Lying and Kissing

by Helena Newbury

  Next to me, Karen started to say something and then shook her head and stayed quiet. Clearly, she’d been affected by him a little, too.

  She started to play and, after a few seconds, the rest of us did, too.

  ***

  We played our first set and it went well. I wasn’t up to the standard of the others, but we were playing simple, well-known classics and I got through it with only a few mistakes. The others were friendly and sympathetic. I liked them.

  All I could think about, though, was Luka.

  As the party got started, he returned, tie now neatly in place. The fastened shirt didn’t do anything to hide the strong lines of his chest, though. Even with his jacket on, you could see the thickness of his upper arms and the solid sweep of his back, so wide from shoulder to shoulder. I kept my eyes off of him, except when he was looking completely the other way and I thought I could risk it. A couple of times, when he looked round and I was too slow to glance away, I could feel...something. Something dark and thick in the air between us, shot through with bright flashes. My whole body trembled like a magnet whose opposite is nearby.

  I looked, very firmly, at my sheet music until the danger had passed.

  After an hour, Karen put down her bow, rubbed her wrists and said we should take our break. We all stood. The two guys wandered off, probably in search of free wine. Karen pulled out a cell phone and went out into the hallway. That left me in the living room with about ten guests.

  “Now,” said Adam in my earpiece.

  I walked through to the hallway, trying to look as if I was just wandering and not really going anywhere in particular. On the way out of the living room, I nudged the door with my hip and then stepped through before it slowly closed, giving me privacy. The hallway was chilly—every time a guest arrived, the freezing night air rushed in. No one was hanging around out here. The bodyguard was still standing stoically at the top of the stairs but the door to the office was out of his line of sight. As long as no new guests showed up for a few minutes, it was just me and Karen.

  I moved casually in front of the office door and then leaned back against it. Just an accidental push on the handle with my ass and I felt it swing silently open behind me. I took a deep breath. Karen had wrapped her arms around her against the cold and was turned away from me, trying to have a private conversation with someone—probably a boyfriend. Perfect. I figured I’d quickly step inside, slap the bug on the laptop and be back in the hallway in no more than five seconds.

  I turned and took a single step into the office...and stopped.

  Where was the laptop?!

  I’d assumed it would be out and set up, but the desk was bare.

  I reversed course into the hallway and pressed my back against the wall. Eyes squeezed shut, I stared at the after-image of the office in my mind. No laptop case on the floor. Nothing on the shelves but books. Unless it was actually hidden away in a safe or something, it wasn’t there.

  “No, Connor,” Karen sounded embarrassed and yet turned on. “I am definitely not getting any more piercings. Especially not there.”

  I knew I didn’t have to say anything. I knew Adam would be watching me through the security cameras. I found the one in the hallway, looked up into it and gave a firm shake of my head.

  “Shit!” said Adam. “He must have taken it upstairs with him.” He let out a long sigh and I heard him rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s nothing you can do. Play the second set and then come on out and we’ll pick you up.”

  As I walked back into the living room, I almost felt like crying. All that time and planning, all that practicing the violin, Roberta and Adam brought hundreds of miles from Virginia, all for nothing. My very first shot at a field op and it was a complete bust.

  Karen rejoined me, a little flushed, and then the two guys. We began to play again, but I couldn’t concentrate. It wasn’t my fault, but that didn’t matter. There was no way I’d get another field assignment after this.

  Part of me was glad. This whole thing had been terrifying enough. Crawling back to the support staff sounded pretty good, in some ways.

  But I remembered how Adam had smiled at me, how he’d believed in me. He’d pushed for me to be given a chance and now I was going to disappoint him.

  I saw Luka a few more times, talking intently to people, shaking hands and sometimes embracing people in firm, back-slapping hugs. There was no self-consciousness to him at all, no...doubt. I thought of myself at a party, standing nervously in the corner and waiting for someone to talk to me. He was the polar opposite.

  There were women at the party, all of them in their mid-twenties and all of them, from what I could tell, Russian. They were classily dressed and model-beautiful, mostly blonde—exactly how I’d imagined Luka’s girlfriends, when I’d listened to his calls with them. All of them—every one—latched onto him at some point, grabbing his arm and looking up at him with big eyes. And he gave them a smile.

  And then ignored them.

  When our second set came to a close, Karen let out a little sigh of satisfaction. “Thank you,” she told me. “You really came through for us.”

  I smiled, but inside I was dying. The whole op had been a complete washout. I sat there numbly, watching Karen putting away her cello. She paused for a moment to check her phone and then smiled adorably as she read a text from her boyfriend.

  My chest ached as I watched her. Why couldn’t I have that? Why was I so wrapped up in spying on other people’s lives, instead of living my own? We’d both just done the same gig at the same party, but she was going home in the warm glow of a job well done, home to the arms of her boyfriend. I had four hours in the SUV with Adam as we drove back to Virginia, while he tried to be polite about how it had turned out and I beat myself up, over and over—

  I grabbed my stuff and headed out into the hallway. With four of us all trying to get out at the same time, especially with Karen’s cello case, it was chaos. Then one of the guys from the quartet came back in out of the snow, complaining that he couldn’t get a cab to stop, and—

  The bodyguard who was guarding the stairs hurried down and out of the door to help and—

  Just for a moment, the way upstairs was open.

  Roberta must have seen my expression because I heard her catch her breath in my earpiece. “No!”

  The bodyguard was still outside, his back to us, whistling for a cab. The hallway was empty aside from Karen. “I can do it,” I murmured under my breath.

  “No!” hissed Roberta. “Abort! Get out of there!”

  Adam said nothing at all for a second. Then: “You really think you can do it?”

  The hope in his voice made up my mind. I grabbed Karen’s shoulder. “I just have to find a bathroom,” I told her. “You get the cab. My dad’ll pick me up.”

  Karen was trying to maneuver her cello case out of the door. “What? Oh. You’re sure? Okay. I’ll PayPal you your share. Thanks!” And she bustled out. In the street, I saw a cab finally pull up. Any second now, the bodyguard would turn around.

  Heart thumping in my chest, I raced up the stairs.

  When I reached the landing, I headed straight for the bedroom whose light was on—I figured that must be Luka’s. There was no time to listen at the door. The bodyguard was probably already walking back inside. Any moment, I’d hear him mount the stairs and then—

  I pushed the door open and stepped inside, holding my breath. If he’s in here, it’s all over….

  But the room was empty. I quickly closed the door behind me and leaned against it. Seconds later, I heard the heavy footsteps of the bodyguard on the stairs. Had he been counting the quartet as we left and knew he’d only seen three of us go? Would he wonder where I was or just assume I’d slipped out of the house in the commotion?

  The footsteps reached the top of the stairs...then came slowly towards me. Shit! He was thinking about checking the rooms. The floor creaked, right outside the door....

  ...and then faded away as he went back
to his post. It was several seconds before I dared to breathe again.

  For the first time, I looked around. The lights were down low, but I could see a king size bed with expensive, midnight-blue bedding. Off to one side, an open door led to a walk-in closet with suits hanging in neat rows. On the other side of the room was a closed door that I figured led to the bathroom.

  And sitting right in the middle of the bed, its screen lit up, was the laptop. Luka must have been coming up here throughout the night to check his email. A workaholic.

  I hurried over to the bed and dug in my purse for the bug—a wafer-thin silver sticker. I lifted up the laptop, then peeled off the sticker’s backing and stuck it in place on the underside. Now, whenever the laptop was on, we’d be able to see what was on his screen.

  I put the laptop back exactly as I’d found it. Now all I had to do was wait until the bodyguard took a break and I could sneak downstairs and out of the front door.

  At that moment, the door to the bathroom swung open and Luka stepped out.

  There are some moments you know you’re going to remember for the rest of your life. I know this, because one in particular has burrowed so deep into my soul that it’s never coming out. I remember the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach as the car fell. It was my life, dropping out from under me. The feeling that nothing is ever going to be alright again.

  This was the same and yet different. That was an ending; this was something beginning.

  I’d stepped away from the bed and towards the door. That single step probably saved my life. If I’d still had my hand on the laptop, he’d have known for sure I was a spy and I would have been carried out of that room in a bloody, plastic-wrapped bundle.

  I saw shock on his face and then, just for a split second, another look, one I couldn’t even process, right then—I filed it away for later. Then anger, and a quick glance at the laptop.

  Some instinct made me keep my eyes on him. If I’d looked at the laptop, my fate would have been sealed. But I just stood there, mouth open, as he closed the distance between us.

  One huge hand slammed into my chest, the palm right on the valley of my upper breasts. He pushed me back against the door, the hard wood jarring me painfully. He kept coming, stopping when his face was inches from mine. The whole world narrowed down to the throbbing heat of his hand against my skin and those burning, ice-fire eyes.

  “What the fuck are you doing in my room?” he demanded.

  We stared at each other as I took panic breaths through my nose, my lips a tight line of fear. His hand, pinning me to the door, might as well have been made of warm iron. He had me so firmly that I couldn’t even wriggle to the side. And despite my mounting panic, I was aware of the side of his thumb and the side of his pinky finger as they framed the tops of my breasts. Every breath made the soft flesh push and swell around them and a black, twisting energy shoot straight down to my groin. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

  In my earpiece, I could hear panicked whispers as Adam, Roberta and the others tried to figure out what to do. Burst in and rescue me? Wait and see how it played out?

  His words were replaying over and over in my head. It was the first time I’d ever heard him speak in English. His accent was heavy, softening some syllables and making others granite-hard. His fffuck was like a slow penetration followed by a jerk of the hips.

  What the hell is wrong with me?! I wondered again. I had to answer him, had to think of some way out of this, but my mind was stuck on endless loop, replaying his words. Any second now, he was going to snap and just kill me.

  So I did the only thing I could think of. I squeezed my eyes shut to try to break the loop and saw that image of him as he’d come out of the bathroom. The shock on his face, flicking momentarily to another look.

  Pleasure.

  Just for a fraction of a second, the ghost of a smile had touched his lips. Not the fake smile he’d given the women downstairs. A smile that actually reached those cold eyes, thawing them a little. It had been gone in an instant, but it had been there. He’d been pleased to see me.

  The implications of it were still detonating like fireworks in my chest when I opened my eyes and said, “I was looking for you.”

  He went utterly silent. His eyes flicked over my face, fast and brutally efficient, searching for any trace of a lie.

  He didn’t find one because, on some level, I think I was telling the truth.

  He inched his head back from me, but he didn’t release me. He was getting a better look at me, I realized. He’d been entirely focused on my face, but now his eyes swept down over my chest, my hips, my legs. Something like a hot shudder went through me and I felt a flush rise in my cheeks. That feeling I’d had downstairs was back, that sense of being locked onto each other like magnets, close enough now that I twisted and turned to mimic his movements.

  As he looked at me, I looked at him. He was nearly a head taller even with me in my heels, and his frame blocked out almost all of the light from behind him. With the black suit, he looked like he was made of shadow except for those blazing blue eyes. But it wasn’t his size so much as the solidity of him, the realness. Next to him, I felt like a faded, worn-thin copy of a person.

  And the weirdest part was, as I stood there pinned against the door, I could feel the energy of him flowing into me, reawakening me. After years spent frozen and slowly dying, I finally felt alive again.

  He took a long, slow breath and leaned in closer to me again. He was wearing some cologne I didn’t recognize, something complex and elegant and somehow old-fashioned. He moved his mouth close to my ear. Then he spoke, and each word was like a savage little kiss. “You shouldn’t come looking for monsters. Men like me will eat you alive.”

  And then he drew back to see my reaction.

  I didn’t know how I was going to react either. I was operating on a whole different level, now, something deep inside me directing things. I was just along for the ride.

  I took a shaky breath and whispered, “I’m not scared of you.”

  He stared deep into my eyes, appraising me, and said, “Yes you are.”

  And a deep, hot oil slick seemed to sluice through me, more complex than fear, more complex than lust.

  His free hand closed on my leg, just beneath the hem of my dress. His palm cupped my flesh through the nylon, his heat throbbing into me. And he stared at me, demanding an answer.

  I swallowed and stared back, and the message my eyes sent was…“Continue.”

  His hand rose, rasping along the dark nylon, my breathing ratcheting higher and higher with each inch. His fingers slid over my thigh...then my upper thigh. Each square millimeter he touched burned as if it was on fire, the energy crackling inward and up towards my groin. The dress was coming up along with his hand, gathering on his wrist. And then he touched the naked skin above my stocking and I realized I was panting.

  He stared straight into my eyes as his fingers reached my panties. His fingertips toyed with the waistband for a second...and then continued. He moved inward, now, hoisting my dress up further with an impatient jerk of his wrist. His hand slid over my stomach and up to my chest and—

  He cupped my breast, his hand weighing it in my bra. His palm throbbed warmth through the thin fabric, straight into my soft flesh. Then he squeezed—a long, lingering squeeze, and pleasure erupted in my chest and roared out to every corner of me. I tried to go up on my tiptoes, to twist, to thrash in response, but his other hand still had me pinned. I had to just stay there and take it.

  I’d never been more turned on.

  And then I heard a noise in my earpiece, a soft intake of breath. They’re listening to this!

  And my mouth said, “I have to go,” even as my body demanded that I stay right where I was.

  Luka had his eyes half-closed. He just remained there, studying me for another few seconds. He gave my breast one last, unexpected squeeze and I gasped as it sent a ripple of heat through me. Then he released me and my dress fell back into p
lace.

  Operating on autopilot, I grabbed my violin case and opened the door. I’d taken two steps out into the hallway before I remembered the bodyguard on the stairs. He turned at the sound of the door opening and his jaw dropped. He reached under his jacket—maybe for a radio, maybe for a gun.

  But then I heard Luka emerge behind me, and whatever nod or gesture he made to his bodyguard made the man step back immediately and clear a path for me. I didn’t turn around. I just hurried down the stairs, violin banging against my hip, threw the front door wide and headed straight for the cherry-red SUV. Adam was already inside and waiting and I could see the concern in his eyes. But he faked a fatherly smile and opened the door for me. I quickly climbed inside.

  We roared away and the last image I had of the house, in the rear view mirror, was Luka in the doorway, thoughtfully watching me go.

  ***

  There was a debriefing, back at Langley. Roberta did a lot of yelling about my “crazy stunt,” although I knew most of it was out of concern. Adam backed me up. “The bug’s in place,” he said. “We pulled it off.” He smiled at me.

  We. I liked that. I felt as if I was part of his team. In with the cool kids, even if it was only temporary. You have no idea how good that feels, when you were never cool at school.

  We didn’t talk about what happened in the bedroom, as such. I wasn’t sure how much they were able to put together, from the few words we’d said plus some rustling and panting. Thank God there were no cameras in the bedroom. Both Roberta and Adam asked if I was okay and I said yes, which was both true and not true at all.

  I was still trying to process the whole thing. One minute, I remembered it as being terrifying, the next it was the hottest sexual experience of my life, actual sex included. I thought about it from one angle and I’d been an innocent, out of my depth, desperately trying to come up with an excuse for being in his room. I thought about it another way and I was desperate in a whole different way. I’m not scared of you, I’d claimed. But I was scared of him. I was just so turned on by him that it was overcoming my fear.