She had to consider the idea that Ben was attracted to her twin more than her. It would be her luck and her eternal curse. To seem to be the sunny, bright one, and to always be relegated to her sister’s shadow.
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied.
“I think our secondary is on the edge of the ballroom,” Lou said in her ear, and there was no small amount of sympathy in her tone. Probably because Lou had heard the longing in those dismissive words. Lou was smart about tech, but she was no dummy when it came to emotional intelligence either. “Did I mention how gorgeous you look tonight?”
She felt a ghost of a smile cross her face. “Thanks. I think it’s time to move.”
Ben started to maneuver her toward the edge of the dance floor. “That’s him. I recognize him from the reports. He works directly for Huisman. And he’s nervous. His hand is in his pocket. I think that dumbass is playing with the thumb drive.”
Sure enough, there was a pasty-faced man in an ill-fitting tux openly looking for his target. Like no subtlety there.
The man approaching him wasn’t technically a spy either. Not the government kind. He worked for a multinational conglomerate, and this was apparently how Huisman liked to move information around without leaving a trail that could lead back to him.
If they were right, there was some nasty intelligence on that thumb drive. Huisman was working on some form of weaponized anthrax he’d stolen from Dare’s father’s company. They wouldn’t be able to stop his research, but at least they’d be able to see what he had.
If she could do her job.
She smiled brightly at her fake husband. “Could you get me a drink?”
Ben frowned but played his part, leaving her alone.
She watched as the exchange was made, the corporate spy sliding Huisman’s drive into his pocket.
One thing they’d learned about this man was his weakness forlovely women. The target didn’t see women as anything but servants and sluts. He was married but kept at least two mistresses around and couldn’t even stay faithful to them.
Kenzie positioned herself perfectly so the man would have to brush past her.
As he was approaching, she dropped her small handbag.
“Perfectly done,” Lou said in her ear. “He’s looking and he’s practically drooling. Careful. He’s moving in.”
She bit her bottom lip and started to bend over, but there he was, leaning down to grip her tiny bag.
“Here you go,” he said with what she was sure he thought was a charming smile. He was roughly her height, and he wasn’t looking at her face.
Well, there was a reason the girls were on generous display. She gave him a smile and reached for the bag, her hand lingering one second too long. “Thanks. I was worried about bending over. I guess my dress is on the tight side.”
“Your dress is perfect.” He was taking in every inch of her, and it was clear he liked what he saw. “Like the rest of you.”
“The car that’s supposed to pick him up is incoming. You don’t have much time,” Lou warned. “Also, I’ve got a great camera angle on Ben, and let’s have a long talk with him about resting murder face because that’s what he has right now. Luckily that dude only has eyes for your boobs.”
She didn’t want to make anything of it. Ben had a murdery vibe to him a lot of the time. It was one of the things she found most attractive about him. He was all dangerous and seriously fucked up, so she could fix him with her love. Had she at times seen herself in a pretty sundress on a farm her family had never owned running toward her father with the wind in her hair screamingbut daddy I love himas a Taylor Swift song surged in the background?
Yes. Yes, she had.
“Thanks.” She gave the target a soft smile and then a little frown. “I wish my husband thought so.”
There were times when she wouldn’t mention another man’s claim on her, but she rather thought this one would view it as a challenge. A man’s ego and libido were the smart spy’s keys to the kingdom.
“Your husband’s an idiot.” He glanced around. “Where is he?”
“Reel him in, sister,” Lou encouraged.
She shrugged and let the hint of tears pierce her eyes. It was easy. When she needed to cry she thought about her dog and that someday she would lose Bud Two the way she’d lost Bud One and… Nope. Only a hint of tears. She didn’t do dripping wet sobs. That would defeat the point. Men wanted her to cry pretty, not see her soul. Even Ben. “I think he’s talking to someone on the gala team. A woman. He didn’t even dance with me.”
A brow rose, and she saw the calculation in his eyes. “Well, why don’t I step in for him and then maybe I’ll whisk you away? Wouldn’t that teach him a lesson?”
Yeah, that was a way to get herself raped, but he didn’t have to know that she could kill him fifteen different ways. Instead, she smiled tremulously and took his hand.
