“I mean, I can understand employees who handle government documents undergoing the security clearance process, but not everyone else,” he added.
“Trust me, if we could avoid it, we would in a heartbeat. Do you have any idea how expensive it is to run a top-secret security clearance on every potential employee?” Dr. Fitzgerald rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not cheap.”
That seemed to appease her dad a little, but he still pursed his lips.
“We really appreciate everything you’ve done for our Stas,” her mom interjected, changing the subject before her father could say anything more on the topic. He’d made his feelings on the security process known from the beginning, but Stas didn’t understand why he was making such a big deal of it. She didn’t have anything to hide.
Well, except for her persuasive problem.
And lying to the cops at Owen’s crime scene.
Okay, so she harbored a few secrets, but surely she could pass a polygraph. Right? Maybe?
She glanced at the demon who knew her darkest confidences yet remained a complete stranger to her. He raised a brow in greeting, then tilted his head toward his gorgeous date. Her lips were at his ear. Whatever she said seemed to amuse him, because his lips twitched. The familiar intimacy between them left a sour taste in Stas’s mouth, causing her stomach to churn.
This was the Issac she read about in the article—the desired bachelor. He clearly had a different woman on his arm every night.
So what does he want from me?
She forced herself to refocus on the conversation at the table. Something about Tom’s recent mission overseas where he helped deliver food and water to a group of orphaned children. She could feel her mother melting into a puddle of goo beside her, while Lizzie focused on her salad plate. The menu was always set before they arrived, a nine-course meal organized daily by the chef.
“Well, it’s good to know Stas is working for such an amazing organization,” her mother said, her cheeks flushed. “It’s hard having her so far away, I mean, but some of my worrying is eased by knowing she has a family here.”
“It’s been our pleasure, I assure you.” Dr. Fitzgerald winked at Stas.
“Of course, the whole thing with Owen has me a bit on edge.”
Stas groaned. “Oh, Mom, please don’t.”
“What? I’m concerned for your safety, Stas. Your friend was murdered.”
As if she didn’t know that. “It’s not…”
Sapphire eyes met her own over her father’s shoulder.
Oh, shit.
“Well, isn’t this a small world?” Issac said by way of greeting, his lips quirked up into a devious smile as he moved around the table to stand directly behind her, his hands settling on the back of her chair.
Lizzie started hitting Stas’s thigh. She assumed the repetitive tapping was Lizzie-code for Oh. My. God. But Stas couldn’t move. She couldn’t even breathe.
“Wakefield.” Tom’s shoulders were rigid. “Can we help you with something?”
“Oh, I’ve been helping myself just fine lately, but thank you, Thomas.” His palm slid to her shoulder, branding her bare skin and sending a jolt of electricity through her heart. “I apologize for interrupting. I only wanted to congratulate Astasiya on her graduation this morning.”
Dr. Fitzgerald raised a dark blond brow. “You two are acquainted?”
Stas wondered the same thing, but about Tom and Issac. Maybe they both attended a “Hottest Bachelors of New York” club. Her lips twitched at the thought.
“We met through a mutual acquaintance,” Issac replied. “Owen Angelton. You’ve no doubt heard of him, yes?” He brushed her pulse with his thumb in a proprietary move that heated her neck.
What are you doing? she wanted to ask.
Dr. Fitzgerald steepled his long fingers on the table, his posture relaxed. “Yes, we were just discussing that. He was supposed to be your date tonight, right, Stas?”
Thanks for the reminder. She cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah, he wanted to meet everyone.” She shook the cobwebs from her brain and tilted her head back to meet Issac’s gaze. “Thank you for the congratulations, Issac.” She used his first name on purpose and found she rather enjoyed saying it out loud.
His responding grin stole the breath from her lungs. Holy crap, a man should not possess such a smile. It could be dangerous for women with certain heart conditions.
“Of course, darling.” He squeezed her shoulder before refocusing on her parents. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. I’m Issac Wakefield.”
“Uh, right. These are my parents. Susan and Henry.” Her mother looked ready to faint under the directness of Issac’s gaze. Her father, however, seemed to be missing the guns he kept at home. Great. They were making assumptions about their relationship.
“A pleasure,” Issac murmured. “Do you mind if I steal your gorgeous daughter for a moment?”
Her eyes narrowed up at him. What game are you playing?
“Not at all,” her mom replied, her excitement palpable.
Stas fought the urge to groan.
Her mother wasn’t vain, just excited by the prospect of her daughter seeing someone. Stas’s dating history could be counted on one hand. Not for a lack of trying by the male population, but because she just didn’t date. School always took precedence.
“Astasiya?” The hand on her shoulder lifted, palm up, a gesture for her to stand.
Well, it wasn’t as if she had a choice in the matter. “Excuse me,” she said, standing without taking his hand.
“Gentlemen”—Issac’s attention shifted to the Fitzgeralds and Lizzie’s dad—“always a pleasure.”
He pressed his palm into the small of her back, burning a hole through her satin dress as he guided her through the restaurant. Stas would have a lot of explaining to do when she returned. Her leg had taken a steady beating from her best friend’s fist the entire time Issac stood behind her. The “Oh. My. God” code had changed to “What the hell is going on?” after he announced their acquaintance.
The demon escorted her into a dark corner near the elevators of the reception area. She turned right before the wall and put her hands on his sturdy chest when he would have advanced another step closer. “Thanks for that, Issac. They’re going to think we’re dating now.” Which they definitely were not ever going to do.
Warm fingers wrapped around her wrists. “I decided what I want as payment.”
Her eyebrows met her hairline. “And you had to tell me now?”
His heated gaze slid slowly over her, taking in every inch of her dress along the way. She fought a resulting shudder, not wanting to react to his nearness or the intimacy of his touch.
Why did he have to be so damn good-looking? Like a supermodel standing inches from her with his perfectly sculpted, aristocratic features.
And those damn eyes…
“You look beautiful in this dress, darling.” The accented endearment had her hackles rising.
“Yeah? Your date looks beautiful in her dress too, Issac.”
She took a step back into the wall as he advanced on her. The hands on her wrists kept her from pushing him back as he crowded her personal space. Sandalwood mingled with bourbon, a tantalizing combination.
“This is not—”
“Clara is not my date,” he interjected, his broad shoulders and substantial height cutting off her view of the restaurant’s lobby and forcing her to focus solely on him. “When did you figure out my identity?”
“This morning.”
“How?”
“Apparently, you’re one of New York’s hottest bachelors.” Her face warmed at the admission of how she discovered his name. “Lizzie likes society magazines.”
His chuckle caressed her in a way it shouldn’t, causing her to squeeze her legs together in protest. This man is fucking potent.
“Not at all how I expected, but I’ll accept it.” He stroked his thumb against her wrist. “Were you surprised?”<
br />
“Yes.”
“Good, I adore that about you. Which brings me to what I want, assuming you still wish to strike a deal with me.” More circles against her skin. Each one hot and branding and distracting.
Why did he have to be so close to her?
Every inhale drew his scent closer and every exhale felt too hot.
He came here with another woman.
Who he claims isn’t his date.
That’s irrelevant.
But he knows what you are…
She swallowed. Not only that, but he had offered to tell her. For a price.
Just this morning she chastised herself for even considering a deal, but now, well, now she wanted answers. Again.
“Will you help me find out who killed Owen?” she asked. Because she knew in her heart the authorities wouldn’t be able to solve this case, not after the way they reacted at the crime scene. They just kept muttering the word impossible and scribbling nonsense in their books.
Issac tilted his head. “You care more about Owen than your own heritage?”
“I care about both,” she clarified. “And I want answers to both.”
He released her wrists and rested his arm against the wall over her head while gazing down at her. “Demanding more from me before knowing what I require?”
She didn’t back down. “I’m giving you my terms.”
“What about mine?”
Her heart hammered in her chest at his nearness, his lips only a few inches from hers. “Name them.”
He smiled, indicating those were the words he desired to hear. “I want you, Astasiya.”
The image of him stripping off her clothes and taking her up against the wall flashed behind her eyes, making her knees go weak. That can’t be what he means. The man obviously didn’t need to trade answers for sex. “I’m not following.”
“Hmm, how to phrase it.” The hand lying at his side moved to her hip, his opposite arm still over her head, while her limbs remained limp at her sides. All her focus was on inhaling enough oxygen to keep her brain working. “I need certain individuals to believe we’re dating, and for that to work, I require your voluntary participation.”
Okay, not at all what she expected him to say. “Why the hell would you want to do that?”
“Maybe I like you.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Or maybe you have an ulterior motive.”
“Maybe it’s both.” He shifted closer, the heat from his body seeping into her skin and influencing her in dangerous ways—like encouraging her to tilt her head back as he lowered his mouth to hover over hers.
“Dating for information,” he whispered. “A simple quid pro quo situation. You help me and I’ll help you.”
“How is our pretending to date going to help you?”
The devil grinned in his gaze. “Does the why really matter when I have the answers you seek?”
Did it? She wasn’t sure. “If I agree, will you tell me what I am?”
“Hmm.” His attention drifted to her mouth, his pupils flaring. “I will after our first date.”
“Not now.”
He shook his head. “Payment first, then answers.” His palm slid up her side to wrap around the back of her neck. “Now, do we have a deal?”
For years, she’d sought an explanation for her unnatural talent. And this man—demon—was the closest she’d come to understanding her condition. He might be able to tell her how her parents died. And Owen.
All she had to do was play along.
A few dates.
Gather some intelligence about the supernatural world.
Find out what happened to her friend and her family.
All by pretending to be Issac Wakefield’s girlfriend. Not exactly a hardship. She just had to keep her emotions in check, which wouldn’t be a problem. Stas didn’t do love or relationships.
“Okay,” she agreed softly. “Dating for information. I accept.”
“Brilliant.” His fingers knotted in her hair, his thighs aligning with hers. “Just one more thing.”
She swallowed, her breathing shortening. “Which is?”
He smiled. “This.”
“Th—”
His mouth silenced hers, his tongue sliding between her parted lips with the expert ease of a man used to possessing a woman.
And fuck, he tasted divine. Like the finest bourbon, smooth and hot, and edged in age.
Her thighs clenched, her stomach tightening, his kiss dominating her in a way she’d never experienced. One swipe of his tongue and he owned her. Which shouldn’t be possible. Not when she knew the truth about him.
Not human. Not real. All a charade.
But the heat pressing into her lower belly certainly felt real. As did the way his palm tightened against her neck, holding her for his sensual assault.
He took her slow at first, thoroughly introducing her to his preferences and skill before emboldening the kiss. Each stroke embodied a mixture of warning and promise, telling her just what to expect from him between the sheets. Issac would take what he wanted, when he wanted it, however he wanted it. She had no choice but to accept him, her body succumbing to his every will.
How is it possible to feel so entirely owned from just a kiss?
He branded her.
Controlled her.
Caressed her.
And released her just as her arms encircled his neck.
His hand was still in her hair, his mouth only a breath away from hers. “Thomas.” The growled name vibrated her chest.
She blinked. Thomas?
“I’m only going to say this once.” Issac’s broad shoulders blocked her view of what sounded like a furious Tom. “Release her.”
Arousal swam in the depths of Issac’s gaze. He brushed his lips against her temple and her ear. “Consider our deal sealed.” A breath of words meant for her alone. “Is there a problem, Thomas?” he asked, louder now, as he moved to her side, his arm sliding around her lower back.
Tom, Stas thought, frowning. No one ever called him Thomas. Then again, no one called her Astasiya, either. It seemed her demon harbored a dislike of nicknames.
“Go back to the table, Stas.” The command in Tom’s tone startled her. In the six years she’d known him, he’d never spoken to her like that.
“Excuse me?” she asked, daring him to say that to her again.
“Now, Stas.”
Her eyebrows shot up. He’d gone full military officer on her, using a tone he usually reserved for work. Why the sudden protectiveness? Yes, he treated her like a sister, just like Lizzie, but whom she dated wasn’t his business.
Not really dating.
Also not the point.
As if hearing her thoughts, Issac nibbled her neck. The look Tom gave him in response screamed murderous intent. What the fuck was wrong with him?
“It’s all right, darling,” Issac murmured against her throat. “We’ll catch up properly later.”
“Like hell you will,” Tom replied.
Stas gaped at her friend, mortified and at a complete loss for what to say.
“You can stand down now, Sentinel,” Issac said, the heat of his body leaving her side. “I’ll see you soon, Astasiya.” The insinuation in his tone had her stomach clenching. His lips had seared her being, leaving her with a promise of so much more.
It’s a charade, she reminded herself. He’s just playing with you.
But that kiss had certainly felt real…
Tom glowered after her demon, his body tense, his expression darkly serious.
Stas hit his arm to grab his attention and to refocus her own. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Her fingers tingled from the punch, his biceps far too solid. She knew he worked out, but damn. He resembled a rock beneath the suit.
Tom’s dark brown gaze reminded her of molten lava as he stared down at her from his over-six-foot height. “He’s not who you think he is, Stas.”
Yeah, she already knew that. “I can take care of myself, Tom
.”
“He’s bad news,” he continued. “You can’t date him.”
Stas had never been the type to take orders well. “I’m not having this conversation with you.” His intentions might be in the right place, but he had no right to dictate her personal life.
“Yes, you are. Tell me you won’t date him.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Yes, you will.”
“Do you even hear yourself right now?” she asked. He sounded insane.
“I’m just looking out for you.”
She sighed, understanding. Issac showed up with a woman on his arm, only to end up kissing Stas outside of the restaurant. Not exactly Boyfriend of the Year material, especially in her friend’s eyes. Still, it wasn’t any of Tom’s business what she did in her personal life.
“How do you know him?” she asked, changing the subject.
His expression darkened. “Through work.”
“Wakefield Pharmaceuticals donates drugs to the CRF?”
He snorted. “Hell no. Look, he’s not a good person, Stas. Which is why you need to stay away from him.”
And back to the original topic. “I make my own decisions, Tom.”
He folded his arms, his expression dubious. “Well, you’re making a bad one.”
She shook her head, done. “I love you, but I’m not talking to you about this anymore.” She brushed past him before he could reply, refusing to say another word. The deal was done. She’d play Issac’s game in exchange for answers. Nothing more, nothing less.
The demon in question raised a glass to her as she walked by, as if to say, Cheers, darling.
Yeah. Cheers, she thought back at him. I need a drink.
“You’re toying with an innocent girl’s life,” Aidan remarked as he sipped his brandy with an elegance only acquired by time.
“Perhaps,” Issac replied as Astasiya reclaimed her seat at the table in the corner of the dining room. That blue dress of hers clung to every curve and revealed a pair of legs that were designed to be wrapped around a man’s waist. Preferably, his. “He does appear surprised by our acquaintance, yes?” he asked, switching topics.
“It’s genuine,” Clara murmured, her perceptive blue eyes on their former ally. Her knack for sensing emotions was why he’d invited her to dinner tonight. “The whole table is shocked.” Which meant Jonathan hadn’t sent Astasiya to meet him that fateful morning at Owen’s apartment. He suspected that to be the case, but he still desired confirmation. Now that he had it, his plan could move forward.
Vote Then Read: Volume I Page 125