Page 170 of Vicious Temptation

Grey’s voice makes my shoulders stiffen. I don’t like the way he says it. Maybe it’s because he once tried to hit on Remi and resorted to insults when she told him exactly where he could shove his ego. Or maybe it’s because Grey has always wanted Elena’s approval more than he’s wanted oxygen. The man is ambitious to a fault, desperate even, and lately I’ve started wondering how far he’d go to stay in her good graces.

What grabs my attention most is why he’d call Remi my girl in the first place. I’ve never spoken about her around Grey or confided in him about my personal life. I’ve gone out of my way to keep that separate from work.

Ryan is my first guess, not intentionally, of course. He’s just never met a boundary he didn’t accidentally bulldoze with good intentions. The man sees the best in everyone, even when common sense tells him not to, and believes those around him share his intentions.

In my experience, that’s a dangerous assumption.

“I’m here alone,” I say, not bothering to refute his claim.

I finally turn to look at Grey.

Like most of the men attending tonight, he’s wearing a black tuxedo. Mine isn’t much different, aside from the Batman mask and cape. Unlike the others, he wears a black balaclava stretched across the lower half of his face, with a white Punisher skull glaring from the fabric.

The choice feels exactly on brand.

“Well, that’s a shame.” He tugs his mask and takes a sip of his drink. “You finally feeling like yourself again? Over your little cold?”

I glance down at the whiskey in my hand and let out an unamused laugh. “Mostly.”

“Good.”

There’s no missing the tension between us, and his concern sounds just as hollow as we both know it is. In the field, we’re a team. We trust each other to do our jobs and keep everyone alive because that trust is non-negotiable.

Outside of work, things are different. Maybe it’s a personality clash, or maybe it’s because every conversation with Grey feels less like a conversation and more like a test. Whatever the reason, I’ve never trusted him enough to let my guard down, and lately, I trust him even less.

“Braga. Grey.” Elena slips between us and leans back against the bar as if she owns the place. Her dark hair is pinned into an elegant bun, and a crimson mask conceals the upper half of her face, matching the silk gown draped over her body.

Grey immediately straightens.

Before she can even ask, he’s already signaling the bartender for another drink.

“Cheers,” Elena says with a smile as she lifts the glass and taps it lightly against his.

Grey looks honored before Elena turns her attention to me.

“You’ve been so busy catching up and getting back into the groove that we’ve barely had time to chat.”

The smile on her face never wavers, and neither does the warning beneath it. I take a slow sip of my whiskey.

“As you know, work’s been busy.”

“I’m sure.”

I glance toward Grey and catch the way he watches Elena when she isn’t looking. The admiration is still there, along with the ambition I’ve seen a hundred times before, but there’s something else beneath it now, darker and almost possessive.

I’ve always assumed Grey’s fixation with Elena was entirely professional. But as I watch his gaze follow her, I start to wonder if I’ve been reading him wrong this entire time.

“Stop by my office on Monday,” she says to me. “We can catch up on your progress.”

I grit my teeth.

Every conversation with Elena leaves me aggravated and mentally drained.

I don’t respond, letting my gaze drift across the ballroom instead.

The event is in full swing. Officers, spouses, city officials, and donors fill the room as masks and costumes blend beneath crystal chandeliers. Laughter rises from nearby tables as servers weave through the crowd with trays of drinks and appetizers.

Everyone seems busy living lives that look simple and normal from the outside while I feel the walls closing in around me.