4. Lyric
CHAPTER 4
LYRIC
I hadn’t slept. Not really. I’d closed my eyes, tried to drift off, but every time I did, my brain replayed the night in excruciating detail. Flynn crashing my mission. Flynn smirking like he owned the damn world. Flynn calling me princess with that teasing light in his amber eyes.
And, worst of all, Flynn starring in a dream that left me waking up hot, flustered, and even more pissed off than before.
Ugh.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling of my suite, willing myself to shake it off.
My body was an idiot. There was no other explanation. Some awful, primal part of me must’ve short-circuited at the worst possible moment, because I sure as hell had no other reason to be dreaming about Flynn Shepherd pinning me against a wall with those rough hands, that stupid mouth, that mischievous look in his eyes?—
Nope. Not thinking about it. Absolutely not.
I shoved the covers off and got up, already vibrating with frustration. This was his fault. If he hadn’t waltzed into my op with that lazy, smarmy attitude, none of this would be happening. And now, instead of focusing on the meeting with Moreau, I was wasting time scrubbing unwanted images out of my head.
God. Why was I so hung up on a man I just met? A man who’d nearly blown my cover and seemed to take perverse pleasure in getting under my skin? A man who made me want to both punch him in the face and...
No.
Fine. If my brain refused to cooperate, I’d focus on something I could control.
Elisa Deveraux.
I started with my makeup, contouring and blending away any trace of the restless night before. A hint of blush, a subtle smoky eye, a rich shade of lipstick, not too bold, not too soft. Just enough to make Elisa Deveraux look like she woke up effortlessly stunning. My hair came next, swept into a sleek, elegant chignon that screamed wealth and control. Every detail mattered. Every piece of the illusion had to be seamless.
Now I needed an outfit.
Men were easier to manipulate when they were distracted, and nothing scrambled their brains faster than a great pair of tits. I had a nice set, and I wasn’t above using them when the job called for it. I opted for a tailored jumpsuit in a dark, rich hunter green that complemented my skin. The wide legs allowed for easy movement—important if I needed to make a quick exit, or worse, fight my way out—and the plunging V-neck was deep enough to draw the male eye without risking a nip slip. Diamond studs went into my ears. A delicate diamond watch circled my wrist. A whisper of sexy jasmine and sweet vanilla perfume. Subtle, intoxicating.
By the time I was done, I barely recognized myself.
Good. That was the point.
I smoothed a hand over my jumpsuit, picked up a wide-brimmed hat, and stepped out of the suite—only to come to an abrupt halt.
Flynn was waiting for me, leaning against the opposite wall, maddeningly at ease, owning the space like the hallway had been designed for him to lounge in. The faint stubble dusting his sharp jawline made him look even more rakishly unbothered.
The lazy curve of his mouth sent a ripple of heat through me—and, just like that, all the time I’d spent slipping into Elisa’s skin evaporated. I was Lyric again, irritated and off-balance.
I hated that.
His gaze dragged over me, and he chuckled softly. “Fancy.”
A slow, unwanted awareness spread low in my stomach at the way he looked at me. I huffed and shoved the hat onto my head, turning to make sure my suite’s door locked behind me. “Why are you here?”
“Good morning to you too, sweetheart.”
My eye twitched. “Don’t call me that.”
With my back to him, I couldn’t see him, but I heard that infuriating grin in his voice when he said, “Figured we should grab coffee and strategize before your big date with Moreau.”
I shouldered past him. “This isn’t a date. It’s a meeting.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, princess.”
Keeping my expression smooth as glass, I stopped mid-step and turned. “Call me that again,” I said, voice honey sweet. “I dare you.”
Flynn’s grin only widened, his amber eyes crinkling as he pushed off the wall with languid grace. He closed the distance between us in two easy strides that managed to be both unhurried and predatory. “Careful with those dares, princess. I’m not known for backing down.”
I forced myself to hold his gaze, refusing to back down despite the heat crawling up my neck. “You think I am?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up, and his eyes—those damnable eyes—dropped to my lips for a fraction of a second before meeting mine again. My breath caught. Just for a second. Just long enough to hate myself for it.
“No. That’s what makes you interesting.”
He towered over me, close enough that I caught that scent again—woodsy and warm and sexily masculine. It wasn’t cologne, and it wasn’t overpowering. Just... there. And I had to resist the urge to inhale deeply.
For a heartbeat, I thought he might close that last bit of distance between us, and a treacherous part of me wanted him to.
The ding of the elevator shattered the moment, and I stepped back too quickly. His eyes sparked; a predator who’d just seen prey twitch. But it was either retreat or throw myself at him and climb him like a tree, and I wasn’t about to hand him that kind of victory.
Not when he was enjoying this way too damn much.
I forced a slow breath through my nose, smoothing my jumpsuit as if I could press out the heat still lingering on my skin. Calm. Collected. Unaffected. That was the goal. Even if my heart was still beating like I’d barely made it out of something dangerous.
I strode toward the elevator. “I need coffee before I deal with all of… this.” I gestured vaguely in Flynn’s direction without looking at him.
His laugh was full of wicked amusement. “All of my animal magnetism?”
I punched the elevator button. The doors slid open instantly, and I stepped inside without responding.
Flynn followed. Of course he did.
I felt him behind me, close enough to mess with my focus without even trying.
The doors slid shut, trapping us inside.
I stared straight ahead, willing myself to think about anything else.
Not the way his scent lingered, woodsy, warm, and masculine.
Not the way my skin suddenly felt too tight.
Flynn shifted closer, his arm brushing my shoulder. “Admit it, Siren.” His voice was low, far too smug, and far too close to my ear. “You had dirty thoughts last night, too.”
The doors opened.
I stepped out.
I didn’t look back as I marched across the opulent lobby to the cafe. Flynn’s footsteps behind me were unhurried, confident, and only fueled my irritation. I could practically feel his smirk burning into my back.
The hotel’s café was a sun-drenched space with marble-topped tables. A handful of early risers—wealthy tourists and business people—lounged with their espressos and newspapers. Perfect for our cover. I chose a table near the window, angling myself to keep sight lines on both the entrance and the terrace beyond.
Flynn slid into the chair across from me like he had every right to be there.
The waiter hurried over as soon as we sat down.
“Black coffee,” I said, pulling off the hat and setting it on the empty seat beside me.
“Caramel macchiato,” Flynn added, completely unashamed. “Extra drizzle and whipped cream.”
I blinked at him. “You don’t seem like a caramel drizzle kind of guy.”
He shrugged. “And you don’t seem like the fun kind of girl.”
“I’m plenty of fun.”
His grin widened. “Now that I’d like to see.”
“I bet you would,” I said, keeping my voice cool even as heat crawled under my skin. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs, using the motion to create distance between us. “We need to get our story straight before Moreau.”
Flynn tracked the movement, those sharp eyes missing nothing. “Our story is straight. You’re the bored heiress looking for thrills. I’m your latest plaything.”
“You’re my security consultant,” I corrected, though the word plaything conjured images I immediately shoved out of my head. “That’s the cover we agreed on.”
“Security consultant by day, plaything by night.” His voice dipped lower. “Rich women like Elisa Deveraux don’t hire men like me just for their professional expertise.”
My fists clenched, but before I could say a word, the waiter returned with my black coffee and Flynn’s sugar-laden monstrosity. I watched, slightly horrified, as he took a long sip, leaving a faint trace of whipped cream on his upper lip.
He caught me staring and deliberately licked it away. “Something on your mind, princess?”
“You enjoy being annoying, don’t you?”
“I’m not annoying. I’m a delightful ray of sunshine.” He leaned back in his chair, stretching those long legs under the table. His foot brushed mine.
Accidentally? I couldn’t tell.
I shifted away, ignoring the warmth that rippled through me at the brief contact. “Our covers have a strictly professional relationship only.”
Flynn’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You think Moreau will buy that? A man like him watches people, studies them. He’ll see right through us if there’s any...” He paused, searching for the word. “Chemistry.”
“There’s no chemistry.”
“No chemistry? Sweetheart, the periodic table’s jealous of us.” Flynn leaned forward, dropping his voice to a rumble that vibrated straight through me. “Every person in this room can feel it. Moreau will, too.”
I set my cup down with a sharp clink. “I am not pretending to be your lover.”
“Who said anything about pretending?”
“God. You are so?—”
“Charming? Funny? Irresistibly sexy?—”
I cut him off with a slicing gesture through the air. “Insufferable. I was going to say insufferable.”
He grinned. “Admit it, the other stuff crossed your mind first.”
I took a long sip of coffee to ground myself. The bitter heat burned down my throat. When I set the cup down again, I’d wrangled my emotions and expression back in check. “Look, we need to focus. Moreau is dangerous. If we slip up, we’re both dead.”
“Yeah, I’m aware,” Flynn said, and the teasing note vanished from his voice. “He doesn’t just bring random people into his inner circle. He’s paranoid. Calculating. If he’s reaching out to Elisa Deveraux, it’s because he wants something specific. My guess? He wants more than a business partnership, if you get my meaning.”
“I know what I’m doing. If he wants sex, and it gets me closer to accomplishing the mission, he can have it. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
Flynn went still. The light in his amber eyes extinguished. One second, they were dancing with mischief; the next, they were cold.
“Not happening.” His voice was flat, devoid of inflection.
“Never said it was, Siren. But Moreau’s known for testing his business partners in creative ways. I told you what happened to the MI6 agent in Singapore.”
A chill slid down my spine. This wasn’t playful Flynn. This was the operative behind the charming mask. The dangerous man who’d earned his place i n Edge Ops, however temporary it was.
I exhaled slowly. “Okay, and?” I asked, as if he’d just given me a weather report.
Flynn’s jaw tightened. “And Moreau doesn’t like competition. Think about it. You show up alone? He holds all the cards. But if you have someone? If you walk in with a man who already has his hands on you?—”
His gaze flicked downward, and I realized he’d reached for my hand. And I’d let him.
I pulled it away. His gaze lifted to meet mine again.
“If he sees Elisa with a man who very obviously loves her and would take a bullet to protect her, he’s going to take it as a challenge.”
My stomach tightened. “You’re saying this makes me a prize?”
Flynn’s gaze didn’t waver from mine. “Yes.”
My throat felt dry. I took a slow sip of coffee to ease the tightness. I didn’t know what kind of answer I expected—something cocky, maybe. Teasing.
Not this.
“And in this scenario, you’d be what, exactly?”
Flynn didn’t smile. “I’ll be the thing he wants to take from you.”