Keeping a hold of her hand, we move through the room making polite small talk with the other guests. Pausing by the couple I’m now convinced are part of the Russian contingent, I turn to another couple adjacent and ask them about their evening. While they’re talking I lean into Erin’s ear.
“I need you to listen in to the blonde’s conversation,” I say, nodding to the Russians.
She lifts a champagne flute to her lips. “Got it,” she murmurs.
I engage the couple as best I can in conversation about the weather, the forest, the drive up here, while Erin eavesdrops onthe Russians. Then I feel a sudden urge to pull her closer, so I do.
I let go of her hand, slide my palm around the small of her back and pull her into my body. She obliges without a single hesitation. And before I know it, I’m drifting my fingers over the length of her waist and the curve of her hip bone.
I don’t want to move from this spot, but the couple I’m talking to make their excuses to leave. When I don’t release Erin straight away, she looks up at me, her eyes softened by champagne.
“You’ve got some strong moves,” she says, in a sultry voice that I feel in my balls.
“I have some strong motivation,” I reply.
Her eyes widen.
“I mean… the deal. The reason we’re here.”
It’s not often I feel flustered but the way Erin is looking at me has me feeling all kinds of bothered.
The brightness across her features dims. “Oh. Right, yes. The deal.”
“You’re playing the part flawlessly,” I murmur.
“I have a good director,” she clips. “Are we done here?”
I look around the dining room. Some of the key players are still present but I need to download what Erin heard tonight and anything she may have noticed today.
“Sure.” My tone is flat as we walk hand in hand out of the dining room. We’re almost at the exit when the Russian steps out in front of us.
“Are you retiring already?”
“I’m afraid so. Early to bed, early to rise.” Instinctively, I pull Erin close. “And this one’s had a very busy day.”
Erin snuggles into my side. “I’ve been taking full advantage of the activities.” She blinks up at me. “I may have overdone it.”
The Russian laughs but there’s an undercurrent to it that makes me uneasy.
“I’ve been meaning to ask… How did the two of you meet?”
My arm tightens around Erin. Our story only goes as far back as ‘we dated in our twenties’ so I need her to let me handle this.
Unfortunately, we both speak at the same time. This is a part of our story we haven’t pre-planned. So, when Erin says, “At a coffee shop,” I say, “Through mutual friends.”
An awkward pause stretches. I tighten my grip on her waist and smile. “We remember it differently,” I say lightly. “She likes the romantic version.”
“Well,” the Russian says after a beat, a curious glint in his eye. “Goodnight. See you in the morning.”
I press a hand to Erin’s back and guide her through the exit to the corridor that leads upstairs to our suite.
I’m vibrating with tension.
I can’t afford for anyone, least of all the Russian, to see through our story.
Turning my head slightly to the right, I catch movement in the far corner of my eye. It’s him, and us, in a long, quiet corridor. As far as he knows, we think we’re alone.
Gripping Erin by the shoulders, I shove her back against the wall, a small squeal slipping from her lips.
