I cleared my throat. “Not necessary. That dress is doing all the work for you.”
She hid a tiny smile behind her scotch glass, red lips fractured in tinkling ice cubes.
“I know you have an end game here. You already made it clear you weren’t explaining yourself but a clue as to what I can do would help. The faster you can pass go and collect your two bills, the faster I can quit being your dress-up doll.”
“Eloquent.”
She glared by way of a wink. We might make it through the night after all. I spotted a man skirting the crowd, headed my way. He was a little further down my to do list. I snatched her drink, guzzled it back, and took her hand. In two seconds, I held her close on the dance floor. We were already in our first turn before her affronted declarations began.
“I was drinking that. And your instructions said nothing about dancing.” But she didn’t pull away.
I kept scanning the crowd for three faces. One already tried to get to me. Now I needed the other two equally excited.
“So, we’re dancing. Should you look like you’re on a death march?”
I focused down at her again.
She shook her head. “Any other man and I might be offended. But I’m starting to think this scowl is just your face.”
“I told you…”
“You’re here for a reason. I get it, but unless you look like you’re enjoying my company people will assume you don’t. And then what the fuck is the point?” She pitched the last part low. Not because she feared others hearing but I assume out of annoyance.
I focused on the woman in my arms. So small, fragile. I could crush her, and yet my hands felt granite underneath her soft pretty exterior. I could crush her, but she’d ruin me in the process.
“You seem to think you know everything. What do you think I should be doing here?”
I wasn’t taking advice from a woman in captivity, but I was curious what paraded through her calculating mind.
“Oh, the decorations are allowed to have opinions now?”
What a mouthy…
I reached down and swatted her ass. She jumped toward me, melding our bodies but didn’t make as sound. It took a minute but she returned her gaze to mine. Anger, and a twinge of something else, something which lit a spark in me, her gaze the flint to my steel.
“Touch my ass again and you’ll wake up in your pretty little house with your balls in a bag.”
I gave her a chuckle, telling her what I thought of that threat. “Did you have an opinion or not?”
She shifted in my grip replacing the distance between us from before. “I assume you have a target in mind.”
I didn’t confirm or deny. She continued. “If I were you, I’d single my targets out, wine and dine them. Make them feel special. I’d also rethink the window panels in this room.”
I wanted to smack her ass again in punishment for her sass, but I kept my free hand on the small of her back. Was it punishment I craved, or that look in her eye?
We lapsed into silence and I took the time to study her. She stared off into the crowd. Most of them only here for the access, or the money, or maybe the prestige of an event like this with such a limited guest list. Mostly politicians, police, the very people who would step on my head to cross the street if they knew my real identity. Her included. I couldn’t forget it.
Or what I had planned for their lives in the near future.
The song ended and I let her go with an internal sigh. She fit so perfectly in my arms. She always had.
“Let’s get a drink.” I led her toward the bar where Captain Villefort leaned against the polished granite. Smart man, everyone returns here eventually.
I stopped and slid into a mask she hadn’t seen yet. Smiles, dimples, and charm. “Villefort, glad to see you were able to make it. I’ve been waiting to talk to you about your bid for Chief of Police.”
The older man, still fit but mostly gray now, straightened his suit jacket when he caught sight of Mercedes clutching my hand.
I stared between them in mock surprise. “Do you two know each other?”
