We walked toward the restaurant inside the hotel that had been closed off for this invitation-only event. I'd gotten an invite because my boss was a close friend of Pierre's, and as such he offered two tickets to my firm at every convention, but this was the first time I'd been lucky enough to get to use them. Before Joseph told me he was probably a fraud, I'd been pretty stoked.
Now… I was mostly ill.
Here I was, all dressed up, about to dine with a man who might be devious enough to steal from people who trusted him with their life's savings, accompanied by a man who was trying to catch him, and I was supposed to pretend to be Joseph's lover. Something that no longer seemed as preposterous as it had a mere week ago when I'd wondered if I'd been wrong to push him away all these years. So, yeah, ill was the perfect word to describe how I currently felt.
After fishing out the tickets from my clutch, I handed him his. "Ready to cause some trouble?"
Splaying his hand across my lower back, his fingers teasing the curve of my butt, he grinned. "Always."
Something told me that was the most honest thing he'd ever said to me.
We handed our tickets in at the door, then walked past the tuxedo-clad host. The lights were dimmed low, and every table had a candle in the center that was surrounded by rose petals, and every circle of rose petals had gold string artfully strewn around it with a few jewels thrown in for good measure. The chandeliers twinkled above despite the low lighting. Classical music filled the silence, coming from the band on stage that sat off to the left.
"Wow," I breathed.
He leaned down and pressed his mouth to my ear. A shiver skittered down my spine as his hot breath washed over me, his cologne teasing my senses. "Maybe I should have worn a tux? The waiters are better dressed than me."
"Only because they have to be," I whispered back, trying my best to ignore my racing heart and hollowed out stomach. Since when did having him so close to me give me the shivers? Oh, right. Always…which was why I'd gone out of my way to ensure it never happened. "You're fine."
He studied the other men, all of whom were dressed comparably to him. "I guess."
"There he is, by the bar." I glanced toward Pierre, my throat tightening. "He's watching me again. I guess he likes brunettes?"
"Luckily for you, you're not one."
"I am right now," I murmured.
Pierre inclined his head toward me.
I smiled back slightly.
Hey, if the guy liked me, and I could help Joseph distract—
"Stop that," he commanded.
I played with a piece of my hair, coyly glancing away. "Stop what?"
"Flirting with a criminal," he snapped.
"Alleged."
He stepped into my vision. "Marie—"
"What's wrong, Pookie?" I brushed my hand down his chest. It was rock hard. "Are you jealous?"
"Pook—" He splayed his hand across my lower back, yanking me closer in an imitation of an embrace. "No one calls me Pookie and gets away with it."
Biting my lower lip, I gripped his suit jacket and turned my flirtatious stare on him. I had no idea what came over me, but here and now, in the dim lighting, I slipped into the role of his girlfriend a little too quickly. "Is that a threat?"
"No." He reached down and ran his knuckles across my cheek, lowering his face to mine as he brushed his nose across the tip of my own. "I don't make threats, I follow through."
Without even meaning to, I swayed closer to him, closing my eyes as the room spun around us. From behind, we probably looked as if Joseph was whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
In all reality, though, he was offering me a warning. I heard the sirens, loud and clear.
"Stop playing with fire before you get burned, Marie."
I tightened my grip on his jacket, laughing lightly. "I happen to like fire."
"Not this kind," he warned, running his hand down the curve of my hip as the other one touched my upper arm. "Not this time."
To be honest, I wasn't sure what we were talking about: Pierre, and his possible interest in me…or the fact that we were a breath away from one another's mouths, and I'd moved even closer.
Either way, the shoe fit.
"Try me," I whispered, closing my eyes.
He stiffened. "No."
"Why not?"
His grip on me tightened, shifted. "Because I told you when I kiss you again, it'll be because you want me to, not because we're playing pretend."
"I could dare you to kiss me," I breathed.
"Wouldn't change my answer."
"But you never back down from a dare," I said, toying with his hair.
"You're right. I don't." He paused. "But I would."
Something twisted in my chest. "You'd ruin your record to avoid kissing me."
"Yes," he said shortly.
There I went, throwing myself at him, yet again. And he refused to catch me, yet again. What was wrong with me? I forced a smile, tipping my head in a playful way that hopefully didn't announce how much I wanted to die right now. "Whatever. You seemed to want to claim me in front of Pierre, so I figured a kiss would help, was all."
"It would," he said, his gaze dipping down to my mouth. "We can pretend. Don't move."
He lowered his face to mine, his lips a breath away, if not less, and pulled me in as if he was kissing me. His body was against mine with no air, and his strong arms supported me as our breaths mingled. My heart pounded hard, drowning out everything around us, and I let out a soft moan. At the sound, he moved his hold on me, somehow shifting even closer. All that was missing was the lips on lips contact, and to be honest, it was almost more intimate without it.
Almost.
He pulled back, cradling the back of my head, staring so deep into my eyes I sensed he saw it all, even the parts I never even looked at out of self-preservation. My instinct was to pull away, to shield what I could, but I forced myself to stay still, to let him see what he wanted.
"They were on my case, too." He flexed his jaw. "Carrie and Finn. Always harping on me about how I should be with you. It wasn't just you."
I swallowed, my heart racing even more. "Did you ever think…?"
"No, because you never gave me any reason to."
I shook my head, my defenses coming up a little. "Neither did you."
"I know," he admitted. "I never wanted to have a girl at my side long term, so it seemed like a bad idea to listen to them. If we were together, and it ended badly, it could throw off the whole dynamic of our group."
I found myself nodding because I'd also thought of that. "I agree."
"So unless I was sure we might have something real, that you wanted to try, and that being with you would make me change my mind about being alone…" He shrugged. "I told myself I would never even think about trying."
Biting down on my lower lip, I nodded again. "Same."
"I did hit on you, once, though."
I snorted, my pulse still racing for some unknown reason. "College doesn't count. Everyone hits on everyone in college."
"It counts for me." He shifted. "Once I get a no from a girl, I stand by her refusal, and I don't try again. No means no, right?"
I hesitated. "I mean, yeah, obviously."
"And you said no."
Licking my lips, I nodded. "I did."
He stared deep into my eyes—so deep I wondered what he saw. "And as far as I know, nothing has changed in that area…"
I froze.
If I said it had…I'd be opening a door that both of us had to be prepared to have opened. Mostly myself. It was a big frigging door, okay? You don't just go ripping open locked doors without thinking about what might be behind it first. But you did think about it, an annoying voice said in the back of my mind. Over and over and over again.
We stared at one another for an unknown amount of time before he stepped back, cleared his throat, and said, "Want a drink?"
"Hell, yes," I muttered.
He offered me his arm in a very boyfr
iend-like fashion. "This way. Drinks are on me."
I laughed because we were both acutely aware the drinks were free tonight. But his comment had done precisely what he'd wanted it to—broke the moment of tension where things had gotten a little too real, a little too fast. I, for one, was appreciative of the transition. He was so good at making me forget what was upsetting me, and always had been…
When I let him close enough to try, anyway.
"How very chivalrous of you."
"That's me," he teased, but his attention was on Pierre, who'd gotten his beer and had moved over to his table, where he conversed with the woman next to him.
She, too, was a brunette.
The dude had a type.
We headed toward the bar, my hand wrapped around his inner bicep. I glanced over my shoulder at Pierre, and he was looking at me. I quickly looked at Joseph, who hadn't noticed. "Champagne or wine?"
I forced my attention back to the bar. "Champagne. It's the good stuff."
The bartender looked at us, and he smiled. "Two glasses of champagne, please." As the bartender retrieved them, he pulled a couple of dollars out of his pocket and slid it into the tip jar. "Thank you."
The bartender, a pretty young woman, flushed.
Joseph didn't notice as he handed me my glass.
"To a successful weekend," I said.
He grinned and clinked his glass to mine. "To a successful weekend."
As we sipped, I eyed Pierre again. He'd turned away from me, and was speaking to a man in a tux. Guess some of the men had dressed up after all.
"Should we go over there and introduce ourselves?"
"No, I don't want to scare him away," he said. "Let's sit at the table next to his, and see where it goes from there. Maybe we'll even hear him say something about plans we're not aware of, which will tell me when the best time to slide into his room is."
"Why not now, while he's down here?"
He shook his head. "Too soon, too fast. I need to weigh out all my options, see what's happening, hear him talk, then I can decide on a course of action."
I nodded. "I could text you if he leaves too soon."
"I don't want you—"
"Involved, I know." I rolled my eyes. "But I'm going to attend his seminar anyway because it's my job to go, so we might as well make yours happen, too, while I'm at it."
He flexed his jaw, clearly still unconvinced.
"I think it's a good idea for you to stay single," I teased, patting his arm. "You're way too protective."
He led us toward the table.
"It'll be fine," I assured him.
After taking another sip, he finally spoke. "Fine. When I go, you may attend the seminar, sit toward the back, and alert me via text if he's coming back. Nothing more, nothing less, and absolutely no engaging with him."
I snorted. "Yep. Definitely better off single."
"I'm not going to apologize about giving a damn whether you're safe or not," he all but snapped at me. "I give a damn, okay?"
Why did that make my heartbeat pick up speed?
"Okay," I said softly.
As we sat, I couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said about taking no for a final answer. That was a good thing—a thing I wished other guys stuck to, but the idea that the only thing that had held him back all these years from trying to kiss me again was the fact that I'd turned him down in college was…was…frustrating, enlightening, scary, thrilling.
Because now what he'd said made complete sense.
He'd refused to kiss me because I'd told him no over ten years ago, and that wasn't going to change until I asked him to kiss me again. He was respecting my wishes, keeping his distance, and that wasn't about to change unless I said those magic words. The question was…
Did I want him to kiss me?
9
Joseph
"Excuse me, but do I know you?"
Smiling to myself, I turned slowly, making myself as unthreatening as possible. Marie had gone to the restroom, so I'd taken the opportunity to approach Pierre at the bar without actually doing so, hoping he'd be the first to speak. My gamble had paid off.
Rasco had spent the night ogling my girl—okay, she wasn't actually my girl, but I was playing a part right now, so for all intents and purposes, she belonged to me—and for me to have not noticed would have seemed unrealistic, so I settled into the role of a slightly jealous boyfriend. It was a little easier to accomplish than I'd care to admit because it was Marie.
It was always fucking Marie.
"I don't believe so, but you've been staring all night—at my companion, that is." I forced a tense smile. "I'm Joseph. I'm here with my girlfriend, Marie."
Pierre had the grace to look slightly ashamed as he shook my hand. "Sorry to have been caught, she's very stunning. You're a lucky man."
"Yes, I am." I rubbed my jaw and grinned. "Only a woman like Marie could drag me to a weekend of boring seminars about money and stocks."
Rasco laughed. "Boring, huh?"
"Definitely," I said, tipping my head toward Marie's retreating back. "I just came for some quality time with my girl, if you know what I mean."
"I don't blame you," Rasco said, watching her, too.
His gaze dipped down south to her ass.
Jealousy—real jealousy—stabbed me in the gut and turned me a shade of green I didn't like. Marie was not, and never had been, mine. I'd do best to remember that. "How about you? You here for a girl, too?"
Rasco laughed again, as fake as the first time. Threatening a man's notoriety was an excellent way to see his character. The way Rasco's chest puffed out, and his cheeks colored, suggested an insecurity that would lead him to slip up. A weakness. I liked weaknesses. They were easy to exploit. Also, weaknesses, like male ego, were good indications of bad character.
People with lousy character did bad shit…
Like, steal money.
"I'm actually the guy in charge of it all." He gestured toward the huge banner with his name on it. "I'm Pierre Rasco. Financial guru. I've been on TV, radio. Talk shows, podcasts. Have worked with two Presidents. Run several corporations…"
I forced a blank stare.
He laughed. "Surely you've heard of me, if nothing else than from that pretty woman of yours. She had to have talked about me at some point?"
"Nope." I shrugged. "She said nothing."
He laughed again, dragging a hand down his face. "Well, I haven't heard of you, either, so I guess we're even, huh?"
"Guess so." The bartender handed me two glasses of champagne, and I winked at her in thanks before focusing on my prey. "So, you're kind of a thing, huh?"
"Kind of." He took the whiskey from the bartender, not even acknowledging her. "How about you? Are you kind of a thing?"
"Not at all. I'm pretty ordinary."
Rasco looked me up and down. "You don't look ordinary to me. You a cop?"
How the hell…? Maybe I'd underestimated Pierre Rasco. I laughed. Hard. "Hell no. Close, though."
Pierre cocked his head. "How close?"
"I'm a writer, and I'm working on a book that has a cop as the hero."
Just as I'd expected he would do when I'd picked the profession, he relaxed and dismissed me as a threat. Nothing made people more at ease than speaking to an artist whose only real threat was stealing your bright line, or putting your name in a book. "Fiction, huh?"
"I prefer it to reality," I quipped.
"Don't we all?" Pierre said, grinning.
Marie came back inside the room, and I nodded her way when she slowed her steps, uncertain whether she should approach or keep her distance. "Speaking of reality…"
Rasco looked at Marie again. "Your reality isn't so bad, my friend."
There it was again. That goddamn jealousy. "No, it's not. How about yours? Where's your beautiful woman? Surely a man who is a God has a Goddess at his side?"
"I lost her this year," he said flatly, not meeting my eyes. "Reality caught up to me."
Or,
more accurately, to her. "Breakups are never easy."
"We didn't break up," he said, watching Marie approach. "She died."
"I'm sorry for your loss, man."
"Yeah, me, too." Marie reached us, and he straightened his spine, smiling at her. "Marie, I hear?"
Marie acted flustered, her cheeks coloring pink. "You were talking about me?"
"Always," I vowed. "Champagne, my love?"
"Always," she shot back, her fingers brushing mine intimately when she took her glass. "It's an honor to speak with you, Mr. Rasco. I was telling my boyfriend just how much I admire your work all the way here today."
Rasco looked at me. "Funny, he didn't seem to know who I was when we started chatting."
Marie stuttered, panic coloring her cheeks even more as she worried that she'd blown my cover. "I…uh…maybe—"
"Can't blame a guy for zoning out when his girl won't stop talking, and a truck is about to cut us off, right?" I asked him, nudging him as I man-spoke to him, knowing a guy like him would eat it up. "Girls want to blah blah blah, but it's up to me to get her here safe and sound."
Marie slammed her mouth shut, looking two seconds from committing murder. "I'll blah blah blah you, you son of—"
Rasco laughed, cutting her off. "Yes, it is our duty to get our women safely where they need to go." The smile faded, and for a second he looked every part the grieving widower. Maybe that's why he'd stolen from his clients. Loneliness and sadness. Those feelings combined could make a man do crazy shit. "And when we fail, it haunts us for the rest of our life."
I lifted my glass and took a big sip, not sure what to say to that, and not wanting to fuck up by saying the wrong thing. I'd never lost anyone important to me—not like that.
Not a lover, a wife, a companion.
"If you'll excuse me?" Pierre said. He caught Marie's hand, brought it to his mouth, and kissed the air above it, not actually making contact. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Marie."
Undercover: An Out of Line Novel Page 6