Well,shit. This is no good. Nix is eyeing me like a hungry wolf that just found its next meal. And I’ve never felt so naked in my life.
I want to turn and run. Without a disguise to make me into Eva, Raine, Laura, or one of my other many identities, I don’t know what to say to him. Even though I knew one of my work contacts could see me like this, I wasn’t prepared for it. And of all people, itwouldhave to be the man who already seems to be able to see right through me.
“You shopping for a dress, Nix?” I ask, my tone casual but my heart racing as I continue looking through a rack of dresses.
“You look better without the wig.”
He bypasses my question smoothly. I pause my dress perusal and meet his dark, steely eyes.
“Thanks,” I say crisply. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have shopping to do.”
Nix follows me to the next rack of dresses. “No need to buy anything new to impress your sugar daddy with. I hear he’s back in Dubai on business.”
“Do you mean Hassan?” I ask, my tone unconcerned. Inside, I feel a flare of annoyance that Nix knew that and I didn’t.
He hums with amusement. “How many sugar daddies do you have, Eva?”
I narrow my eyes in a glare. “I don’t need a sugar daddy, Nix. Don’t be so backward that you assume all attractive women want a man to pay their bills. I pay my own.”
“And what did you say you do for a living, again?”
“I didn’t.”
He’s a few feet away, but Nix’s presence still feels so warm and close that I want to duck my face and run.
“Kennedy.” The sound of my actual name makes me curl up and die inside. “How about this one?”
I turn to my friend Amara, whom I stupidly agreed to come shopping with today. So very fucking stupidly.
“I like it,” I say, smiling weakly at the short, long-sleeved black dress she’s holding up.
Amara looks back and forth between Nix and me and retreats to a rack out of earshot, obviously feeling like she interrupted something.
Just me blowing my cover to the most elusive cyberthief in the world. Nothing to see here.
“Kennedy.” Nix’s deep voice sounds rich with the satisfaction of knowing my real name. “I’m learning a lot about you today.”
“And I’m learning I was right about you being an asshole. Now if you don’t mind, I’m shopping here.”
“I won’t tell Hassan your real name. And I also won’t tell him how stunning you are without all that shit on your eyes.”
I shrug. “Wouldn’t you assume my sugar daddy has seen me without makeup, Nix?”
“Has he?”
“Ask him.”
“I’m asking you.”
I can tell from his impatient tone that he’s used to getting answers when he asks questions.
“Nix!” a woman’s excited voice calls out. “How much do you love this one?”
A thin, beautiful young woman is rushing toward him. She spins to show off the tight, sleeveless pink-sequined gown she’s wearing.
I feel two things at the same time—a slight twinge of jealousy, and disgust that I’m shopping at a store that sells dresses like that. It’s like a how-to manual for looking trashy.
“Very nice,” Nix says, feigning interest.
