12
FIONA
I glanced around the table,confused as to why Kade and Ronan seemed to be so stunned. Wasn’t Zeke’s background in undercover work? If so, surely it shouldn’t be unusual for him to offer to go undercover with me. Obviously, it wasn’t something he did at King’s Security regularly, but that was just because his role as director was more about strategy and management, right?
“Are you sure?” Ronan said after a moment. “You know we’d never ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
Zeke nodded. “I know.”
“When you came on board, you were pretty certain you never wanted to go out in the field again, and we agreed,” he continued.
I looked at Zeke, surprised. I’d had no idea about that, and as Ronan’s assistant, I was used to knowing everything about the company and its people.
“I can go on my own, or with someone from Kade’steam,” I said, not wanting him to feel pressured into anything.
But Zeke shook his head. “I’m going with you and that’s that.”
I searched his eyes, hoping to get a read on what was running through his mind, but they were impenetrable. His jaw set, and there was something steely in his expression that unnerved me. I wasn’t used to seeing him like this. He was usually the easygoing boss. The flirt. The man I was seeing now was someone else entirely.
That’s what you get when you make assumptions.
“Is this really the best idea we can come up with?” Kade asked. “Surely there’s a lower-risk alternative?”
“Sure, there is,” Zeke agreed. “But it’s also less likely to succeed.” He twisted one of the rings on his left hand. “Like I said, I bear more than a passing resemblance to Bergen Cole, and with Fiona’s help, we can close the gap so I look even more like him.”
I bit my lip. For some reason, the idea of dressing Zeke as my ex made my skin crawl. I didn’t want to do it. But I also knew that his suggestion made sense. Still…
“If Bergen is there in person, it won’t matter how similar you look,” I pointed out. “If there are two of him, it’s going to raise some red flags.”
Ronan grimaced. “That’s a good point.”
Zeke didn’t seem deterred. “So, we give me another alias, and I use that if anyone asks my name, so nobody thinks I’m actively trying to pass myself off as him, but if they happen to see me and make assumptions, then that’s a happy coincidence.”
“What about if he confronts us?” I asked. “He’ll recognize me in an instant.”
“We try to locate the Monet before he does, and have an exit plan in place in case we have to make a quick escape.”
“It’s risky,” Kade warned.
“With so little prep time and such an isolated location, any option will be risky,” Zeke said. “At least, this way, the people most at risk are the ones who choose to be there knowing the full situation and potential consequences. If we were to send one of our employees, would that really be fair to them?”
Kade scowled, but he didn’t argue. We all knew Zeke was right.
“So, it’s settled,” Ronan said. “Zeke and Fiona, you’re welcome to use our supply room to choose your outfits for tonight. Meanwhile, Kade will work on an evacuation plan.”
We agreed—albeit reluctantly, on Kade’s part—and left Ronan’s office. Zeke and I detoured past his team so he could check in on how the search for more information about the auction was going. Once he was up-to-date, we went to the supply room. My heartbeat pulsed in my ears as we entered, and when I closed the door behind us, my hands were shaking. I’d never done anything like this before. The most daring thing I’d done was pitch my work to art galleries. I’d never put my safety on the line. What if I was a terrible actress and gave us away? I’d never forgive myself if I messed up and something happened to Zeke because of it.
To distract myself, I went to a clothing rack and sifted through the options.
“For an event like this, Bergen would wear something edgy but designer,” I said, my voice wobbly. “Maybe like this.” I pulled out a slim-cut white suit and passed it to him, then searched until I found a dark blue shirt to go with it. “Try it with an open collar. No tie.”
He smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”
I ignored the jibe and scanned the selection of shoes. Most were either brown or black, but there was a pair ofnavy shoes made of buttery leather that would complement the look well. I placed them on the floor by Zeke’s feet. “Those too.”
He shucked off his leather jacket and grabbed the hem of his shirt.
“Whoa!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing?”
