CHAPTER 16
SLOANE
Two days.
It’s been two days since Dimitri and I kissed in the gym. Two days avoiding each other like we’re carriers of some contagious disease. Two days of pretending everything is normal with Harper while I feel like I’m falling apart inside.
I’m a complete mess.
Saturday afternoon settles over Las Vegas, the sun painting the horizon in shades of orange and purple that reflect off the casino windows.
I’m sitting on the penthouse terrace with an open book I’m not really reading.
My eyes scan the same line over and over without retaining a single word.
My mind is somewhere else. With someone else.
Harper has gone out with Alexei. The house is quiet, silence broken only occasionally by the distant hum of the AC. I like this solitude. I need it to sort through the chaos of my thoughts.
Tonight is the poker game. Tonight I have to carry out my mission. Tonight I’ll be close to Dimitri again.
The mere thought sends a shiver down my spine. The contact lenses with built-in cameras are sitting in my room, hidden in the case Cooper gave me. Every time I look at them, the guilt grows a little more in my stomach.
Am I really ready for this? To betray Alexei, who’s welcomed me into his home? To use Dimitri as a way to get information that could destroy his family?
Dimitri.
His name reverberates in my mind like a mantra. His lips on mine. His hands on my body. The way he growled against my neck. Everything is branded into my memory, playing on a loop whenever I close my eyes.
I run a hand through my hair, frustrated with myself. What is happening to me? I have a mission. A purpose. I can’t let a physical attraction—no matter how intense—derail me. Harper could be in danger. I need proof, one way or another.
The sound of the sliding door startles me. I didn’t hear anyone come in. I turn around, expecting to find Harper back, but my heart skips a beat when I see who’s there.
Dimitri Morozov is standing in the doorway to the terrace, his figure silhouetted against the light from inside. He’s wearing dark jeans and a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing the tattoos on his forearms. His presence fills the space like the air around him is denser, heavier.
"Harper told me you’d be here," he says, his deep voice breaking the silence like a stone in still water.
I straighten up, trying to sound casual.
"I didn’t know you were looking for me."
He takes a step onto the terrace, closing the door behind him. The atmosphere shifts immediately, like the oxygen has thinned. His scent reaches me even from this distance: leather, aftershave, and something inherently masculine that makes my pulse race.
"Tonight is the game," he says without preamble, walking over to where I’m sitting. "You still want to go?"
"Of course," I reply, keeping my composure. "That’s what we agreed."
He studies me for a long moment, his gray eyes scanning my face as if searching for something. I wonder what he sees. Nerves? Anticipation? Guilt?
"There are dangerous places in Las Vegas, Murphy," he says finally, leaning against the terrace railing a few feet away from me. "Tonight’s game is one of them."
"Are you trying to scare me?" I ask, closing the book I was pretending to read.
"I’m trying to prepare you," he corrects, his gaze intense. "It’s not a game. There will be dangerous men there. Lots of money. If you do or say anything inappropriate..."
He leaves the sentence hanging, but the message is clear.
"I know how to behave," I reply. "I’m not a child."
A crooked smile appears on his lips.
"No, you’re definitely not a child."
The air between us crackles with electricity. For a second, we’re back in the gym, our bodies entwined, our mouths hungry for each other. I look away, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze.
"What time are we leaving?" I ask, changing the subject.
"I’ll pick you up at the hotel entrance at eleven," he replies, his voice more professional. "Dress... elegant, but not too flashy."
"Afraid I’ll embarrass you?" I joke, trying to lighten the tension.
He doesn’t smile.
"I’m afraid you’ll attract the wrong attention."
Something in his tone makes me shiver. There’s a barely contained possessiveness in his words that should irritate me, but inexplicably sends a heat spreading through my belly.
"There’s still time to back out," he adds, studying my reaction. "No one would judge you."
I lift my chin, defiant.
"I don’t back out, Morozov. It’s not my style."
His eyes darken slightly.
"We’ll see if you’re still saying that after tonight."
He straightens up, pushing off the railing. His movement sends a new wave of his scent toward me: intense, masculine, unsettling.
"Eleven sharp," he repeats. "Don’t keep me waiting."
"I won’t," I promise, my voice softer than I intended.
Our gazes connect one last time, an invisible electric current passing between us. Then, without another word, he turns and leaves. The glass door slides shut behind him, leaving me alone again.
I exhale slowly, not realizing I’d been holding my breath. My heart is beating too fast, my hands trembling slightly. It’s the effect he has on me. An effect I can’t afford, especially tonight.
Tonight, I’m an agent on a mission. Not a woman attracted to the wrong man.
I get up and head to my room. I have to get ready. Pick the right outfit. Practice with the contacts. Mentally review everything Cooper instructed me to look for.
As I open my closet, I feel anticipation and fear twisting together in my stomach. Tonight will change everything, one way or another.
And the most terrifying thing is that I’m not sure which outcome I fear more: failing my mission, or discovering that Harper really is safe and happy with these men I should be helping to put away.
Men like Dimitri Morozov, who look at me like they want to devour me and protect me at the same time.
The line between duty and desire has never been so blurred, so dangerous.
And tonight, I’ll have to walk it.