Jordan meets my gaze, first in the reflection, then directly. Her face eases, but not enough to make this comfortable. “You are exactly who you say you are. All the time. Without a single leak around the edges. It’s almost impressive.”
Her accurate assessment needles me, and I don’t respond.
I never found much use in pretending. You show your intent, or you hide, but you don’t swing between the two. Forget about shades of gray. They don’t exist for me.
Just the hunt and the kill.
But Jordan’s mastered oscillation.
I can’t deny the pride in my chest as I observe the way she navigates this strange world.
“I know about masks.” She turns back to the glass. “And you’re going to need one to get past the front door. Inside, you’ll need to maintain your persona, or you’ll get caught and tossed. If you fight the tossing, they’ll bring in an army of personal security that trains with Seals and Rangers. And that will keep us from getting what you need.”
Though I’m sure I could handle that, and while I’ve always wanted to test myself against those guys, this party is too important to get swept up in some fun. I flex my arms in the wool jacket. “I’ll behave.”
Jordan’s lips twitch. “I’ll keep my mother occupied until we can sneak away and get to the safe. Just remember, if you don’t blend in, you get thrown out.” Her eyes catch mine in the mirror, their softness replaced by stone. “And I really don’t want blood on my mother’s Persian rugs.”
I keep quiet while my mind runs double-time. Jordan discusses clothes like they’re equipment. Like wool and hand-stitching matter more than firepower. It’s insanity.
But she’s also not wrong.
The tailor mumbles about my shoulders again, and I bury the urge to slap his hands away.
With every adjustment, I give up another inch of control.
“You’re good at what you do.” Jordan smooths her eyebrow. “But you’re very direct. My mother’s universe is all about misdirection. Codes nobody writes down. Rules nobody repeats.”
She’s managed to map my faults, impressing the hell out of me. Damn her. “Sounds like a language I don’t speak.”
She glances at me, almost approving. “Exactly. You don’t have to be fluent. You just have to be convincing for one night.”
Reality closes in. I prefer clean boundaries. Lines marked in stone. Here, everything is blurred lines and implication, decisions made with secrets and handshakes.
I don’t belong. I know that. I’m completely out of my element.
To win, I need to let her run the show. Not an easy task for a control freak.
“Stand still, please.” The pins muffle G’s voice.
I lock my jaw and hold my position, letting him prod me into a softer, more tamable life. I can feel the old anger, the one that’s powered every decision I’ve ever made, banging at the gates. “Can’t I just go in as your bodyguard?”
“Then you’re in the staff building with the drivers. No access.” Jordan leans in so her shoulder brushes mine. The whisper of contact anchors me, providing the tiniest lifeline.
She lifts her hand and skims her knuckles over my jaw, tracing over the stubble. I flinch at the touch, not used to the casual gentleness.
“You need a shave. Maybe a trim?” She tips her eyes toward my hair for a beat longer than necessary. “Just a little.”
G, sensing his moment, jumps in. “We have an excellent barber on site, sir. Very discreet.”
A vise squeezes my lungs. I want to say no, yank the reins back, and seize control again. Before I panic, Jordan’s guileless eyes trap mine in the mirror. The open belief shining in them eases a little of the tightness in my chest, allowing me to breathe again. She’s handing me the keys to her old prison, willing to walk those halls again to help me. I just need to return some of that faith and trust her directions.
My lungs inflate. Deflate. I can suffer through a haircut. “Fine.”
Whatever it takes. That’s the bargain. Get inside the estate, locate the safe, and retrieve what Roman wants. And stay alive. Both of us.
As Jordan nods with one sharp dip of her chin, lust streaks through my veins.
She’s so unbelievably sexy when she’s sure of herself.
