She nudged me with her elbow. “Well? What are you waiting for? Try it on.”
I stepped behind the privacy curtain and slipped out of my robe. The gold gown slid over my skin like molten metal. The sequins caught the light with every movement, shimmering across my shoulders, hips, and down the lines of my body. When I stepped out, Marta clapped her hands.
“Oh my God,” she said. “They’re going to drop dead. All three.”
“Hopefully not tonight,” I muttered before I could stop myself.
Her smile softened. “Hey. Nervous is normal. Your men have this handled.”
I hoped she was right.
She slipped into her dress—a sleek black number with a thigh slit that made her look like she should be stepping off a private jet with sunglasses and a gun strapped to her leg. Her auburn hair framed her face in glossy waves.
“You look incredible,” I told her.
“Obviously.” She winked. “But next to you? I’m wallpaper.”
I was about to argue when someone knocked on the suite door—two firm raps, one short one, exactly Neville’s style. Ares had drilled me on those tiny security details without me even noticing it.
Marta opened the door.
Neville stood there in a charcoal tuxedo that somehow made him look sharper, colder, and more dangerous than usual. His bow tie was perfect. His cuff links gleamed. And his eyes—usually reserved, assessing—brightened noticeably when they landed on Marta.
“I’m here to take Marta to the Gala,” he said. His voice held its usual precision, but he added a small, unmistakable wink.
Marta arched a brow. “Now why would you need to escort me?”
“If you don’t mind,” Neville said smoothly, “you would be part of an undercover operation.”
She tilted her head. “Depends on where ‘undercover’ lands me. Is there danger involved?”
Neville’s mouth curved just slightly. “Possibly. You seem dangerous to me.”
Marta’s grin was slow and lethal. “Then let’s find out.”
Neville offered his arm. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow as if she’d been born for espionage.
Before they left, he leaned closer to her. “If anything feels wrong, you tell me immediately. You won’t be in danger, for real. Not on my watch.”
“Oooh,” Marta whispered as they stepped into the hall. “Protective and mysterious. Tashi, keep your door open. I may need a debrief later.”
Neville shut the door behind them with a confidence that made it clear—whatever role he’d assigned her, he trusted her to handle it.
And she trusted him to keep her safe.
The suite fell quiet.
Too quiet.
I glanced around, feeling the absence like a shift in air pressure. “Where are?—?”
The bedroom door opened.
Orion stepped out first.
I lost my breath.
He wore a classic black tuxedo—clean lines, sharp lapels, and white shirt perfectly pressed. No tie. His collar opened just enough to be both elegant and indecent. His hair was styledback, but one rebellious lock fell across his forehead in a way that made him look devastatingly human.
