Chapter Twenty
Verity approached the office the following afternoon with a now familiar sense of trepidation. She still had yet to fully process everything that had taken place in the last few days; events were stacking up too rapidly, making it hard to separate and identify her feelings. Wiping a sweaty palm on her skirt she took a breath and tried to calm her heart rate that was accelerating towards full blown panic attack. Raising her hand she knocked lightly and at the immediate response from inside, steeled herself to push the door open.
Cross got to his feet and gestured her into the room, after another moment’s hesitation Verity stepped forward, her expression still wary.
“Your message said you needed me in early?”
Cross nodded. “Yes, I wanted to make sure you had enough time to change.”
“Change?” Verity dropped her gaze to her uniform and then returned it to his face. “Are we playing dress up now?”
“After a fashion.” Cross unzipped the garment bag hanging from the back of the door and shook out the long, crimson evening gown.
Temporarily stunned into silence, Verity took a step towards the dress, her fingers twitching as she reached for the lush fabric. She didn’t need to see the label to know this wasn’t some chain store creation; the stitching along the low neckline looked hand sewn.
Retracting her hand before her fingers could make contact she suddenly felt sticky and sweaty and entirely unworthy of such a creation.
As if reading her mind, Cross nodded to a door on the far side of the room. “There’s a shower room through there if you want to freshen up and then I’ll send in someone to help you with your hair and make up.”
Verity’s hand flew to her ponytail and she scowled at him, muttering, “Rude!” under her breath. But she accepted the suggestion without further argument and spent the next twenty minutes scalding herself under the excellent shower and removing her hastily applied make up.
A light tap on the door told her that the make-up artist was ready for her, and once she’d wrapped herself in a thick towelling robe that wouldn’t have been out of place in a five star hotel she padded back into the office.
Cross was nowhere to be seen, but the large security guard by the door was clearly there to ensure she didn’t touch anything she shouldn’t. She jumped in surprise when the beautician strode forward - the woman towered over her and looked like she could give the bodyguard a run for his money in an arm-wrestling contest. Certainly she’d have no problem subduing Verity herself, she’d probably have her hogtied in half a second, with a handful of scrunchies if she so much as looked in the wrong direction. With a sigh, she edged into the chair and stared at her reflection in the temporary mirror, trying to ignore the way the woman tutted at the state of her hair, muttering something under her breath that sounded eastern European and unflattering.
People paid good money for this sort of attention, Verity told herself, wincing as a comb was dragged through her damp hair, I should at least try to enjoy it. Her eyes flickered nervously towards the vicious looking array of implements laid out with care on the desk and she swallowed hard. How bad could it be??
An hour later and the evil woman finally stepped away with a nod that was not so much satisfaction, more ‘ well that’s the best I can do with what I was given ’. Once her attention was diverted into packing away the torture devices she’d been wielding so expertly, Verity snuck a look at the mirror and her mouth fell open.
The make-up job was exceptional and disturbing. The beautician had given her features a symmetry they lacked in real life, creating the uncomfortable illusion that it was a stranger staring back at her from the mirror. With the porcelain base, the perfect cupid bow lipstick and the false lashes weighing down her lids, Verity felt like a china doll. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, then nodded forward to reopen them. It was uncanny!
But the horror wasn’t over and it took another ten minutes of intimate wrestling to wedge her into the expensive dress; a procedure which involved so much shoving, squeezing and groping that Verity felt she was owed a very large drink by the end of it and, quite frankly, a fancy dinner.
Finally reaching the end of her patience she slapped away the invasive hands manipulating her cleavage into the low neckline and bared her teeth.
“Enough!”
The woman flinched back, muttering something slavic under her breath - that Verity was sure was a curse on her and all her descendants - then she gave Verity’s appearance one last disapproving glare before she stepped away.
The image revealed in the mirror, brought Verity up short. The long dress clung to her like a second skin, the vibrant fabric showing no sign of the violent tussle early. Clearly, it was the vicious underpinnings that were taking the strain, holding her rigidly in place and leaving the bright silk to skim effortlessly over her curves.
A single lock escaped from the deceptively casual-looking updo, curling over her bare shoulder and coming to rest lightly against her collarbone.
As she took a step towards the mirror the skirt parted to reveal a slit high enough to display the tops of her fancy stockings. She gave the low neckline a half-hearted tug upwards but the growl from the woman to her left made her think twice about any further attempts at rearranging the ensemble.
“Thank you…” she muttered with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. “It all looks very ….” She didn’t bother to finish the sentence and the woman merely sniffed and zipped up her case.
What the hell was Cross expecting from her in this creation? she wondered as she slid her feet into the skyscraper heels in the exact same colour as the dress, she could barely breathe, let alone entertain guests or even make polite conversation!
Hearing the door open behind her she spun round, but whatever she’d been about to say vanished from her tongue.
Cross was resplendent in his evening attire. She already knew he looked good in suits but this was next level. Wordlessly she gaped at him. As he stepped further into the room and the light caught the satin of his lapels her addled brain took a moment to register that his tuxedo wasn’t the standard black, but rather dark, raven’s wing blue, an almost imperceptible difference that slammed her thoughts to a shuddering halt. Her eyes followed the fabric skimming his broad shoulders and seeming able to both hide and accentuate every muscle beneath.
A smile quirked his lips, clearly amused by her reaction, then he inclined his head and filled the awkward silence. “You look beautiful.”
Verity gave a sharp laugh. “That’s because I don’t look like me.”
“And is that a problem?”
She gave an awkward half shrug. “It is if you intend on tossing me into the room and shouting ‘Hey boys, I brought the evening’s entertainment!” She scowled. “That would be easier in my own clothes. I don’t even know how to get out of this thing.”
He shook his head. “That is not my intention. In fact, I will be requiring an entirely different set of your skills this evening.”
Verity frowned. “What skills?”
“Tonight I’m going to need a thief.”
Eyes widening Verity took a step back. “You want me to steal something?” She gestured to the dress, “Wearing this?”
“Is there a problem with your outfit?”
“Well it’s… it’s red!”
“The colour suits you.”
“It also attracts attention. The idea is to blend into the background, so unless the background is ‘abattoir’, I’m going to stand out like a prick at a lesbian wedding.”
Cross dropped his eyes from her face to the swell of her cleavage. “Trust me, no one is going to be looking at your hands.”
Disconcerted by the way her skin seemed to be heating beneath his gaze, Verity raised a warning finger. “Secondly, no sleeves and no pockets.”
He stepped closer, his hands circling her waist. “That would spoil the lines of the dress.”
“But where exactly do you expect me to put the item in question?” She spread her arms, “I’m not a magician, and there’s barely enough room for me in this outfit.”
His grin grew broader as his eyes wandered over every tightly encased curve. “Indeed.” He gave himself a visible shake and stepped away, handing her a small clutch. “Hopefully this will help. The item in question is very small; it shouldn’t present too much of a challenge.”
She frowned as she took it from him. She’d never really understood the point of bags that weren’t big enough to hold everything you needed to make a run for it.
From the drawer of his desk he retrieved a slim, silver lipstick case. “And you will require this.”
Verity stared at him in confusion. “I’m wearing lipstick, why would I need–”
“This is a listening device. I need you to break into an office and plant this somewhere discreet.”
Numb fingers took the cylinder from him and dropped it into her evening bag. “Who’s office? Where are we going?”
“None of that is important.”
“It is to me! I need context… and probably a map.”
“I will talk you through all the directions once we’re in place.” He withdrew a small case from his breast pocket, flicked it open and held it out to her.
Verity took the tiny earpiece and turned it over in her fingers.
Cross made an impatient gesture, “Put it in, I’d like to test the comms.” He watched as she slid the almost invisible device into her right ear and asked. “Can you hear me?”
Verity suppressed a shiver. She could hear him alright, but there was something deeply unsettling about that perfectly modulated tone rippling directly into her ear and trickling down her spine. She also felt slightly off balance and tilted her head from side to side trying to identify what was wrong. She realised Cross was staring at her, waiting for a response. “Yes, I can hear you, but this isn’t going to work.” She removed the earpiece and shook her head.
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t hear anything else.” Waving her hand at her left ear she shrugged a shoulder. “I’m still deaf on this side. With that thing blocking my good ear I can’t hear anything around me.”
Cross frowned at this unexpected wrinkle and then waved away the concern. “Leave it out for now, and we’ll use it only when necessary.”
Verity thought for a moment before stuffing the slim case into her exaggerated cleavage, pushing it down far enough to be completely hidden between her breasts. Catching the frown from Cross, she shrugged. “Just in case my bag gets searched.”
He nodded, gave her appearance one last look and then extended his arm. “Shall we?”
Swallowing hard, Verity accepted the offer, the strong muscles of his forearm clearly defined beneath her fingers, bringing an unexpected sense of security. She gave herself a brisk mental slap. She needed to be careful about thoughts like that!
Folded into the car in the unforgiving dress, the journey was uncomfortable but thankfully short and Verity exited the limousine with a sigh of relief as the invisible boning extracted itself from her ribcage and returned to its former shape. She took a moment to examine the street. They were somewhere near the river, in a very upmarket part of London that was unfamiliar to her.
Cross took her hand and led her up the steps to a smart house where they were immediately greeted by a member of the staff who ushered them into an entrance hall that was larger than her entire flat.
On the far side of a set of double doors she could see the other guests; conversation and laughter drifted through the air while at least a dozen smartly dressed waiters circulated with silver platters of drinks and hors d'oeuvres.
Despite herself, Verity pressed closer to Cross, drawing support from the lean lines of his body. “It’s all very fancy,” she muttered.
“And you fit right in,” he replied, laying his hand over hers. “Shall we dance?”
Embarrassment heating her cheeks Verity shook her head. “I don’t know how.”
“I do.”
Of course he did. He was probably waltzing as soon as he could walk.
Fortunately the dancing required was not formal and, for that, Verity was grateful; she couldn’t imagine him being thrilled with her stomping inelegantly on his highly polished shoes.
Cross moved to the music with a natural sense of rhythm that surprised her. He always appeared so rigid in their day to day encounters she found it hard to imagine him indulging in anything so frivolous as dancing. But as he drew her to the centre of the room his movements relaxed into a fluid grace that was hypnotic to watch. Precisely on the beat he stepped forward, his thigh insinuating its way between hers as his arm encircled her waist, a warm hand on the small of her back, drawing her closer and pressing her body hard against his.
“Eyes up,” he murmured, “and do try to smile, we’re supposed to be having fun.”
Verity jerked her gaze upwards, the height of her heels meaning her eyes were level with the firm line of his jaw and a shiver of excitement sparked through her body. It occurred to her that in all their previous encounters he’d always been careful to keep her at arms’ length, or turned away entirely. This was the closest she’d ever been to him and it brought with it an almost guilty sense of intimacy.
Her eyes wandered down his throat, and then returned to his face, watching the crease at the corner of his mouth deepen as he smiled. He was ridiculously good looking, she admitted as she wound a hand over his shoulder and around the back of his neck, teasing the neatly trimmed hair at the nape. In response, his fingers gently stroked her spine and for one moment she forgot why they were there, content to relax against his chest and let the music wash over her.
Without warning Cross suddenly spun her round and pulled her back against the hard length of his body. One large hand splayed possessively over her stomach, he circled his hips, encouraging hers to do the same and Verity felt her breath catch in her throat.
Lips tickling her ear, he leaned closer and unconsciously Verity tilted her head, offering up her neck to the caress. Lost in the heat radiating from his body and the heady scent of his cologne, her eyes fluttered closed.
He broke the moment by giving her an imperceptible jerk. “Concentrate. Do you see the man to your left? Red handkerchief in his top pocket.”
Snapping back to reality, Verity gave a surreptitious glance out of the corner of her eye and nodded.
“Good. In his inside breast pocket he has an electronic key card. You’ll need it to access the office. I want you to take it from him.”
Her brows knit together in thought and then she whispered, “Can you twirl me towards him?”
In answer to her question he released his hold on her waist, and extended his arm, sending her spinning to her left.
Almost wrong footed by the sudden move, it didn’t take much exaggeration on Verity’s part to stumble the final step and collide solidly with the broad chest of the man with red handkerchief.
Gasping words of shock and apology she righted herself, one hand still pressed against his shirt while the other fluttered to her chest in a show of embarrassment designed to draw his attention towards her cleavage.
Cross was immediately at her side. “I am so sorry. Was I too rough, darling?”
“Just took me a little by surprise.” She gave the man one last flutter of apology and let Cross lead her to the bar.
“Did you get it?” he asked as soon as they were out of range.
Verity nodded, taking a sip from the drink that had miraculously been placed in her hand.
His smile broadened, “Good girl.” He cast a casual glance round the room to ensure his words were not overheard and then leaned closer.
“Now I want you to excuse yourself. If anyone stops you, just ask for directions to the ladies. Then take the stairs to the first floor. Once you’re sure you’re alone, put in the earpiece and I’ll guide you the rest of the way.”
Verity nodded and placed her glass on the bar. Going up on tiptoe she pressed a light kiss to his cheek, “I won’t be a moment, darling,” she said in a voice designed to be overheard, “Just need to freshen up.”
No one stopped her as exited the room, and the couple she passed on the stairs barely glanced in her direction. Once she reached the wide hallway leading to a multitude of doors, Verity paused to check her surroundings and surreptitiously slid the earpiece into place. Giving one last glance over her shoulder to ensure no one had followed her, she whispered, “Are you there?”
There was a brief crackle of static and then Cross replied, “Yes, can you hear me?”
Verity winced. “Loud and clear.” Having her good ear blocked by the communication device was disconcerting and left her worryingly deaf to everything around her.
“Good. At the end of the hall, turn right. The office you’re looking for should be the third door on the left.”
Wasting no time, Verity made her way to the end of the corridor, peered round the corner to check that the rest of the route remained deserted, and then swiftly approached the heavy door. With quick fingers she inserted the card into the lock. A green light, accompanied by a beep signified that the card had been accepted and the handle moved easily beneath her touch.
Her lips curved into a grin of triumph as she slipped inside. “I’m in.”
***
In a bedroom above, Cross watched the CCTV feed as Verity entered the room and closed the door behind her.
The man with the red handkerchief moved up to his shoulder and nodded in approval.
“She’s doing well so far,” he said, the New York drawl lengthening the vowel sounds. “I didn’t feel a thing when she touched me for the keycard.”
Cross nodded and for the first time that night he felt a genuine smile creep across his face.
“Yes, she’s good. Very good indeed.”