Undercover Bromance

by Lyssa Kay Adams

  Because he was lying to her too.

  He had fallen for her. Hard. And he was lying to her.

  His voice was like gravel. “Liv—”

  She interrupted him. “She’s not going to help us. She won’t come forward.”

  “Maybe she just needs time.”

  “We don’t have time!” She shook her head and faced him with an expression that usually preceded words he didn’t like. “We don’t have time to wait for anyone else to do this.”

  Mack tilted her face up. “Meaning?”

  “This is my fight. I started this. I need to be the one to finish it.”

  “Liv—”

  She pulled from his touch. “The chamber gala is tomorrow night.”

  “What about it?” he asked, dread making sweat pool under his arms.

  “I’m going to do it. I’m going to get him on tape.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “It isn’t a bad plan, Mack.”

  Liv, Noah, Hop, Derek, Malcolm, and the Russian sat at the island in Mack’s kitchen the next morning. Noah winced as he said the words, as if anticipating Mack’s response.

  “It’s a horrible plan! She can’t face him alone.”

  “I won’t be alone,” Liv protested. “You guys can listen in—”

  “No.”

  “And Derek will be in the room with me. Royce won’t connect us.”

  Mack clenched his hands into fists. “No. There has to be another way to get a confession.”

  “How?” Liv countered.

  “I don’t know,” Mack growled.

  Noah coughed quietly. “I can get her wired up—”

  Mack’s had nearly blew off. “Wired up? Do you hear yourself right now?”

  Liv tried to calm him down. “We’re talking about Royce here. It’s not like he’s a kidnapper or a murderer.”

  “You never know what people are capable of when pushed, Liv.” He shoved his hands through his hair. “This is a bad idea.”

  “Do you have a better one?” Liv fired back.

  Mack threw up his hands. “Yes, how about anything that doesn’t involve you directly confronting Royce? What if he finds out you’re recording him?”

  “He won’t,” Noah said.

  “How do you know?”

  Noah’s face went blank, but, like, in a stop asking questions way. “Because I know how to do it.”

  Mack paced for several minutes.

  “You have to trust me,” Liv said.

  “I do trust you. It’s Royce I don’t trust.”

  “Then trust that I can handle him. I worked for him for a year. I know what he’s like, how to talk to him.”

  Mack stopped pacing. “I should be going with you.”

  “No. It’d be way too suspicious.”

  Mack felt the sour sting of desperation in the back of his throat. “There are too many things that could go wrong.”

  “I’ll be in a public place. What could he possibly do?”

  “He could drug your food,” Mack said, suddenly scowling.

  She laughed. “I won’t eat.”

  “He could stab you under table with syringe full of radiation poison that kills you slowly, said the Russian.”

  Everyone stared at the Russian. He made a what gesture with his hands. “Happens all the time in Russia.”

  “Here’s what I’m thinking,” Mack said. “We send two guys ahead of you—”

  “No. I have to go alone.”

  “Two guys he doesn’t know and can’t connect to you,” Mack said. “They can grab a table before you get there and keep an eye on things. If anything bad goes down, they can save you.”

  “Save me?”

  Across the room, Hop dragged his hands down his face and muttered something that sounded like, here we go.

  “It’s just a word, Liv.”

  “I can take care of myself, Mack.”

  “We should come up with a signal, just in case,” Derek said.

  “Knock over the salt shaker,” Malcolm offered.

  The guys all started to nod enthusiastically.

  “Was that in one of your books?” Liv asked.

  They nodded again.

  Mack’s scowl deepened.

  “Everything is going to be fine,” Liv said. “Royce won’t do anything in public that could end up on Instagram.”

  “But what about after? What if he follows you out?”

  The Russian cracked his knuckles. “Then I will break his balls.”

  * * *

  * * *

  The shower was running in Liv’s apartment when Mack arrived just before five that afternoon. Noah would pick them all up at six. Except for Liv. She would drive herself. Mack had spent a good half hour protesting that part of the plan, but he’d lost.

  They hadn’t had a single moment alone to talk since last night, and he had things he needed to say before she left. Because something about tonight felt ominous, and he couldn’t let her walk out without him making sure she understood a few things. There would be time later for him to tell her the full truth, and he would. But right now, he just needed to—

  The shower shut off. Mack cleared his throat. “I’m here,” he called out.

  “Okay. I’ll be out in a second.”

  She emerged in nothing but a towel. See Mack drool. “Liv,” he croaked.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Fine.”

  She gave him an amused look and walked past him into her tiny kitchen. “I need coffee,” she said.

  Mack watched her go through the motions of filling the coffeepot. Urgency drove his feet to where she stood. He slipped an arm around her waist and tugged her firmly against him until she was molded against his chest. “Do you feel that?”

  “Uh, is this where I’m supposed to say, is that a baseball bat in your pants, or . . . ?”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “I’m talking about my heart, Liv.”

  He felt her breath catch before she exhaled quickly. “It’s racing,” she whispered.

  He lowered his forehead to rest against the back of her head. “It’s been like this since the minute you kissed me in that bar, and I can’t get it to stop.”

  “Do—do you want it to stop?”

  “Only if yours doesn’t race too.”

  Liv slid her hands to cover his against her stomach. He reacted immediately, lifting his fingers to lace with hers and then curling them together into a tight, tangled fist. Liv rubbed her thumb against his, and he rubbed back. All the while his forehead remained pressed to her head, his breathing warm and fast against her hair, his other hand splayed across her stomach, branding her with his touch.

  “Liv,” he whispered, the questioning lilt making him sound young and vulnerable. “Am I the only one feeling like this?”

  Liv flattened his palm over her pounding heart, his fingers brushing the tender swell of her breast above her wet towel. “I lied to you,” she whispered.

  Mack froze. “About what?”

  “All that stuff about me giving you time to process and not wanting to break your heart?”

  He smiled softly. “I remember.”

  “I was talking about me.”

  Mack nuzzled her hair, his heart in his throat. “I know.”

  “I was protecting myself, because . . . I was afraid of getting too close to you.”

  “Why?” His voice barely sounded human beneath the layer of emotions clogging his throat.

  “I don’t know how to do this. How to trust.”

  Trust. There was that word again. That fucking word.

  “My father . . .” She paused to swallow. “He used to lie to us all the time. Say he’d call and then not do it. Promise we could spend a week with him during summer break and then have excuses w
hy we couldn’t. I don’t know how to believe in people.”

  Believe in me, he silently pleaded. Mack tightened his hold on her, his body trembling with the need to tell her the truth. He could do it. Right now. All he had to do was open his mouth and say the words, tell her the truth about him and that she was the only woman in the world he trusted to know the truth, the only woman he could imagine telling the truth to, and then maybe . . .

  Maybe what? She’d understand? Kiss him and make it better?

  Or would she walk away in disgust?

  Sweat pooled under his arms. With a long exhale, Mack dropped his face to her bare shoulder. She leaned her head back against him and held him as if she sensed that he needed . . . something.

  Then she turned her face and kissed him. Sweetly. Softly. “I have to get ready,” she said.

  And then she slipped from his grasp.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “Can you hear me?”

  Liv spoke quietly as she stepped off the elevator on the top floor of the Parkway Hotel. Her heels sank into the carpet, and she paused just long enough to steady herself before following the sounds of the gala in the ballroom at the end of the hallway.

  “Gotcha, Liv,” came Noah’s response. “Check in again when you get in the room.”

  Her stomach clenched with every step. What if she failed? What if Royce refused to talk to her, or what if he did talk to her but revealed nothing? What if he spilled his guts but it was too loud in the ballroom for Noah to pick it up on tape?

  “Liv.” It was Mack this time, and just the sound of his voice calmed her racing heart. “You don’t have to respond, but I just wanted you to know I’m here.”

  I’m here. Such simple words, but they carried so much meaning. How could someone be so good at saying so much in so few words? How had she misjudged him so completely?

  Am I the only one feeling like this?

  No, she’d wanted to say. No, you’re not alone. I’m feeling it too.

  She regretted not saying it. She regretted not letting him come with her. She regretted her fear, her insecurities. She regretted that she couldn’t be as open with her emotions as other people, that her past made her doubt and distrust. She regretted that she hadn’t turned in his arms and told him her heart raced for him too and she never wanted it to stop.

  A man in a tuxedo stood by the doorway to the ballroom and greeted her. “Good evening. May I check your ticket, please?”

  Liv opened her clutch purse and withdrew the invitation Derek had given her. Satisfied that she wasn’t a party crasher, the man smiled and opened the door for her. Liv was hit with the sudden swell of sound—laughter, conversation, clinking glasses, and music from the live oldies band. Twinkling chandeliers cast the room in a soft yellow glow, just low enough to perfectly catch the light of diamond earrings and a hundred sequined dresses. If rich people knew anything, it was how to take advantage of their surroundings.

  Liv paused another moment to get her bearings. “I’m in,” she said, looking down so people wouldn’t notice her talking to herself. “Can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear, Liv.”

  Relief gave her confidence to walk, to enter the party, to paste a smile on her face. A waiter approached with a tray of champagne flutes. Liv accepted one with a quiet thanks and took a small sip. She didn’t really want it, but she feared she’d look out of place if she didn’t take it.

  “Derek is sitting at a table for the city,” Noah said into her ear.

  Liv studied the room, which was set up like a wedding. Round tables dotted one half of the room, where people in various levels of formal dress sat with plates of food and drinks. Some tables were reserved, with the names of sponsoring companies on placards high above the floral arrangements. She scanned each card until she found the one for the City of Nashville. Derek and his wife glanced nonchalantly in her direction but quickly looked away.

  “I found him,” she responded.

  “What about Royce?” Mack asked.

  On the other side of the room was a long bar surrounded by tall cocktail tables for mingling. In the center was a dance floor that very few people were taking advantage of.

  “I don’t see him yet,” she said softly.

  “Look for the flash of cameras,” Mack answered. “That’ll be him.”

  Liv smothered a snort of laughter behind the rim of her glass. Once again, she wished he were standing next to her instead of sitting in a van outside. She wanted his hand on her back, his strength and his warmth. She needed him, and the most amazing thing about that was that she wasn’t afraid to admit it. She needed him and didn’t mind. Was that what it meant to trust someone? Was this how it felt to trust someone?

  A round of boisterous laughter from the bar brought her gaze around. A large group of people stood in a circle, fawning over someone who was eating up the attention and the adoration like a dry sponge under a faucet. It could only be Royce. Liv walked closer. The man turned, and her heart stopped. Royce. He tilted his head back to laugh at something a man said, and he patted the guy on the back all buddy-buddy-style. Then a woman asked for a picture, followed quickly by another.

  Those people had no idea who he really was. What he was capable of. That behind that amiable facade was a monster.

  Which was why she was doing this.

  “I see him,” she whispered.

  “Okay. We’ll stay silent after this,” Noah said. “But we’re here.”

  “You can do this, Liv,” Mack said next. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

  His confidence became hers. Liv squared her shoulders, downed a large gulp of champagne, and stalked forward. She set down her glass on a cocktail table as she approached the group and tucked her purse under her arm. The group was reluctant to let a newcomer into their midst, but Liv finally squeezed through just enough to be seen. She waited for him to turn, to spot her. Her heart beat so loudly that they could probably hear it in the van.

  Royce finally looked her way, and there was a split second of disbelief followed by a total lack of emotion. “Olivia,” he said, adopting that sickeningly fake voice of his. “What a surprise.”

  “Hello, Royce.”

  “You’re looking beautiful this evening,” he said smoothly.

  She shrugged, aw shucks–like. “This old thing?”

  Curious faces watched their exchange. One of the women standing next to Royce looked on with what could only be described as annoyance that an interloper had stolen his attention. Did the woman not even know Royce was married? Not that he ever let that stop him from engaging in a nighttime snack, but Jesus.

  Liv extended her hand to the woman. “Liv Papandreas. I used to work at Savoy.”

  The woman’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, wow! How exciting!”

  “It was definitely interesting.”

  “You’re a chef?”

  “Olivia was a pastry chef,” Royce said, interjecting himself because he couldn’t help it, but also probably because he was afraid of what Liv would say. Good. She wanted him afraid and nervous.

  “What’s a pastry chef?” the woman asked.

  “Mostly I made desserts. My specialty was the Sultan.”

  That earned a round of oohs and aahs because everyone had heard about the Sultan.

  “I’ve always wanted to try that,” a man said. “Not sure I can afford it, though.”

  The man laughed nervously then with a glance at Royce, as if afraid he’d insulted him.

  Liv waved her hand. “Don’t worry. It’s just a cupcake. The ingredients actually only cost about two hundred dollars.”

  Royce’s face went stony and dark. He recovered quickly with a laugh. “You’re sharing state secrets, Olivia.”

  The group joined him in a kind of relieved laugh, as if they knew he was simmering.

&
nbsp; She briefly pictured Mack in the truck, listening in. It gave her courage to plow forward.

  “Royce, I was hoping to steal you away for a moment. May I?” She gestured toward the dance floor.

  The woman at his side shot him a wounded look, as if she’d been promised a dance. But Royce was a shark after a meal, and he wasn’t going to miss this chance to take a bite out of Liv’s torso. Little did he know she was the one who smelled blood in the water. He was wounded and didn’t even know it.

  He forced another smile, this one sinister. “Of course. I’d love to.”

  The crowd parted to let him pass as if he were a goddamned king. Their heavy stares weighed on her back as she led him to the dance floor. The band had just started a slow song, and other couples were quickly joining them.

  Liv’s skin crawled when Royce placed his hand on her lower back and drew their bodies together. She was going to need an hour-long shower to get clean after this. He smelled like champagne and cologne, a cloying combination that would forever ruin both for her.

  Royce gripped her hand more tightly than was necessary, and when he spoke, his voice was a cold, menacing whisper. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Networking. I’m still looking for a job, unfortunately.”

  Royce’s eyes darted around the room as if he was afraid just to be seen with her. She really liked him like this—scared.

  “I even applied here,” she continued conversationally. “The Parkway was looking for a pastry chef, and I got as far as an interview request, but then poof. They canceled on me for no reason. Don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

  He clenched his jaw. “It’s a tough market.”

  “Especially when someone is spreading rumors to ruin you.”

  The fingers on her waist pressed into her flesh. “I warned you.”

  “Indeed you did.”

  He met her eyes—his were cold, dark, hard. “If you’re looking to apologize, it’s too late. You had your chance.”

  “I actually think of this as your chance.” Sweat trickled down her back, and she prayed he couldn’t feel the dampness through the thin material of her dress.