Chapter 34 #2
“You’re not work,” I say, meaning every word, terrifying as it is. Before this, I’ve always maintained the line between mission and emotions. I’ve played roles, created connections, even flirted when necessary—always with a clear boundary in sight.
With Rhodes, the boundary is dissolving. His touch doesn’t just arouse me physically, it reaches something deeper, something I’ve kept protected. As we step under the warm spray, his hands tracing patterns across my skin, I recognize the danger goes beyond the planned op.
For the first time in my career, I’m uncertain which loyalty will win if forced to choose.
Later that afternoon, after a woman arrived at the suite to blow out my hair and style it, I finger through the gowns from Neiman Marcus. Rhodes dressed and told me he’d wait for me in the living area. It’s the first moment I’ve had to myself, given he hired someone to do my hair and make-up.
The suite has transformed into a preparation area—makeup cases spread across the bathroom counter, dress bags hanging from every available hook, the scent of hairspray lingering in the air.
Through the window, Washington’s monuments are bathed in late afternoon sunlight, the kind that photographers call “golden hour.”
The air conditioning hums softly, barely audible over the muted sounds of traffic below. In the corner, Rhodes’ tuxedo bag lies empty, the ritzy tissue liner scattered carelessly. I run my fingers along the silky fabric of the gowns, each one probably worth months of my salary.
With one more scan for cameras, I pull out my phone and message Quinn.
Me
Going to Russian embassy before gala. Plan to attempt access to a computer drive to install a surveillance program. Leaving hotel at 4:45. Arriving at embassy by 5:15.
Quinn
Could be a setup
She’s not wrong. If he’s pissed, it would be one helluva way to get back at me.
But Rhodes isn’t in the intelligence game.
He’s a coder. A software engineer. In his heart, he’s a good person.
He wouldn’t sabotage me or leave me to rot in a Russian prison.
He also has every reason to explore the directives surrounding his blackmail.
Me
It’s not a setup
There’s a swift knock on the door and it opens. I’m caught, holding my phone, standing in a black strapless bra, matching lace thong, and black thigh highs, all courtesy of Rhode’s personal shopper.
Judging from the way he looks at me, the phone in my hand is not top of mind.
“I was going to ask if you wanted my help picking the dress, but I’m tempted to bail on tonight and keep you to myself.”
He’s absolutely delicious in his tux.
“I was leaning toward the black lace dress. It matches.”
He runs the pad of his finger along the slope of my breasts, skimming the lace, and visibly swallows.
“Hot damn,” he says. “God you are beautiful.” Then his gaze falls to my phone. “Pick a dress. Then I have something to give to you.”
He takes a seat in an armchair. I toss the phone unceremoniously on the bed and remove the black dress from the hanger.
There’s a red dress, which feels like too much, and more than that, too eye-catching.
An emerald-green dress with a full-length gown that while beautiful, is really not my color; an off-white dress that feels a little too bridal for my taste; and a navy dress that is truly stunning, but black has been my go-to color for years and tonight I don’t want to be second-guessing my outfit choice.
The fitted black lace dress might be challenging to walk in if it weren’t for the high slit. The backless design dips to my lower back, and my fingers have just gripped the zipper when Rhodes’ warm touch swats my fingers away.
“I’ve got it,” he says. “You are temptation personified.” Warm breath cascades along my shoulder as his lips ghost my skin, lighting goose bumps along my arms. “But there’s something missing.”
I turn, questioning, and he holds up a velvet box.
“For me?”
“For tonight,” he says, and flips open the royal blue velvet lid to reveal a stunning diamond bracelet. The stones catch the light, scattering prismatic reflections across the walls of the circular room.
I’m momentarily speechless. It’s not just the obvious value—it’s the vintage craftsmanship, the kind of piece that has history embedded in every facet.
“There’s a tracking device embedded in this diamond here,” he says, tapping one of the larger stones. “And an emergency signal can be activated by touching the clasp three times in rapid succession. It sends an alert directly to my security team.”
“You’ve modified jewelry for covert operations before?”
His eyes meet mine, something unreadable in their depths. “First time. But not my first surveillance device.”
“You carry this around with you?” I ask, trying to understand why Rhodes would travel with what must be an extraordinarily valuable heirloom.
“No,” he says as he loops the stunning piece around my wrist. His fingers linger on my pulse point, and I wonder if he can feel my uncontrolled heartbeat. “It was my mother’s. A gift from my father. My grandmother gave it to me when I visited her just before meeting you in the Highlands.”
The timing strikes me—he had this before he knew me, before he had any reason to trust or distrust me. Yet now it’s on my wrist, equipped with technology to keep me safe. The contradiction is dizzying: a tool of surveillance that’s also an unexpected gesture of trust.
“She said it was time I had it,” he continues, voice softening. “For when I find someone special.” His smile turns wistful. “She says I’ve been alone too long.”
The weight of the bracelet feels suddenly significant in ways that have nothing to do with diamonds or tracking devices.
“When you agreed to the plan for this evening, I had a resource pick it up and outfit it. When you were getting your hair done, they returned it. By the way, I love your hair up.” I slowly turn. “I also love it down.”
The energy radiating between us intensifies.
He lightly caresses my cheek. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“You do listen to your security detail,” I say, attempting lightness despite the gravity I feel.
“So it seems.” His eyes hold mine, and for a moment, I see something vulnerable there—a man worried about a woman walking into danger.
The bracelet catches the light as I move my wrist, sending diamond reflections dancing across his face. It’s the most beautiful piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen. It’s on loan but knowing it was his mother’s touches me in an unexpected way. While it’s temporary, it feels deeply personal.
Of course, that might be his intent—to create intimacy, to establish trust. The professional in me notes these possibilities dispassionately. But as his hand gently cups my cheek, I find myself hoping it’s genuine. No, not hoping–believing. And that’s more terrifying than any threat.
“Ready?” he asks softly.
I nod, though neither of us moves. We stand suspended in this moment, both knowing that when we step out that door, everything changes. Tonight we walk into the lion’s den together—Rhodes facing those who would blackmail him, me potentially crossing a line from which there’s no return.
The diamonds at my wrist wink in the light—beautiful, valuable, and now, weaponized. Much like the truth between us.