12. Amala
Twelve
Amala
The Bureau had booked the hotel room under an alias, while Nicolas waited downstairs in the parking lot, posing as our chauffeur for the evening.
I couldn’t remember when my life had taken such a drastic turn.
There was a time when you couldn’t have paid me to willingly associate with Valiente. Now, I’d been forced into his orbit, and he’d been shoved into mine.
The man could’ve passed for the plague.
An infectious disease lingering in the air, slowly invading my system with every breath I took.
While he changed into his formal attire in the bathroom, I dressed quickly in the bedroom, determined to avoid an accidental flashing incident. The last thing I needed was for him to walk out while I stood here half-naked.
Ten minutes passed. Then another and my patience finally snapped.
I marched toward the bathroom and pounded my fist against the door.
“Hurry up, princess. We haven’t got all night.” I huffed.
The lace lining my corset itched against my skin, only adding to my growing irritation.
I raised my fist to knock again, but the door swung open.
Ares strolled out as though we were preparing for an ordinary evening together rather than going undercover to investigate a potentially dangerous criminal organisation.
His gaze swept over me once before he adjusted his cufflinks and walked past.
The burgundy shirt beneath his charcoal-grey suit matched my dress perfectly.
From an outsider’s perspective, we probably looked like the quintessential power couple.
The thought alone made me want to scream.
Every day, I contemplated asking Asher for a transfer. I wouldn’t have cared if it came with a demotion.
How long could I realistically work alongside this man before I finally malfunctioned?
Every interaction pushed me closer to the edge.
I stepped into the bathroom and glanced around, searching for something—anything—that could help me with the godforsaken zipper.
Then I spotted the hangers.
Perfect.
Except they were scattered across the bed, and there was no way in hell I was walking out there with my entire back exposed.
“Do you need help with your dress?”
Ares’s voice pulled me from my thoughts and I looked up.
Our eyes met through the mirror making me frown before looking away.
“No. I’m fine.”
He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow raised. The muscles in his arms strained subtly against the fabric of his suit jacket.
“Why do you always have to be so stubborn, Amala?”
His deep voice seemed to linger in the air before settling against my skin and a shiver ran down my spine. My heart rate spiking.
I didn’t understand the reaction and I certainly didn’t appreciate it.
Why the hell was he looking at me like that?
Ares pushed away from the doorway and approached.
He stopped directly behind me, his height towering over mine.
Before I could protest, he gathered my hair in one hand and swept it over my shoulder.
He stood close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.
Too close. I could hear every breath he took.
Feel the faint brush of his fingertips against my skin.
A quiet exhale escaped me before I could stop it.
“Am I stubborn?” I countered, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Or are you simply not accustomed to women who challenge you or refuse your help?”
His fingers caught the zipper and he drew it upward slowly.
“You’re the only woman who challenges me.”
His voice was lower now as he reached the top of the zipper and gave it one final tug, pulling me subtly closer in the process.
“We’re partners,” he said firmly.
His gaze met mine through the mirror.
“The sooner you come to terms with that, the better. You’re only making things more difficult for yourself.”
“Accept it and make things easier for you?” I scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
He studied me for several seconds then his hand came beneath my chin, tilting my head backward.
The sudden movement caught me off guard but I quickly recovered, clearing my throat.
“Get your hand away from me.” I slapped his hand aside.
“You need to change your necklace.” He completely ignored my protest. “There’s a camera hidden in this one.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver necklace, dangling it beside my face.
A deep-red ruby sat at its centre, a silver serpent coiled around the stone.
I reached for it but Ares immediately pulled it out of reach.
“Hold your hair up.” I didn’t move, didn’t comply.
He reached forward, gathered my hair into his fist, and gave it a small tug. “Hold it.”
I hissed, glaring at him through the mirror.
“By the time I’m through with you, you’ll be saying please after every one of your demands.”
The corner of his mouth lifted after my words echoed in the air.
A smug grin.
“Either way, I’ll get what I want, with or without politeness.”
He tugged my hair again, clearly daring me to continue the argument. Clearly, he still hadn’t learned that I wasn’t the type to back down.
I drove my elbow into his stomach and he released a grunt, stumbling back half a step.
Satisfaction coursed through my veins and I lifted my hair, smiling sweetly at him.
He glared at me, one hand clutching his stomach.
“Better?”
His expression promised retaliation but he recovered quickly.
A moment later, his fingers brushed against the back of my neck as he fastened the necklace.
I ground my molars, forcing myself to tolerate the contact.
“We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
He tossed my earpiece onto the bathroom counter. “Don’t forget that.”
Then he turned and walked away.
I slammed the bathroom door behind him and pinched the bridge of my nose.
Tonight was going to be a disaster.
I was honestly surprised we’d managed to work together this long without one of us committing murder.
Then again, Ares wasn’t worth going to prison over.
I stared at my reflection before picking up the earpiece and inserting it into my ear.
Once we activated the small black button, the recording would begin, capturing every conversation within range.
If there was even the slightest indication that anyone in attendance knew our suspects, or knew anything about Dominion, we’d have it recorded.
That was how we’d build our case.
Our objective tonight was simple: gather intelligence.
Because right now, we were operating almost completely in the dark.
We didn’t know who we were looking for.
We didn’t know who could be trusted.
And we certainly didn’t know what we’d find.
The camera hidden inside my necklace would transmit a live feed to our analysts, allowing them to run facial recognition on everyone in attendance.
On paper, it sounded simple. Blend in. Use our aliases.
Engage in casual conversation without drawing attention to ourselves.
Observe. Listen and analyse the room for anything that seemed suspicious.
Simple.
At least, that was the plan.
We arrived at the venue, the sleek black rented Mercedes blended into the darkness of night as Nicolas swerved into the vacant parking spot.
“I’ll be parked down the street. Lay low, listen to anything and everything. Slip-ups happen fast and if you’re in trouble weave 404 into the conversation and we’ll send back up.”
Ares and I nodded, climbing out of the vehicle. “Be safe and please return in one piece,” Nicolas added.
“Your concern for me is extremely heartwarming. I’ll use that as my motivation to return safely.”
Ares said sarcastically and I ignored the urge to roll my eyes.
Expensive, luxury cars were lined up on the street—showcasing just how wealthy these people actually were.
Which definitely raised alarm bells in my head.
What did most of the people do for a living?
Where were they getting these amounts of money?
Ares placed his large hand on the small of my back and my body tensed. “Do you need me to cuff you?” I snapped, looking daggers at him.
“Will that help you keep your hands to yourself?”
“Careful.” He whispered in my ear, sounding calm. Dangerously calm. “I’m certain you wouldn’t want the analysts overhearing this interesting conversation.”
I clutched my purse tightly, hand itching to grab the knife in my thigh holster and plunge it into his eye.
“Your sarcasm could use some work.”
He pulled me closer, knowing I couldn’t do anything about it.
Elite businessmen and women surrounded us as we walked towards the entrance of the building.
“Oh,” He paused to look at me. “You must’ve mistaken my hand on your back for me giving a fuck about your opinion. Trust me, nothing’s changed. I’m just doing my job.”
“Oh,” I mocked him. “You hardly do your job thoroughly in any case so I assumed you required some pointers.”
He laughed softly, observing our surroundings.
His fingertips dug into my skin before he slid his large hand around my waist and forced my body disgustingly closer to his.
At this point, I didn’t know where he ended and I began.
“If I were to accept pointers from anyone, it wouldn’t be you.” We smiled and nodded at the concierge as we entered the building.
This quality made us good agents, the ability to continue with our facade despite wanting to kill each other.
I turned to look at him, the smile still gracing my face. “Mi amor.”
The sarcastic term of endearment made his eye twitch and I relished the expression.
“That’s why your coworkers aren’t fond of working with you. Perhaps if you learned to accept criticism you’d be a better agent.”
We came to a standstill and he gripped my chin, gently yet firmly.
His touch sickened me but I didn’t display my disdain.
“Mi corazón.” He mimicked my tone, leaning in to speak directly into my ear.
“The day I care about anything my coworkers think of me is the day hell freezes over. Fuck them.”
He released me as if touching me both disgusted and burned him simultaneously then disappeared among the crowd.
I stood there, glaring in his direction—trying to make sense of the altercation that just transpired between us.