He said no one else came close.That every woman after me had been measured against something I never agreed to become.The logic of longing is cruel—comparison dressed up as devotion.
“Brie?Is something wrong?”
I blink, breaking our locked gaze, as it hits me that I zoned out, pulling away, and forgetting the assignment.
There’s no professional need to withdraw.The private group I work for touts work-life balance—unlike the CIA, there’s no demand that I sever ties.Not that I had many to sever this time around.Unlike when I gave up my world for a job.
He leans closer, concerned…and, if I’m honest, insistent.There’s no doubt, if I got up and made my excuses, disappeared—which I’m trained and skilled at doing—he’d find me.Comfort settles over that certainty, blunting the edge.
Watching emotion ripple across his features—unguarded, uncalculated—I feel the ache of my own defenses.I’m tired of living behind reinforced glass, watching life happen on the other side.Tired of giving everything to my goals, or worse, someone else’s.That’s why I left the CIA.It wasn’t just that I questioned the leadership.While that definitely factored into the decision, I want more from life.
“Why don’t we go back to my place?”My hand finds his wrist—steadying myself on him as much as choosing him.
He answers with a searing kiss, the kind that eradicates fear, panic, even thought.
After the kiss, his thumb swipes my lips, and he springs to action.His grip is firm, not possessive—urgency wrapped in care.He steers me through corridors washed in amber light, the kind that flatters sin and secrets alike.The golden glow soothes, even as our steps quicken, fully aware others will see us exiting together, but he’s not keeping me a secret.We will be seen.Let them.He isn’t hiding me; I’m done hiding from myself.
If Eddie bothers with viewing the footage to learn where Adrien and I got off to, he may raise an eyebrow that he didn’t take me upstairs to a room, but he’s just as likely to assume Adrien’s plan is to take me in the back of his limousine.Chances are Eddie doesn’t care what his boss does.After all, he’s not suspicious, yet.Let him catalogue exits and angles.He’ll misread what matters.
We exit the building on the side, cross the street, hands linked, and as if by magic, a car pulls up to the curb and Adrien opens the back passenger door.
“How’d you do that?”
“I messaged in the restaurant.You were so lost in your head you didn’t notice.”
“You knew I’d invite you back to my place?”The idea that I’m so transparent to this man… Almost no one reads me correctly.I don’t even think I knew I was going to invite him into my home.
“No.”He sits in the car beside me, closing the door.“I knew I needed to get you out of there.My place or yours, the location—immaterial.”He waits, watching my face, like he’ll change course if I ask.I place my hand over his in answer.
His fingers lace with mine; heat coils low when our thighs align.
He presses a button and the divider between us and the driver rises.The quiet that follows is decadent.The low purr of the engine fills the space, and the city’s neon staccato paints his face in pulses of blue and gold.For a moment, I let the world blur and listen—to the heartbeat that might be his or mine, synced like a metronome set to something wickedly slow.
“Is this your personal car?”
“One of the clubs.They’re on call for members.”
“So any member could take a ride in one of these cars?”
“We have membership tiers.Only the highest level has unlimited, on-demand access to private transportation in city centers.”
“And there’s a divider?”
“Do you honestly care if all of our limousines have dividers?”
His sharp eyes take me in, calling me out for what I am often guilty of, which is staying on task.
The driver turns onto the avenue, and we seem to be in time with intersection lights, our speed fast enough that the storefront lights blur into multi-colored streaks.
“Do you check them?Regularly?”If I were building a honey trap, this is where I’d tuck the wire.
It seems to me that the back of a limousine, especially one with no direct connection to the occupants, would be as good a place as any to have private, discreet conversations, and a valuable resource should someone care to monitor.
His muscles stiffen, and his head shifts an infinitesimal amount, such a small degree of motion I might’ve overlooked it unless in close proximity.
He sinks back against the cushion, his gaze flicking to the blur of lights, and now it’s my turn to watch as awareness washes over him and his thoughts scatter through implications.For a heartbeat the city fades.Only his thumb tracing the back of my hand, the air thick with things we haven’t said.
We ride together wordlessly up the avenue until the driver slows in front of my building.Our shoes click against the aged marble, sloped in the center, grooves worn by other lives, other choices.I push the key into the lock, first the deadbolt, then the bottom lock, scanning the perimeter for signs of intrusion, a habit that shall probably never die.
