throat at the sight of gleaming wood and polished metal. The place was so beautiful, so comfortable and soothing, that Eva couldn’t