Page 62 of Veiled

Once he sits down too, I grab the dossier from my bag. Opening the envelope, I pull out the documents and dump the other contents in my lap.

The words at the top of the first page hit me like a punch to the stomach.

Cover Identity: Mr. Carter and Mrs. Carter – Married Couple on Vacation.

Cover Story: Newly married, on your delayed honeymoon.

Primary Objective: Locate and recover a stolen data drive suspected to be in the possession of the couple next door, suspected Clowess conspirators, before the information crosses the border. Maintain your cover at all times.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

Aiden leans over to glance at the page, and the grimace that spreads across his face tells me he is equally unhappy with our roles as I am. “Well,” he says, voice low, “guess we’re tying the knot, Sweetheart.”

“Don’t,” I snap, slapping the folder closed. “Not one word.”

“What? Can’t pretend to be Mrs. Carter for forty-eight hours?” He asks, leaning back in his chair with that insufferable ease. “It’s just acting, and you’ll be asked to do much worse than this after graduation.”

“Ugh, I hate to admit this, but you’re not wrong.”

“That’s two.”

No, he did not!

For a second, I think he doesn’t remember saying that phrase to me a few weeks ago, but his smile as he flips through the dossier says otherwise. How can one man be so infuriating and so sexy that I almost forget everything that’s happened between us?

Distracting myself, I look through the other items in my lap.

“Looks like we’re staying at a beach house. Two-bedroom rental,” he says. Then, after a beat, his eyebrows lift. “I take it back. One bedroom. One bed.”

I stare at him, waiting for him to say he’s joking, but he doesn’t.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter again, snatching the file back. Sure enough, the words are there in bold: One-bedroom beachfront rental.

He’s trying not to laugh. Trying. And failing.

“This is some cosmic punishment for something I did in a past life,” I say under my breath.

Aiden’s smirk softens into something that almost looks like amusement. “Hey, I promise I don’t snore.”

“I’ll take the floor.”

“Not an option,” he says, tone dripping with false politeness. “We can’t go blowing our cover.”

“We’re going to be inside our house! How would anyone know?”

“Never put yourself in a position to get caught, Mrs. Carter.”

I glare at him so hard it’s a miracle he doesn’t burst into flames. “If you call me that again, I will blow our cover by killing you.”

Ignoring me, he gestures to my lap, “What else did they give us?”

“Fake IDs, the house key, a USB labeled intel.”

“Probably pictures of our targets, routines, stuff like that.” Aiden lifts a tiny, sleek envelope I hadn’t noticed. “What about this?”

“Please tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”

Aiden smirks, holding up a pair of beautiful wedding rings. “Say ‘I do,’ and we’ll make it official, Mrs. Carter.”