The duke smiled. “I will, of course, get you access.”
“A member, are you?” Nathaniel replied with an insolent smile. He didn’t know what made him poke the duke, but the man was always so proper, so sober.
The duke’s reaction was as haughty and displeased as one could imagine. He raised his brows, and in frosty accents replied, “Don’t be impertinent. Of course not. But I have contacts who can get you an invitation.”
“So you want me to infiltrate it,” Nathaniel said.
“Both of you. Together,” the Duke said firmly. “This is a delicate operation, and we need all hands on deck. We can’t risk missing the widow. Or letting them get to her before we do.”
“Then why don’t you come?” Nathaniel riposted. He knew Alice was no wilting violet, but he still couldn’t like the thought of her in that den of iniquity. The things he had heard about that place…
“Who says I’m not? But Alice needs to be there as well. If we find the widow, a woman might reassure her and persuade her to cooperate with us.”
A beat passed. “That place is not suitable for a lady.”
Alice met his eyes. “Good thing, then, that I’m not a lady. I’m an agent, and this is part of the assignment. I’m going with you.”
“Posing as lovers?” he threw back, just to see her squirm.
Her chin came up at the challenge. “Why not? It shouldn’t be too difficult to pretend. At least we have practice in that area.”
Pretend, uh? There had never been any pretense between them in the physical aspect of their relationship. And that hadn’t changed. Had she forgotten that just a few hours ago she had been practically trembling with desire in his arms? Was she trying to deny what had passed between them in that corridor at the Russian Embassy? Until this moment, he hadn’t made up his mind about what to do with this inconvenient attraction that still burned between them, but her attempt to dismiss it nettled him into proving her wrong. It might be exactly what they needed to finally let go—to fuck each other senseless until the urge was out of their system.
“How convenient,” Nathaniel drawled, giving her a slow smile. Letting her see his desire, calling forth a similar response in her.
He had the satisfaction of seeing color rise in her cheeks, and her gaze skitter away, flustered. Pretend, his arse. She was his, and before the week was out, he would prove it. He would have her squirming under him as he sank into her hot sheath. Themere thought was enough to make his cock twitch. Clearing his throat, he crossed his legs.
“Exactly,” Dalton said, looking smug, unaware or uninterested in the undercurrents in front of him. “You two are perfect for this undertaking. I’ll have your invitations by tomorrow.”
“I believe Nathaniel and I should arrive separately.”
Like hell she would.
“And why is that?” Nathaniel inquired, hiding his instinctive reaction to contradict her.
“Because that way we can cover more territory. We can split and make sure we search everywhere.”
“You can’t arrive by yourself, Alice.” Gone was the teasing sensuality. There was steel in his tone now. “That place is a den of iniquity. You have no idea the things that go on in there…”
“And you seem overly familiar with them,” she riposted, her eyes narrowed at him.
“I’ve never been there, if that’s what you are insinuating.” Damn it all to hell, was she reproaching him? That was some gall she had, given that she was the one who had betrayed their vows, not him.
“If that is the case, you are as much a novice as I am.” Turning to Dalton, she asked, “Is it necessary for us to arrive together? Don’t you agree it would be better to split?”
Visibly losing patience, Dalton took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly. “Go together, separately, join forces once there, or split apart. I don’t give a damn how you do it, as long as you keep an eye out for the widow and the men from the embassy.”
“That settles it then. I’ll arrive on my own,” she said this with the imperiousness, the finality, of a queen issuing a dictum.
Obstinate, infuriating, reckless woman. He wanted to argue, but he had learned long ago which battles to pick.
“Suit yourself,” he replied. “I guess I’d better go find a mask.”
Her smug smile followed him out of the office. Let her think she had won this battle. He would turn the tables on her soon enough.
CHAPTER 6
Crossingthethresholdofthe imposing Soho townhouse that housed the Black Swan was like stepping through a magical portal. From the outside, the stately townhouse appeared the picture of respectability—all white marble and classical lines. The sort of stoic façade designed to reassure the neighbors. But inside, the air was thick with warm perfume and intrigue.
