5. Lyric
CHAPTER 5
LYRIC
“The thing he wants to take from you.”
The words bounced around in my head all morning. I couldn’t say what about them bothered me so much, but they sent a chill through me when Flynn spoke them, and the unease only grew as I stepped onto the terrace of the private beach club.
I was in Moreau’s territory.
Flynn walked beside me, loose-limbed and at ease, a man who had nothing to prove. I kept my stride measured, my expression cool beneath the shade of my wide-brimmed hat. Elisa Deveraux walked like she owned the world, and today, I had to make Moreau believe it.
We were led to a low table set beneath the shade of a pergola, the Mediterranean stretching endlessly behind it. The space was intimate by design, meant to make his guests feel both privileged and trapped.
Moreau wasn’t there yet. It was another power play, making sure we knew his time was more valuable than ours. I settled into the cushioned chair and studied the postcard-perfect view as a server poured champagne into delicate flutes.
Flynn sat beside me, his arm resting along the back of my chair, his body angled toward mine. Protective. Possessive. The role came naturally to him, and that irritated me more than it should have.
“Relax, princess,” he murmured next to my ear. “You look like you’re about to snap someone’s neck. We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves.”
I forced my shoulders to soften, letting Elisa’s performative boredom settle over my features as I reached for my glass. “I’m perfectly relaxed.”
“Your jaw says otherwise.”
Before I could respond, footsteps approached across the marble terrace. I didn’t turn—Elisa wouldn’t be eager—but I felt Flynn’s subtle shift beside me, his body coiling.
Moreau had arrived.
Dressed in tailored linen, he moved toward us with the casual confidence of a predator who didn’t need to rush.
“Ah, Elisa,” he greeted smoothly, reaching for my hand and lifting it to his lips. The kiss lingered uncomfortably long. A test to see if I’d flinch.
I didn’t.
I let him hold my hand, my fingers neither tightening nor retreating. Indifference was its own kind of power.
Moreau’s gaze flicked to Flynn as he lowered my hand. “And you brought Mr. Mercer.”
“I rarely go anywhere without him.” I trailed my nails down Flynn’s forearm—and, yes, I was secretly thrilled to see the goosebumps my touch raised on his skin.
So Mr. Charming was just as affected by me as I was by him. Good to know.
I sent him an indulgent smile. “He has his uses.”
Flynn’s gaze heated as his fingers brushed the nape of my neck beneath my hair. Electricity zipped down my spine, and my nipples tightened against the soft fabric of my jumpsuit.
Oh, shit.
We were playing a dangerous game, and Moreau was watching it all, clocking every reaction.
“Well.” Moreau’s smile froze as he settled into the chair across from us. “This is a change from yesterday.”
“Yes,” I said, injecting a bit of breathlessness into my laugh. “I wasn’t happy with him yesterday. He can be… possessive. It’s annoying, but we worked it out.”
“So I see. I had hoped for a more intimate conversation. Without your new...” He looked at Flynn the way most people looked at cockroaches. “Security guard, is it?”
“Among other things.” Flynn smiled, all teeth. “Elisa and I are something of a package deal these days.”
Moreau leaned back, his eyes narrowing. “Package deals can be... renegotiated.”
“Not this one.” Flynn’s fingers traced another slow, idle pattern against my shoulder, his featherlight touch lighting up my every nerve ending like fucking sparklers.
And judging by the mischief in his eyes, he knew exactly how he was affecting me.
I resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs.
“The Sentinel drone system,” I said, and turned back to Moreau, redirecting the conversation. “Let’s discuss what I came for.”
Moreau signaled to a server for more champagne. “The drone system is going up for auction. You’re welcome to come bid on it, of course.”
I lifted a brow. “Everything has a price.”
Moreau hummed. “What price are you offering?”
“Double what you could make on it at auction. Up front. No complications.”
“Why?”
I sat back, exhaling as if contemplating whether I even wanted to bother explaining. “As I told you last night, security. I don’t trust men with guns. They’re flawed. Bought. Bribed. Human. I want security that can’t be turned against me.”
Moreau looked at Flynn. “That doesn’t bode well for your continued employment, Mr. Mercer.”
Flynn made a quiet sound, something between a scoff and an amused laugh. “Some things you just can’t replace with machines.”
God, he was arrogant.
I ignored him and kept my focus on Moreau. “I’m not interested in playing warlord. I want something better: A future where power isn’t decided by whose army is bigger, but by whose security is untouchable.”
Moreau tilted his head, watching me the way a spider watches a fly twisting in its web. “You expect me to believe you’d put a billion-dollar drone system in a glass case and let it gather dust as a deterrent?”
“I expect you to believe I’m smart enough to use it properly.”
“Ah, Elisa, I like you. You’re bold. But I must admit, your… attachment to Mr. Mercer is distracting.” Moreau’s gaze flicked to Flynn’s hand still resting on my shoulder, his thumb still moving in lazy circles.
“You seem tense, Moreau,” Flynn said, amusement practically dripping from his words.
Moreau’s smile turned glacial as he picked up his glass. “Not tense. Merely curious about the nature of your relationship. It seems... complicated.”
“The best things usually are,” I replied smoothly. I deliberately leaned into Flynn’s touch, a calculated move that made Moreau’s jaw tighten.
“I find complications tedious,” Moreau said. His eyes never left mine as he took a measured sip from his glass. “In business and pleasure.”
Flynn’s thumb paused its maddening circle on my skin. “You deal in black market weapons tech. Seems pretty fucking complicated to me.”
“On the contrary. The rules are quite simple when you’re the one who makes them.”
“Then you should be very interested in my offer,” I countered. “It’s as simple as it gets.”
Moreau set his glass down with a decisive clink without taking a drink. “Simple, yes, but not the most lucrative. The world is changing, Elisa. We’re on the brink of another world war, and nations are fighting to stay relevant. They would pay handsomely for an edge like Sentinel. So would the black market. And, frankly, I don’t think your pockets are deep enough.”
Flynn snorted, and there was a definite edge of impatience in his tone now. “So you’d rather sell it to some terrorist who thinks they can win a war with it?”
“Wars are profitable,” Moreau replied.
I leaned forward again. “What I’m offering is the future, Monsieur Moreau. And the future pays more than whatever short-sighted bid you’d get from some warlord at auction. Like you said, the rules only stay simple when you’re in control. How long do you think that lasts once you let this tech loose?”
“Imagine,” Flynn added, “every small-time player with a grudge and enough money to spend coming for you because they think you’ve gotten too powerful.”
Moreau exhaled a half-laugh. “I’m careful with who I invite to my auctions.”
“Right,” Flynn said, deadpan. “I’m sure all of them are upstanding citizens who would never betray you.”
Moreau shifted in his chair.
There it was. The crack.
I moved in to exploit it. “What I’m offering is more than money. I’m offering a business partnership. You sell Sentinel to me, and I use my connections to market it as an exclusive security system to all of my friends. The demand for specialized tech goes through the roof, and every player in the market comes to you for their own private version of Sentinel. The oligarchs and oil lords, the heirs and diplomats. All the ones who matter. You’ll be the sole supplier of the world’s most secure private network.”
He didn’t respond immediately, but I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes.
“Security,” Moreau repeated, as if tasting the word. “A bold strategy, Elisa. It would potentially take years to pay off.”
“I’m in it for the long game,” I said. “Are you?”
A tense silence followed. The only sound was the clink of his ring as he tapped his finger against his glass.
“I’ll consider it…” His smile finally returned, but it was a razor-thin line. “If you have dinner with me.” His gaze cut to Flynn. “Alone.”
And there it was. Just as Flynn had predicted, Moreau wanted all of Elisa—her money, her attention, her body—but Colt Mercer was in his way.
“Dinner?” Flynn drawled. “Hell of a gamble, asking a woman out in front of the guy who makes her scream his name every night.”
I exhaled sharply and really hoped it came across as annoyance rather than the suppressed laugh it had been.
The look on Moreau’s face was priceless. “Confidence is an admirable trait, Mr. Mercer. Though in excess, it often reads as overcompensation.”
“Moreau, when a man delivers like I do, he doesn’t need to compensate for a damn thing.”
A muscle twitched near Moreau’s temple.
I exhaled again, fighting down the smirk trying to rise, hoping I still looked vaguely irritated.
But inside?
Oh, I was absolutely enjoying this.
Moreau swirled his drink, taking his time, like he hadn’t just been verbally gut-checked in front of an audience. Then, slowly, his smirk returned, and his gaze slid back to me, dismissing Flynn entirely. “So, Elisa. You’ve heard my counteroffer. What do you say?”
I let the moment stretch just long enough to make him sweat before I sighed. “Alright. Dinner.”
Flynn tensed beside me. His hand curled into a loose fist against his thigh, his whole body going still. He was pissed, and I didn’t think it was just an act. Which was ridiculous because this fake-lover, make-Moreau-jealous thing had been his plan from the start.
Moreau stood, and I followed suit. Flynn stayed seated.
“Excellent,” Moreau said. “I’ll send a car for you at eight.”
“Looking forward to it.” I turned away before I could see Flynn’s reaction and strolled out of the beach club into the bright afternoon. I heard Flynn’s angry footsteps approaching fast behind me.
The second we climbed into the sleek black limo waiting at the curb, Flynn let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“Relax, Shepherd. It’s just dinner.”
He scoffed. “You’re letting that smug bastard think he’s got a shot.”
“That’s the point,” I said, throwing him an exasperated look. “He’s easier to manipulate when he thinks he’s winning.”
Flynn shook his head, dropping back against the seat. “Yeah? He’s also gonna spend the entire night trying to figure out how to get you into his bed.”
I smirked. “I know. And he’ll fail.”
Flynn exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Still don’t like it.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “This was your plan!”
“My plan was to play your lover, so I had a reason to stay glued to your side more than a regular bodyguard. But then you went and agreed to dinner alone with him!”
“Because it’s what the mission requires.” I pulled off my hat and shook out my hair, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the confines of the limo. “You think I want to spend an evening with that slimy bastard? This is my job, Flynn. I do what needs to be done. Besides, I’ve handled worse than him before.”
“Have you?” Flynn’s gaze searched my face. “Because the way you tensed up when he kissed your hand back there suggests otherwise.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “I didn’t tense up.”
“Like hell you didn’t.” He caught my hand—the one Moreau had kissed—and rubbed his thumb over the spot. “Look, I get it. You want to prove yourself. But this isn’t about proving anything. It’s about staying alive long enough to complete the mission.”
“I can handle one dinner,” I said, softer now. “Besides, what choice do we have? He’s not going to negotiate with both of us there, and if I can’t buy Sentinel off him, then I need access to the auction.”
Flynn was quiet for a long moment, his jaw working like he was chewing on words he didn’t want to say. Finally, he exhaled, and a faint smile touched his lips. “At least I got to bruise his ego.”
“You certainly did,” I said with a quiet laugh, leaning back in the seat and stretching out my legs. “Though, for the record, you’re never getting me to scream your name.”
His head turned sharply, his gaze locking onto mine, and just like that, the air inside the limo shifted. Thickened.
That faint smile spread into a slow, seductive grin. “That a challenge, princess?”
I rolled my eyes. “Not in the slightest.”
Flynn leaned close enough that I could feel the heat of him and breathe in the scent of leather and soap. “Could’ve fooled me.”
My breath hitched, and for a second—just a second—I thought about closing the distance between our lips. I wanted to prove him wrong. But I also wanted to prove him right.
His hand slid to my jaw, thumb brushing the curve of my cheek, and then his mouth claimed mine, slow at first, like he expected me to pull away.
I didn’t.
I curled my hands against his shirt. I meant to push him away. I really did. But instead, I just held on, and then I was pulling him closer.
Flynn’s lips moved against mine with a confidence that made my head spin. This wasn’t the teasing, playful Flynn from earlier. This was something hungrier, more dangerous. His tongue swept across my lower lip, and I opened for him without thinking, a soft sound escaping my throat that I immediately wanted to take back.
But God, he tasted good. Like caramel and coffee and something uniquely him that made me want to crawl into his lap and forget about missions and covers and everything else.
His other hand found my waist, fingers splaying wide against the silk of my jumpsuit, and I could feel the heat of his palm burning through the fabric. My pulse hammered against my throat as he angled his head, taking the kiss deeper.
We were supposed to be fake lovers, but there was nothing fake about the way my body responded to him, the way every nerve ending lit up like a live wire. It had been so very long since I’d felt heat like this, wild and reckless, from just a kiss.
Had I ever?
No.
Not like this.
He groaned, low and rough, a sound of triumph and frustration all at once. He shifted, pulling me closer so I straddled his lap, the kiss turning fierce and impatient, reckless and consuming, just like everything else between us. I couldn’t tell where his breath ended and mine began. His grip on me tightened like he was staking a claim, and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew this was a bad idea—a really, really bad idea—but it didn’t stop me from grinding down on the hard ridge of his cock.
I thought I heard myself moan. Or maybe it was him.
Then the limo jerked to a halt.
Oh, God. What was I doing?
I wrenched back, eyes wide and lips tingling with the ghost of his mouth. My heart was a riot inside my chest.
Flynn’s amber eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and his hair was mussed where my fingers had tangled in it. When had I done that?
He sat there, sprawled in the seat, his legs spread, his very obvious erection straining against his slacks.
He grinned. “Told you, princess.”
I glared at him and swiped my hand over my mouth, trying to erase the taste of him. “I didn’t scream your name.”
His laugh was low, rough, and supremely satisfied. “You will.”
My insides went all fluttery, and heat crawled up the back of my neck. I turned away, reaching for the door handle. “Keep dreaming, Shepherd.”