Chapter 6 #2
This was officially the new worst day of my fucking life.
* * *
My next job was to find a boutique and a dress for tonight, now that Si Thalassa—the arrogant, sexy asshole—had demanded I go to dinner with him. I also needed a cover story for the fake picture on my passport… just in case. One can never be too prepared.
I took the stairs to my room, with the intention of quickly getting changed before going shopping, but halted in the doorway when I spied a tower of pristine white boxes stacked neatly on the bed.
Frowning, I strolled over and picked up the larger box, opening it with trepidation.
Inside: a mouthwatering Chanel cocktail mini-dress in hunter green metallic lace, with a fitted bodice, scalloped edges, a thin-strap halter neckline, and a tulip skirt.
“What in the world…” I muttered, fingering the luxurious fabric.
A small white card fluttered out.
Reading it, my eyebrows scrunched, then I laughed. The smooth bastard.
“You will look stunning in this.
Don’t be late. Si.”
The second box held a pair of metallic silver open-toe heels—the kind that lace up the calves. The third: a matching clutch and a shimmering silver pashmina.
‘Great. He’s a complete control freak.’ But I knew I needed to keep him happy. Sighing, I stripped and slipped into the dress. If it didn’t fit, I’d still have time to shop. But it did fit. Perfectly.
Had someone come in here to check my measurements?
A chill rolled down my spine, but I shoved that freaky thought aside and turned to the full-length mirror.
The dress hugged me like a whispered promise, and as I ran my hands over the satiny lace, I shivered at how it kissed my skin. ‘Whoa there. Easy, tiger,’ I murmured to myself.
My year-long dry spell was messing with my brain.
Or maybe it was the memory of Si Thalassa, and that stupidly hot body; that heart-throbbingly beautiful face.
Just thinking about him caused my blood to heat and my lady parts to tingle.
Damn him. Good grief, I was behaving like a horny, capricious adolescent.
Maybe I could screw him tonight and get him out of my system?
Oh, yes, screw him before you decapitate him.
Ugh, my inner snarky voice was such a belligerent bitch.
Then a pang of guilt pierced my chest. Shit.
I smacked my forehead with my palm, shook off the rampaging thoughts buzzing around my brain, and stripping again, sank into a long, hot bath, pushing all thoughts of the mysterious Si Thalassa from my head.
At 6.30 p.m. I placed the final pin into my woven-braided low bun and smoothed the wisps of hair framing my face. My eyes popped with the dark kohl rimming them, lips painted a deep, provocative red, and my cheekbones were sculpted to perfection.
Not bad—for a killer who usually wore fighting leathers.
I smoothed the skirt of the dress as I stood and glanced in the mirror. Satisfied, I snatched up my clutch, which contained the vial of white powder hidden inside an empty lipstick tube, and headed out, pashmina draped over one arm.
Butterflies dive-bombed my stomach as I walked the hall, spine straight, chin high, with adrenaline shimmering under my skin like static. Once on the ground level, I breathed through the anxiety, but tingles of nervousness still radiated through my chest—the feeling of anticipation was smothering.
‘Good evening, Ajax,’ I called sweetly to the bodyguard standing by the entrance. His scowl deepened as I approached. ‘You know your face will stay like that if the wind changes?’ I gave him a regal smile.
‘I’m watching you, woman,’ he said in a rough whisper.
I looked to the ceiling when his cold-hearted stare bore into me like the frigid breath of a northern wind.
‘Why don’t you take your attitude and shove it up your ass, so your head has company?’ He released a low growl as his fists clenched.
‘No, you’re okay, don’t worry, I got it.’ I gestured to the door as I opened it myself, beaming at him as I walked past and outside into the Sunset Bar.
I stopped when I saw him… Si. He rose from his seat like a thundercloud parting for sunlight—and smiled. That smile sent hummingbirds into a frenzy in my chest, and I stood there staring like a dope. He was built like a god, and the masculine quality he effortlessly exuded permeated my senses.
His button-up shirt hugged his large, wide shoulders and pecs before kissing his flat stomach, and tapering down to trim hips.
Muscular thighs strained against his snug suit trousers in the most delightful way.
With his pale blond hair tied up atop his head, he was sleek, sexy, and all man.
This guy was… No words. There were no words.
He was well off the hotness scale… Super handsome with the ability to melt panties.
I’m not built for a soft man… I don’t listen, I talk back, I have no filter, and I have at least twenty different personalities.
I mean, I like to flirt with dangerous guys and have a penchant for bad boys, but holy fuck, this guy was something else.
Power, muscle, wealth… He was not someone to be trifled with, and I had to kill him.
Super.
A flicker of a smile danced at the edge of his lips. He knew. He knew I was reacting to him, the smug bastard.
Get a grip, Cordie. You’re an assassin, not a swooning teen.
‘Amelia.’ That commanding, authoritative steely gaze locked on mine as he gestured to a chair. I made my way to him on wooden legs. ‘May I say you look exquisite in the dress?’
‘Why, thank you,’ I said as I sat. ‘You are very generous. It’s beautiful.’
He waved off my statement. ‘Drink?’
‘An Old Fashioned, please.’
Jason, another of his bodyguards, brought my drink and an amber coloured liquid for Si.
‘Thanks,’ I muttered before I took a long draw. ‘It’s quiet in here?’ I said, looking around.
‘It’s closed,’ he replied. ‘They will reopen when we leave for the restaurant.’
I arched a brow. ‘Do you… own the hotel?’
‘I do.’ Of course he did. That steely gaze met mine again, making my insides almost shrivel. He looked away, and I almost gasped for air.
‘Oh,’ I uttered in a wispy voice. Definitely very wealthy.
He reached into his jacket and slid something across the table—my phone—repaired. My smile was genuine, and I fought the urge to check for a message from Guinn.
‘Thanks. Tell Theseus thank you from me,’ I said as I popped it into my clutch.
‘So,’ he sipped his drink, his eyes lifted to mine again; violence danced around him like a promise as unease clawed at my gut. ‘Your passport.’
Shit, I was so busted.
I took a breath. ‘Fine. It’s fake. I’m rich. I’m hiding. My psycho, ultra-wealthy ex-husband doesn’t take ‘no’ well, so I’m incognito. Hoping he’ll lose interest if I stay gone long enough.’
I sipped my drink again, then lifted my chin. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’ I said sharply, lifting my chin and holding his enigmatic gaze.
‘Very well. If I find out you are lying, the consequences you face will not be pleasant… Amelia. I assume you are called Amelia?’ He asked in a low tone, a tone made of nightmares—born of dark dreams and wickedness.
He seemed to stare into my soul again, and that stare made my bones wobble.
I nodded mutely as shivers of apprehension snaked up my spine, causing the small hairs to rise all over my body.
Gods help me.
He stood, put on his jacket, and offered his arm. ‘Then let’s eat.’ I placed my glass down, stood on shaking legs, and slipped my arm through his.
Holy shitballs, Batman… I could knife myself for agreeing to this job.