Fire burns in my belly as I think about his irresistible half-smile and imagine him leaning against her, his dominant hands taking what was never his to take.
I then do a quick search for Professor Matthew Ruehlman at Columbia and find a treasure trove of accolades and articles. He’s been teaching at Columbia for the better part of a decade; his staff photo is splashed across the internet, that same half-smile and intensely dark gaze just as powerful through a screen. I blink away the memory of his hand at my elbow, begging for my contact information. I begin to think of ways to retaliate, small comments and innuendos I can use to make him comfortable enough with me to reveal something—anything—that might help implicate him. I suddenly wish I could spend more time with the women in The Society, like a bad girl’s bootcamp, to help me extract what I need before this date.
By the time my search is over it’s nearly six am—time to get ready for work before I spend all day angsting over my date tonight. And then, like he can hear my thoughts, a text message pops up on my screen from the man of the hour.
How does Chez Daniel at 8pm tonight sound? Hope you don’t mind the East Side.
I smile, texting Matt back quickly that the location sounds perfect. I even tell him I’m excited to see him and add a few exclamation points for good measure.
He replies instantly that he’s excited to see me too and that he’s going to spend the next 14 hours trying not to think of my pretty smile. Always so charming, as if men like him can’t turn it off. I toss my phone on the bed and then get ready for the day. I don’t plan to answer his last text—letting him hang is the best option. I’m slowly learning how to play the game, thanks to Aubrey: whet the appetite and leave them wanting more.
I smile as I get ready for work, thinking how nice it is to have plans for later. Even if my date is a criminal, at least he’s an alluring one. After I’m finished washing my face and getting dressed, I add a swipe of red lipstick and smile in the mirror. I feel like a femme fatale, and maybe I am. Maybe it’s just the kind of distraction I need right now.
Matthew Ruehlman is in for a surprise tonight, and maybe I am too.
By the time I walk into Chez Daniel on East 65th that evening, my feet are hurting and my eyes are aching with exhaustion from staring at a screen all day. I force a smile as the waiter informs me my companion has already arrived and requested a private table in the corner. My smile widens when I reach Matthew. He stands, placing a hand at my elbow and murmuring in my ear how beautiful I look tonight. I thank him for his thoughtfulness as I smooth the shiny black body-hugging dress over my hips.The box from Bergdorf’s arrived at my office this afternoon, and I nearly choked on my own tongue when I realized how little it leaves to the imagination. Every dip and curve of my body is revealed, but then, I suppose that’s the point.
To whet Professor Matthew Ruehlman’s appetite without ever uttering a word.
“So how was your day?” he asks as we settle into the corner booth, side by side.
“It was great, outside of the nerves that kept me distracted all day.”
“Oh?” He grins and slides closer. “Nerves about what?”
“This moment. Seeing you. You’re quite distracting.”
“Is that so?” He gives me that half-smile I’ve come to both love and hate.
“It is.” I don’t say anything else. I’m trying to play demure, like a naïve little girl he can easily control—as if his powers of seduction are already melting my defenses. My plan is to say little, smile often, and let my body language do the talking for me. I’m no expert at this, but I do know that the art of seduction requires mystery and illusion, and it’s a game I’m more than happy to play if it means taking everything from this man and leaving him jobless and destitute. Justice isn’t pretty, but I know my role, and while I did spend all day fighting my nerves in anticipation of this moment, it wasn’t because I’ve succumbed to his charms, it’s because I have a lot to accomplish tonight. Taking down a powerful man won’t be easy, but nothing worth doing is, and it will be all the more satisfying when his life unravels before his eyes.
Professor Matthew Ruehlman has no idea what’s about to hit him. He may think himself a clever Casanova, but I’m the black widow waiting in the wings.
Thirteen
Ellie
Girl! Give me all the details!
Aubrey’s text message lights up my phone just as I’m climbing into bed later that night.
I smile as I type out a reply, a simple:
Not much detail to give. He was a perfect gentleman :\
Boo!Comes her reply.
I yawn and stretch, setting my phone down on the nightstand just before the screen lights up with another notification. This time it’s an email. I navigate to my email app and frown when I find a new message in my inbox.
Elyse,
Please reply promptly with any details that may be pertinent to the situation regarding the target.
xxx K
I think over the conversation between Matt and me as we ate dinner. The date was short, ninety minutes at most, and my date talked about himself the entire time. I smiled, nodded, tried to play demure, but the conversation was mind-numbing at best. He asked no questions about me, which was for the best considering the situation, but if I had to be honest, I would say it was one of the worst dates I’ve ever been on. My reply to the email is short and sweet:
No pertinent details to share. Sorry.
