Carolina tilted her chin up, her lips curving into a slow, wicked smile. If Samuel thought she would back down, he was wrong. She had played the good girl long enough.
She took another slow step closer, invading his space, letting the tension thicken between them. Her voice dropped to a whisper, soft and tempting.
"Does it bother you?" she asked, her eyes flicking up to meet his.
Samuel's smirk didn't fade, but his grip on the railing tightened—just slightly. "What exactly?"
"That I'm not afraid of you," she said, tilting her head. "That I'm standing here, looking you in the eyes, daring you to break first."
Something dark flickered in his gaze. Amusement? Interest? A warning? She didn't care. She needed to get under his skin, make him slip, make him talk.
Samuel exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You're playing a dangerous game, Carolina."
She reached out—just for a second—and brushed her fingers against his wrist. A barely-there touch. Enough to make him still. Enough to make him notice.
"Maybe I like danger," she whispered.
Samuel's jaw clenched. He was resisting. But Carolina knew men like him. Knew the way their pride worked. If he thought she was a weak little trophy wife, he was about to be very, very mistaken.
She leaned in, just a fraction more, her breath warm against his skin. "Tell me, Samuel…" Her voice was barely above a whisper now. "What is Alexander hiding?"
His smirk faltered. A crack. A moment of hesitation.
Bingo.
Samuel's gaze flickered to her lips for half a second—half a second too long.
Then—
A sharp voice cut through the night air.
"Carolina."
She stiffened. The air shifted.
Slowly, she turned.
Alexander stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.
But his eyes?
They burned.