Burn for Me (Chaotic Love)

14. Fourteen

Fourteen

8-31-2024

Think.

-Sam

I run my thumb over the leather stitching on the steering wheel, finding it nearly impossible to keep my hands to myself as Jasmine sits prim and proper in the passenger seat. Her hair cascades over her shoulders, and her black dress hugs her curves in all the right places, ending right above her knees. Despite how her uniform often appears out of place, I’ve always known she was put together, but seeing it in this setting has me close to chewing a hole through my cheek.

I’ve learned to function on little sleep, so staying up all day to watch her wasn’t difficult. I checked all the cameras at base and compiled a list of the hotel guests' whereabouts and schedules. I even organized the clothes in our closet and drawers and put away all her things just to keep my mind focused on the mission.

I pull behind another car on the crowded street in front of a large brick building. We’ve been stuck in traffic for what feels like hours, so I’m sure she’s eager to get out of that seat; I can almost hear her skin unstick from the leather every time she shifts her thighs. God, those fucking thighs. I look down at her legs before quickly looking away again.

“This is a double date, by the way,” I say.

“Why?” she replies, her voice filled with more shock than I expected.

“Because it’ll make us look more natural for the first night. Supposedly, this is the number one restaurant for high society members.”

I try not to focus on the fact that I haven’t prepared her for today— she had me distracted, so it’s not exactly my fault —and I hand her an earpiece.

She unintentionally digs the bottom of her heel into the floorboard again as she takes the device and slips it under her hair into her ear without glancing at me. I force my jaw to relax so I can ask again if there’s something I need to know. Just then, a man in an oddly fitting suit knocks on the window.

“He’s the valet,” Jasmine whispers, sensing my confusion and frustration.

“He parks the cars,” she explains while reaching into the backseat to grab her small purse. I quickly catch the hem of her dress to stop it from riding up too far, and I can’t help but chuckle when I feel what's under the fabric.

“Little devil,” I drawl, “do you have a knife garter on your thigh?”

Her cheeks turn a beautiful shade of red, and she plops back into her seat, adjusting the fabric in place.

"I wanted to be prepared," she murmurs, just as another man opens her door. Taking a deep breath, I loosen my grip on the steering wheel and allow the valet to take my place. My steps are anything but calm as I follow closely behind her until I reach my spot by her side. I should concentrate on gathering information while we're here, but all I can think about is the unsettling idea of someone trying to touch her. After all, who wouldn't? She looks fucking amazing and smells so damn good.

We enter the building, where the dim lighting casts an intimate glow. It highlights the questionable artwork on the walls and the people dressed in lavish clothing scattered across different tables and booths, each adorned with small candles in the middle. My attention is drawn to a group gathered near the bar. The men stand upright, sipping their drinks, while women huddle at the bar, enjoying clear liquids from martini glasses. Due to my research today, I can identify most of the men and their roles in this situation. However, there are still a few missing.

I place my hand on the small of Jasmine's back, but it doesn't rest firmly as usual. Instead, it feels as if my fingers are bouncing against her spine. I glance down at her and notice the pink creeping into her cheeks. It’s as if she can't catch her breath, yet she won't look at me.

I try to locate what has captured her attention, but a waiter steps up and blocks my view of a group moving behind a red curtain.

“Table for four, right this way.” the boy hums as he leads us. I gently nudge Jasmine with my palm and scan the tables, observing the guests' interactions.

Once she settles into the back of the booth, Jasmine begins to gulp down a glass of water. I slide in next to her, but her knee shakes under the table, distracting me from my observations. I'm not great at offering comfort—I never have been—so I rest my hand on her thigh and apply gentle pressure, hoping to calm her down.

"Breathe, darlin'. It's only dinner. Like breakfast on the boat— just you and me. " I murmur as I bury my nose in her hair to keep my words private. A sense of satisfaction warms my skin as she leans into the gesture.

She winces, and my eye twitches as static crackles through the earpieces. A loud pitch whine follows, interrupting the moment.

“Is this thing working?”

“Easy there, little siren. You’ll make them go deaf like that.”

I lift my glass to hide my lips as I say, “One voice at a time.”

Jasmine finally sets down her drink and takes a deep breath.

“We have eyes on you two. I accessed the security footage, but after a certain hallway, it goes black.” Caspian comes through the speaker. At that moment, a man a few years older than me ushers his date into the booth and sits across from us. Instinctively, my fingers flex against Jasmine's leg.

“Hi!” I can almost hear Jasmine’s forced smile in her voice as she tries to engage the very irritable woman. I don’t look at her; my attention is drawn to the man before me. He smiles back.

“Are you lost?” I unintentionally interrupt Jasmine's awkward attempt at conversation as I address Jonathan. We don't talk about him on base for good reason. Why Caspian chose him… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand.

He leans back, resting his arm behind the grumpy lady's back.

“I don’t think I’ve had the honor of meeting your wife yet,” Jon says as he leans over the table, extending his hand. Jasmine takes it with a slight grin, a soft blush creeping onto her cheeks as he kisses her knuckles.

“Jasmine.” she hums.

“Jonathan,” he replies.

My hand trails higher on her thigh, and she stiffens, quickly pulling her hand away and dropping it onto mine as if trying to push it off.

“And you?” Jasmine asks, clearing her throat when I tighten my grip, warning her not to brush my touch away.

“Delilah,” the woman responds, practically gritting her teeth. She looks just as thrilled as I do on a bad day.

“Hey… uh—honey?” Jasmine laughs nervously, so I shift my gaze to my palm, now placed so high on her leg that it has raised her dress, exposing her red lace underwear. The flesh indents beneath my fingers, leaving a red mark around my hand as her skin resists the pressure.

“Yes?” I raise an eyebrow as I pull my attention back to her. If she thinks I’m going to move, she’s sadly mistaken.

“Keep it together, Sam.” Caspian’s voice comes through, prompting me to rub my hand over my mouth as I ask my question, knowing he’ll understand without further elaboration.

“Where is he?”

“Not here, so let’s hurry this up.”

Jasmine easily starts a conversation, smiling gently and laughing at all the right moments.

“So, how did you two meet?” She hums as a waiter approaches to pour our glasses.

“Ah, well, I've known Sammy since—twenty-sixteen, right? It doesn’t matter the year, but we… worked together.” Jonathan responds.

“Don’t call me that.” I flick my gaze over to the entrance, pushing the glass away, and follow a couple as they are directed toward the large red curtain.

“Of course, it was only for a short period, but it was memorable, to say the least,” Jonathan continues casually, making me scoff.

“Oh, so you work in the UK?” Jasmine crosses her legs, and I toy with her garter while she keeps my hand trapped.

It's mesmerizing. Typically, I would be fuming with everything happening, but with her warm skin under my fingertips and her hand resting on my wrist instead of pushing away, I feel like I can think clearly.

“No, sweetheart. I may be from the UK, but...” Jonathan hums in contemplation, rubbing his hand over the thick beard lining his jaw. “I settled in America for a time. Unfortunately, a few incidents caused me to be transferred to Australia. There, I learned my position, and the rest is history.”

My teeth grind.

He doesn't know, so I shouldn’t feel angry. Perhaps it’s the tension from our past, or a protective instinct that kicks in for those I’m closest to that makes my mouth move without thinking.

“Yes, unfortunate, isn’t it—”

“Enough, Sam.”

I clear my throat and look at the woman who seems uninterested in the situation. I usually don’t take an interest in learning about other faction members unless necessary, but when Sharkie tried to use her as an alias at one point, I did some digging.

“How rude of me!” I half-grin and extend my hand, which Delilah shakes. Now, it’s Jasmine's turn to grip my wrist. “I apologize for not introducing myself properly. I’m Sam.”

She releases my hand and scoffs, tilting her nose at me, but I still haven’t received a proper response. “And you are?”

“Delilah,”

I Hum in response.” It’s assumed she was dishonorably discharged after sleeping with her married captain, Jonathan. Ironically, I've researched him more than I’d care to admit, and he’s never been married.

If their faction, Greenport, is anything like it used to be, it’s another cover. Unlike Depth, which previously only protected the sea, and Bay, which only protected the land, Greenport has continuously operated by taking jobs no one else wants—either because they’re too dangerous or because they’d put too many at risk. This leads to their constant cover missions, which not only protect them and the few they might love but also plays a significant role in keeping the world in check.

Jasmine clears her throat as the waiter lays down meals I don't recall ordering. I flick my gaze to Jonathan, who raises an eyebrow in response.

“Complimentary from the owner. He tends to have a generous way of welcoming newcomers. Enjoy!” the waiter says, nodding before turning away.

Is this a threat? I know I'm not from this country, but judging by Jasmine's reaction to her meal, I have a strange feeling it’s not some sort of tradition. Think .

We could be compromised, and poisoning our meal is an easy way to take us out. We will raise alarms if we don't eat it and it's not tainted.

My hand tightens around Jasmine's thigh again, but this time, she doesn't jerk away or flinch. Instead, a smile crosses her mouth, and she digs her fork into the pasta and brings it to her nose. Delilah mimics the motion.

“Smells delicious, doesn't it?” Jasmine beams.

“Don't take a fuckin bite yet, just wait. I’m looking–” Caspian's words trail off with a keyboard clacking, but time is ticking, and we can only stall for so long.

Delilah gives Jasmine a bright smile, and the pasta is in their mouths in unison. I don't have a heart, do I? I think I may have one because I can't breathe while watching her jaw work.

“Bravetti owns the restaurant. Russian mob. Money laundering.” Caspian cracks through. I release Jasmine's thigh, ready to shove my fingers down her throat, but she squeezes my wrist in return while she finishes chewing and swallowing.

“You know the first word Sam ever said to me. It’s funny—completely contrasting how most love stories start.” Jasmine laughs, waving her fork, and I glance at her curiously. I don’t think ‘hey’ differs from how most people meet; I’m sure plenty of couples start that way.

“Test,” Jasmine says, laughing through another bite of food, and my brows furrow. Is she trying to distract me from her death wish? Not happening. I move again, and her nails dig into my skin, so I look at Johnathan, hoping for help. He’s either useless or has caught on to whatever is happening as he places a bite into his mouth and looks around the room.

“First word.” Tide hums in contemplation.

“I had made the bold statement to a close colleague that no one could put up with my sass. Little did I know my boss was behind me, and as I tried to backtrack, he cut me off with that word. I like to believe he was trying to say something like ‘try me.’ ” Jasmine recounts an elaborate story that leaves me so lost that keeping a neutral expression is nearly impossible.

“It’s a test. Eat the damn food, Sam.”

“Is that what you were trying to say? I don't think I ever asked.” Jasmine looks at me with those innocent, beautiful big eyes, and everything seems to go still.

Shaking my head, I look away and place a bite in my mouth, chewing through my words, “I meant to say that you were testing my patience.”

“Office affairs are always tricky, but it looks like it worked out well for you two,” Jonathan nods in response. Her grin catches the corner of my eye as I swallow. He doesn’t even realize how well meeting her has worked for me, just like she doesn’t realize how utterly terrified I was for once in my life.