Page 45 of Pretty Little Assassin

I purposefully step backward, letting my body press up against his.

“Then how do you explain this?” I ask, feeling his hardened cock against the back of my dress.

His breath catches for a moment.

“I said it was the synthetics that don’t work on me,” he says through a single ragged breath.

I step away and head straight back to the dressing room to peel off the cocktail dress and heels.

When I come back out to the register, Viktor has already paid for the dress, and the saleswoman is handing him the receipt.

“You didn’t need to do that,” I grumble as we leave the boutique and head to Donnie’s so we can keep planning in the short time we have left. “I don’t like owing anyone anything. I was going to buy the dress myself.”

“Too late for that, Valentina.”

“No, it’s not. I’ll just give you the money.”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s not the cost of the dress that you owe me for; it’s what you did to me in that shop.”

I whip my face around to look at him, and there it is again.

That fucking smile.

If the Valentine’s Day gala doesn’t kill me, Viktor fucking Petrov just might.

“Is this tech cave ever clean?”

Donnie looks up at Viktor as we walk in. The question offends him right away.

“It’s not a cave, it’s a den. The distinction matters.”

“I don’t see how.”

“Can you two stop bickering for two minutes so we can get shit done?” Zero hands me another cat sweater. I didn’t choose violence; violence chose me.

Mr. Pickles ought to like that one. It suits him.

Two steps into the room and Zero is already fitting me with new tactical gear. Right after she gave me the cat sweater. Priorities.

“I already have a comm wire. I don’t need another holster for Mercy. And I also already have⁠—”

“Hush,” she interrupts before I finish my verbal inventory. “I already know half the shit you have. But let’s make sure you have all the most up-to-date shit for this job. I have a new, even smaller strap for Mercy on your thigh. You’ll be in a tiny cocktail dress, and your stepfather is more cunning than the alphas you usually deal with. He’ll be expecting a wire. Try these and tell me what you think”

“Can I come too?” Alley Cat asks from the corner of the room where she’s simultaneously fluffing her tutu and sticking a red pin into the photo of an alpha on the target corkboard. “I want to come to the gala and help.”

“No.”

The reply is unanimous.

Only Viktor doesn’t say anything. He’s too busy staring at all of us through narrowed eyes, with one eyebrow lifted.

“I’m coming anyway.”

“Mumble about it all you want; you’re not coming.” Zero’s dismissive tone has no effect on Alley Cat. She keeps pushing the red pin into the cork tighter until it breaks.

“Alright, so here is the new wire, and I’ve got all the surveillance equipment feeding into it. Constant comms. No interruptions. No chance for a hack. You won’t be going in there alone, Valentina.”

“Thanks, Donnie. But we both know I can handle myself either way.”