Chapter 16 #2
The engine roars to life, and we pull onto the dark highway leading away from the safe house.
The glow of the headlights cuts through the night, illuminating a narrow path ahead.
Neither of us speaks at first, the tension palpable.
We’ve spent days preparing for this moment, but the reality is suddenly more daunting than all our practice sessions combined.
The memory of that scorching kiss earlier also refuses to leave my mind, pulsing with an intoxicating mix of excitement and dread.
Eventually, Lincoln breaks the silence. “How are you holding up?”
My fingers curl against the smooth leather of the seat. “Nervous,” I admit. “Not just about the party. That kiss…” I trail off, not sure how to put my feelings into words.
His grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles white in the reflection of the dash. “I know. Me too. But we’ll figure it out. One thing at a time, right?”
“Right,” I say softly, letting out a slow breath. “One thing at a time.”
The highway stretches on, and we drive in near-silence, the hum of the engine and the faint roar of wind around the car acting as our soundtrack.
My eyes dart to the clock on the dashboard.
We’re supposed to arrive by nine, and it’s a little after eight-thirty now.
Perfect timing—enough to get in without seeming too eager or too late.
I remember the last time we were at Club Greed—the pounding music, the swirling lights, and the undercurrent of secrecy that laced every interaction.
This party is rumored to be even more exclusive.
My stomach flips. If someone decides we’re not who we say we are, we could lose our one chance at confronting Rolfe—or worse, put ourselves in real danger.
Still, I can’t deny the thrill that courses through me.
Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe it’s the aftertaste of that kiss.
Whatever it is, it’s making me feel more alive than I have in years.
I sneak another glance at Lincoln’s profile—strong jaw, set lips, gaze fixed on the road.
He looks every bit the capable protector, and yet, beneath that stoic exterior, I’ve glimpsed a passion that rivals my own.
The memory of his lips pressed to mine sends a shiver down my spine.
And honestly, I can’t wait to kiss him again. I hope everyone at the club asks us to prove we’re a real couple, so I can kiss this man all night long. That’s silly, right? I mean, that kiss was magnetic, but I shouldn’t want more. Lincoln’s a friend, a co-worker. Not boyfriend material. Right?
We take the final exit, the car’s headlights carving out a path through an industrial area.
The sign for Club Greed emerges. Lincoln turns onto a side street that leads to a valet station, and already I can sense the shift in atmosphere.
High-end cars are lined up, chauffeured by men in sharp suits and women wearing dresses that make mine look tame. My heart picks up pace again.
As we pull up, Lincoln cuts the engine and casts me a quick, determined look. “This is it.”
I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Here goes nothing.”
He steps out of the SUV first, handing the keys to the valet, then circles around to open my door.
The gesture is so gentlemanly it makes my stomach flutter.
I take his hand, letting him help me out.
My heels click on the pavement, and I smooth down my dress, the air tingling with the muted thrum of bass from inside the club.
He slides an arm around my waist, pulling me close. It’s a move that feels shockingly natural now, like we’re slipping into the roles we’ve spent all week rehearsing. My heart stutters at how easily I nestle into his side, how my hand seems to find his lapel without hesitation.
We approach the velvet rope, where a poised hostess checks our names on an iPad in her hands. “Mr. Zane,” she says with a polite nod, glancing at me. “Mrs. Zane. Welcome back.”
My breath hitches at hearing that name aloud, but Lincoln responds smoothly. “Thank you. We’re looking forward to tonight.”
She smiles a bit too knowingly, parting the rope to let us pass.
As we head inside, the pounding music grows louder, colors flash across the dance floor, and the familiar swirl of heat and neon washes over us.
My hand tightens on Lincoln’s jacket, the memory of our steamy kiss dancing along the edges of my mind.
Whatever happens in the next few hours—whatever we discover about Rolfe, or what secrets he might be hiding—I know one thing for sure.
That kiss was real in a way I never anticipated.
And as we merge into the crowd, my thoughts remain locked on Lincoln, on the taste of his lips, and on the unspoken promise that maybe this is just the beginning.
We’re here for a mission, yes. But as I glance up into his eyes, catching the lingering trace of desire there, I realize that what we share is far from pretend. And that, above all else, might be the most dangerous truth of all.