FEBRUARY 1991
Adam watched Mercedes from across a crowded room.
He’d found her at the country club ballroom, mindlessly chattering with wealthy gang wives, each looking more high-pitched and screechy than the last. Their faces endowed with so much plastic surgery, it was as if they’d been whiplashed.
For a random Tuesday evening the country club was surprisingly full, so it’d been harder to catch her attention than he first thought.
Adam stood in the arch of the service corridor, disguising himself as best he could, but putting him in her line of sight. Before she could sit down, she finally locked eyes with him, and he inclined his head in signal.
He saw her raise her finger to her friends, a universally recognized gesture as the polite signal forfuck off... Or maybe it was justgive me a moment.
When she made her way deep into the service corridors, Adam pushed through the bustle of waiters carrying trays and clasped her wrist to pull her aside.
She flicked his hand off of her. “What do you want?” It seemed she was in no mood for small talk.
“I just wanted to apologize,” Adam said.
“Oh.” She relaxed her body but not her face, keeping her chin high.
“For the fight. I don’t want to fight,” he said.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You need to go. Before someone sees you.”
Over her shoulder Adam spotted one of Mercedes’s dinner guests rounding the corner and heading right toward them, eyes slitted with suspicion like she was searching for something.Probably for Mercedes tangled up in her ex-boyfriend’s arms. Wouldn’t that be delightful.
“First–” He grabbed her arm, pushing her with him into a supply closet just as the dinner friend rounded the corner.
He pressed her up against the wall and shielded her with his body, focusing his sight on the hallway but purposefully, and a little deviously, making sure every part of him connected with every part of her.
The guest hadn’t spotted them, only searching the hallway briefly before disappearing as quickly as she came.
Mercedes shoved Adam away, carefully stepping over brooms, mops, and buckets in the supply closet as he tripped backward. “Always an agenda with you.”
“What? I was just saving you.”
“Pretty sure I warned you not to do that on more than one occasion.” She brushed down the ruffles in her dress.
“Being close to me doesn’t suck, though, does it?” he said. “You love it.”
“Really,” she smirked, advancing on him and forcing him back against the adjacent wall. “I’m the one who loves it?”
She spread her hands across his chest and licked her top lip, her face close enough to his to feel her breath. The look in her eyes was wild and lustful, his one of absolute weakness. And he wantedmore.
Panting out some nonsensical words and becoming suddenly weak, Adam decided against averting his gaze, despite the swelling in his pants. She must’ve felt it, though, because she pulled away with a victorious smile, like the excited little traitor in his pants had proven her point. But her eyes caught on the bruises on his face for a second too long.
“You know, one of Dorian’s yachts caught on fire earlier today.” She raised her brow.
“I heard,” he said, cockily running his hands through his hair.
“He lost a lot of product. He’s very upset. It’s dangerously… unattractive.”
Adam shrugged. “So having second thoughts?”
“I thought you were only going out there to do recon? Not blow up his favorite yacht.”
How did she know they were only there to do recon? She hadn’t tagged along.
“Paul told you.” Adam realized and folded his arms, feeling smug. “Can’t help but check up on me, can you, baby?”
