And she did it well. She even suggested an alternative payment system based on merit and oaths because assassins on the run don’t always have enough cash for the type of equipment they need, but favors in that world can be worth a lot. We’d be the only place able to supply them in that instance. It was a brilliant idea.
Still, Ryker had valid points.
Breezing through my office, I catch the illuminated city skyline and don’t bother turning the lights on. I’ll only be a minute since I plan to check in with Bernard about my upcoming arbitration meetings. Then I’ll go back to the penthouse to put Remy to bed so Mercy can join Ryker on his evening walk-through.
Stepping into my private bathroom and closet—an area I added when my siblings were little kids with sticky fingers and I’d often squeeze in lunch with them and need to change—I wash up, straighten my cuff links, and shrug my suit jacket on, forgoing the tie. It’s been a long day. I flip off the lights in the dressing area and tuck my phone away.
And when I stride back into my office, my hackles rise.
Someone’s in here.
AXEL
Plucking my pistol from my waistband, I rush past the bar, slam the intruder against the wall, and jam my gun into their neck, just as the barrel of another is wedged into my ribs.
The fragrance of poisonous cherry blossoms blankets us, and striking green eyes burn into mine.
Zara’s panting breaths cascade over me, seeping beneath my open collar. She doesn’t say a word, but her adrenaline is plainly spiked. And everything about her stance is aggressive and defensive.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I growl.
“The door was open,” she grits out, even-keeled but laced with venom.
Fisting her thick hair, I wrench her neck back until our lips are nearly touching. “So, you let yourself in and were roaming around in the dark?”
She seethes, gliding her knee up my thigh in a threat to pummel my balls. “I came for my cherries.”
“I bet you did,” flies out of me as I recall her tantalizing purrs from earlier.
Not missing my meaning, she huffs a quiet laugh as I catch the glint of the glass jar in my peripheral vision. Fuck, that might be the truth. But Ryker’s warning is still so fresh. And Zara always thinks fast.
“Drop your weapon,” I demand, forcing her legs apart with my own.
“Not a chance until you drop yours,” she sneers, digging the barrel deeper into my ribs to emphasize her stance.
It’s not the most comfortable my rib cage has ever felt, but I refuse to even grant her a wince. My veins are pumping with ire. She’s always radiant, but here, with the city lights dancing around her and her fierceness in full swing, I’m in awe. And furious that she messes with my head.
Despite that fury and my precarious position, my restraint begins to crumble, so I press against her, dragging my mouth along her exposed throat and jaw. “We’ve been over this. If I wanted to kill you, Zara, I would’ve already done it.”
Her chest heaves, rising and falling three times before she collects herself, her sweet breaths wetting my ear. “Then there is no reason for you not to drop it.”
I yank on her silky strands again, hard enough to evoke a sting, my stubble scraping her cheek and causing her to shiver. “Except that you have one jammed into my side, darling.”
A sound that is a blend of a chortle and a moan wafts from her. “I guess you’ll have to trust me,sweetheart.”
Christ, that seductive, airy rasp of hers is like a demon luring an angel out of heaven. Not that I’d ever be afforded a spot behind the pearly gates, but if I were—no matter how blissful it was—one command from Zara would have me diving into eternal damnation. Just for a fucking glimpse of the siren who had beckoned me there.
“You’re always such a goddamn brat.” There’s no disguising the lust woven into my words.
She disregards the possessive hold I have on her, a winning smile blooming on her cheeks. “And you can’t get enough. Might as well give up.”
She’s right, but lust shrouds her too. We might have loaded weapons pointed at one another, but as time stretches, it’s hard to know why we’re grappling.
We’re at a standstill so long that our heartbeats sync up, her perky breasts tease my chest, and even without allowing my lips to brush hers, she tastes of cherry lemonade. I know with utter certainty; one brief savoring would turn me into a fiend.
“Or,” I contend without a coherent thought in my head, “we could venture into the offer you made in my gym.”
“Remind me,” she purrs. Her gaze frolics all over my face, flicking to my lips, and something like hope brims in her eyes.
