His Word: A CIA Military Romance

by Monroe, Lilian

  Gianni Russo—one of the United States’ most notorious criminals, suspected of funding at least half a dozen human trafficking rings from here all the way to Asia—was leading me away from the main gallery. All my alarm bells blared. I gripped the champagne flute so hard I thought it might crack between my fingers.

  We made our way down a short corridor and turned a corner. I almost panicked as the walls started closing in around me. An excuse was on the tip of my tongue, ready to make my exit. I needed to leave. Nothing about this felt good.

  Gary was right. I should have stayed in the van.

  But then, the hallway opened up onto a smaller gallery room, and I knew that this was the jewel of the exhibition. At a glance, I could tell that every piece was Hailey Ford’s. Her paintings all bled pain and anguish, but looking at them made me feel oddly hopeful. This was a woman who understood pain, and who didn’t let it destroy her.

  Gianni took a deep breath, standing in the middle of the room. He swept his arms around and shook his head. “Have you ever seen anything so glorious?” He took a step toward me and continued talking without waiting for an answer. “I could tell by the look on your face as soon as you entered the gallery that you were taken by her—by Hailey. Everyone else in there…” He waved a hand. “They don’t get it. But you? You’re a true art lover.”

  I almost laughed. “That’s not how I would describe myself.”

  “But you feel it, don’t you? You feel her paintings right here.” He poked me in the chest so hard I took a step back.

  I cleared my throat. “I… I guess so.”

  Gianni sighed, looking around the room again. “In a few minutes, we’ll open this side of the exhibition to those pretenders out there, and they’ll soil the room with their empty comments and pretentious airs. I wanted to show it to someone before it was ruined.”

  “I… Thank you.” Standing in that room, watching Gianni’s rapt expression, I almost forgot he was our target. The way he spoke about the art made me think that he really was just an art dealer, and maybe we’d had it all wrong. He had such reverence for the paintings that surrounded us that I could tell he was being honest.

  How could this man be behind the uptick in child abductions that had been happening from D.C. to New York? How could he be selling young girls for profit?

  Gianni looked at the paintings, and I looked at him. We stood still for a few moments, until he took a deep breath and shook his head. “Well, I suppose it’s time to let that crowd ruin it all.”

  I glanced around the room one last time as Gianni turned toward the exit. Movement caught my eye in the far corner of the room. A door swung out into the room, its outline so smooth that it almost looked like part of the wall. My jaw dropped as the woman from the steps outside walked out. She was turned away from me, closing the invisible door again.

  Up close, she was far more stunning than I’d anticipated. Her soft, brown hair was gathered at the nape of her neck, which curved gracefully upward from her spine. Her dress flowed like water as she moved, the open back revealing her silken skin. Something familiar curled in my gut. My fingers itched to run up the length of her spine and tangle themselves into those curls, and my whole body leaned in toward her.

  She was magnetic.

  I longed to find out what she smelled like, how her voice sounded, how my name sounded on her lips. I wanted to hear her moan in my ear as I pressed myself inside her.

  Vaguely, I felt Gianni move beside me but all I could look at was her. She turned toward us and lifted her eyes to mine.

  “Hailey,” Gianni said, extending his arms toward her. “The star of the show.”

  For an interminable moment, Hailey and I stared at each other. Recognition flashed over her face, just as it did across mine. The heat in the pit of my stomach burned hotter, and I had to stop myself from reaching out toward her.

  She was the woman that I’d lost ten years ago. She was the one.

  Her name wasn’t Hailey Ford. Her name was Hailey LaFleur, and she was the love of my life.

  3

  Hailey

  Freddy fucking Finch.

  My heart stopped. I hadn’t seen him in almost ten years, but he still made my whole body turn electric.

  Just like he did right before he broke my heart.

  I could see those wicked green eyes from across the room, pulling me in exactly like they used to do when we were teenagers.

  But now… He was all grown up.

  From a lanky kid, Freddy had turned into… Well, he’d turned into an Adonis.

  Broad shoulders filled out his suit jacket, stretching the fabric across his frame. He wore a plain, black shirt underneath, and I could see by the way it clung to all the right places that he was built. Muscular. Hot.

  I wondered exactly what his clothes covered. Fire ignited in my veins as I watched him take a step toward me, my eyes flicking to his lips. They parted, and I wondered if he still tasted like spice and sin.

  I didn’t want to want him. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to run up to him and tear his eyeballs out of their sockets with my bare hands… but I liked the way those eyeballs were looking me up and down even as my body rebelled against me. As we stood there, motionless, a sharp current zipped up my spine and my nipples puckered under my dress. My skin ached for his touch as heat coursed through my body, pooling between my legs.

  After ten years of hatred, ten years of cursing his stupid name, he was here.

  And he was gorgeous.

  Ugh, I hated that he was beautiful. Freddy was supposed to grow up into an ugly, twisted, unattractive man. He was supposed to be unfuckable.

  But he was Freddy Finch, and he was perfect.

  Gianni stepped in front of Freddy, breaking my focus. The Italian glided over to me and kissed both my cheeks.

  “Glowing, as usual.”

  More like burning with rage.

  Was that rage? It felt hotter than fury. I smiled politely. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Hailey, you are never late to your own event.” Gianni ran a hand through his thick, black hair and winked at me before gesturing toward the hallway that led to the main gallery. “I should introduce you to my new friend, who has been admiring your work. Mr…?”

  “Langston,” Freddy answered. I frowned—he’d changed his name as well. Maybe, just like me, he didn’t want the past to follow him forever. His voice was breathy, deeper than I remembered. It shook something loose in my heart, something I’d locked away a long time ago. He extended his hand. “Miss Ford.”

  Distaste gurgled in my stomach and I nodded to Freddy… Was it distaste? Or was it need? I slipped my hand into his and braced myself as his fingers left a brand on my skin. I would feel that touch for days—his fingers wrapped around my hand as his gaze devoured me. I had to tear my eyes away from his face, ignoring the heat that was seeping through my body. Freddy still had those sparkling green eyes, high cheekbones, and those lush, kissable lips.

  So completely kissable, and so completely wrong. He still had that bad bad-boy charm and intoxicating aura that spelled Trouble with a capital T.

  But I wasn’t going to fall for it… Not again. No matter what my body was doing, it wasn’t going to happen.

  The way Freddy had said my name told me that he’d recognized me just as quickly as I’d recognized him. He knew who I was, and he knew that Ford wasn’t my birth name. But I’d left the name LaFleur behind me, along with all its baggage and bad memories.

  I was Hailey Ford now, and no one—not even Freddy Finch—could change that.

  Gianni put his hand on my lower back and I stiffened before I could stop myself. I didn’t like people touching me to begin with, but Gianni always made me feel slightly… icky.

  I couldn’t describe it, and usually I just ignored the feeling. Gianni had given me everything—an exhibition, a studio, and a career. The least I could do was pretend to enjoy his company. He was touchy with everyone.

  The three of us walked back to the m
ain gallery room, with Freddy and me flanking Gianni. The Italian talked non-stop. He complimented me on my paintings and talked about the fools in the next room—who, according to Gianni, were all trying too hard.

  I glanced at the Italian’s silky white shirt—unbuttoned halfway down his chest—and at his big watch, encrusted with diamonds, at his trendy haircut. I bit my tongue. Someone was trying too hard, and I didn’t think it was the guests in the next room.

  When we stepped into the main gallery, Gianni clapped his hands three times. He took a step forward, and I saw Freddy glance at me in my peripheral vision. I forced my head to stay still. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him.

  “Treasured guests,” Gianni said, as a hush settled over the crowd. “It is now time to show you what you have all come for. The genius, the talent, and the beauty of Hailey Ford.”

  All eyes turned to me and I felt a blush creep up my neck and onto my cheeks. I didn’t like attention. I didn’t paint for applause. I made my art by myself, in my studio, with nothing and no one to distract me.

  This was all so foreign to me, and it was uncomfortable. I scanned the room, hoping to see Jayden and Tanya looking back at me. I needed something familiar—something that would ground me. But instead, dozens of strangers stared back at me, and my nervousness amplified. I wanted to turn around and run back to my studio without looking back.

  But then again… Tonight was important. I knew that the impression I made on these people would impact how much they paid for my paintings. The amount of money I made from the sale of my work would go a long way toward making my life more comfortable. And if I was successful, maybe my family wouldn’t think of me as such a failure. Maybe, if I made it in this world, they’d accept me back into theirs.

  So, I squared my shoulders and lifted my eyes. I let a smile drift over my lips and nodded my head as people applauded me. Gianni made another grand gesture, and the crowd of people followed him down the hallway.

  As the guests passed between us, Freddy and I stared at each other. The two of us stood still in a sea of moving people. I searched his eyes for any sign of remorse, of apology, of anything that would make me want to speak to him.

  But they just glittered like two green orbs, mocking me. His lips parted and I cursed myself as my eyes followed the movement.

  I wanted those lips on mine, and I hated myself for it. Freddy took a step toward me. My heart ached, and the walls around it reinforced themselves. Freddy wouldn’t weasel his way into my life again, no matter how much his presence made my body burn.

  I felt a hand on my lower back and smiled as Marco Russo, Gianni’s father, gestured down the hallway. I tore my eyes away from Freddy.

  “Will you show me your masterpieces?” Marco asked.

  “I’m not sure they’re masterpieces, but I’ll show you my paintings.” I smiled at Gianni’s father and felt Freddy stiffen a few feet away. I could feel everything he did. Standing next to him was like standing beside a bonfire. No matter where Freddy was, I could feel the heat of his presence.

  Marco smiled as Francesca hooked her arm into mine once again. “Come,” she said.

  I glanced once more at the boy from my youth, who was still standing as still as a statue. His face had darkened when Marco and Francesca had approached, and now he looked almost angry. Freddy opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he turned away and walked out of the exhibition.

  Even as Marco and Francesca led me away, I heard the front doors close as if Freddy had slammed them shut. I knew he hadn’t—the double doors were so heavy it was impossible to slam them—but his exit rattled my bones and drove splinters into my heart. He’d walked out of the exhibit the same way he’d walked out on me a decade earlier.

  Just as he always would.

  Freddy Finch may have grown up, but he hadn’t changed.

  And a decade on, it still hurt.

  He still hated me so much that once he realized it was me who had painted all this artwork; all he wanted to do was leave.

  Tonight—the biggest night of my life—Freddy still couldn’t even put our past aside and be happy for me. I let Francesca lead me back down the hallway, and I accepted the first glass of champagne that was thrust into my hands. Glancing over my shoulder, I almost wished Freddy would reappear.

  Almost.

  But as soon as the feeling appeared, it was gone again. I didn’t want him to stay. I was glad he was gone. My life was better with him staying far, far away from me.

  The coldness in my heart was comforting and I took another sip of champagne. Freddy Finch might have reappeared in my life at the worst possible time, but he wasn’t going to ruin this night for me. No one would ruin it. I plastered a smile on my face and turned toward Francesca, nodding politely as she said something to me.

  Suddenly, I felt very out of place in my rented gown. I’d left the life of privilege behind me when my father had disowned me. I’d never imagined I’d move in these circles again. It brought back too many memories of everything that had gone wrong in my life.

  It made me feel small, on this night which was supposed to be my time to shine. It made me feel insignificant, just as I’d felt when Freddy Finch broke my heart ten years ago.

  I lifted my eyes to see Tanya enter the space, and my shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. She beamed at me from across the room, and I couldn’t help but smile back as she made her way to me. Freddy wouldn’t ruin tonight for me—no one would. Tanya wrapped her arms around me and I squeezed her tight.

  I smiled at my best friend. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Sorry I’m late. This is incredible, Hailey!” Tanya swung her eyes around the room. “Where’s Jayden?”

  My heart squeezed. Not here. “He’s… um… on his way,” I lied. I didn’t know where my boyfriend was, but I shook it off. “Let me introduce you to Marco and Francesca Russo.”

  I put a smile on my face and let Tanya’s presence lend me strength. Freddy Finch was gone, and now it was time for me to enjoy this event for what it was—the biggest night of my life.

  4

  Freddy

  I leaned on a column, bent over double as I tried to catch my breath. Gulping air into my lungs, I stuck my head between my legs and put a hand to my chest. My heart tried to hammer its way through my ribcage and my bones did their best to stop that from happening. The result was… painful.

  Hailey.

  She was incredible. She still had those same hazel eyes, with little flecks of gold in them. They’d pierced through me, and I could see the energy pulsing inside her. My cock was rock hard just at the sight of her, and even as I tried to stop hyperventilating outside, I knew where all my blood had rushed.

  I took a seat on the steps and dropped my head into my hands. My heartbeat started to slow. I lifted my face from my palms and glanced up at the night sky. There was too much light pollution to see the stars, but I knew they were there—just as I’d known that Hailey was there, somewhere, for the ten years I’d spent away from her.

  The doors of the art gallery remained closed—not that I’d expected her to run after me. Hailey was the belle of the ball tonight, and I was nobody. It felt like every other event I’d been to back when I was in prep school and college. All the socialites on the inside, and me on the outside. Alone. Isolated.

  I didn’t belong in there. I never belonged.

  Shaking my head, I pushed myself to my feet. My mind was spiraling. Hailey reminded me of everything I’d rather forget, but still, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I wanted to be near her. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and never let go.

  It took a few deep breaths for me to clear my head, and then I walked back to the van. Gary watched me over his glasses, his lips pinched together. He’d seen my exit from the art gallery, but was tactful enough not to make a comment about it.

  “What happened in there?”

  “The Russos are all there. I didn’t see any other players
. It looked like a gallery opening.”

  Gary huffed, settling back in his seat. He looked over at me again and inhaled loudly, but then chose not to say anything. I was thankful for his silence.

  My phone rang and I saw my boss’s name on the screen. “Hey, Berkeley.”

  “What’s going on over there? I heard Marco and Francesca Russo are there?”

  I grunted in acknowledgement. “How did they get in the country without us knowing?”

  “We’re working on that,” Berkeley responded. “Stay on the gallery. I’m sending another unit to you. You’ll stay on Gianni, and they’ll pick up the parents.”

  “No problem.”

  I hung up and took a deep breath. My heart had finally slowed to a regular beat, and I did my best to ignore the memories that were trying to invade my brain. The past was the past, and that’s where it needed to stay. Hailey was here, but that didn’t mean I had to relive every moment of our breakup.

  She had clearly moved on, and so had I. What had happened between us was crazy, but no matter how many times I wished I could take it back, it was done.

  But then, I thought about Gianni Russo kissing Hailey’s cheeks and putting his hand on her lower back. Anger flared in my chest. I thought of Francesca and Marco Russo on either side of Hailey, and I couldn’t sit still. It was her name on that banner outside, but she was in the middle of something bigger. Something dangerous. Something Hailey didn’t understand.

  I could see it on her face that she didn’t want anything to do with me, but I still had to protect her.

  Gary gave me a funny look. I leaned back in my seat and kept my eye on the entrance of the gallery. A handful of people walked out, but it took almost two more hours until guests started leaving in greater numbers. By that time, I’d been able to compose myself and focus on what was important—the operation. The Russos.