Chapter 12
twelve
As expected, Stavros had extended the invitation to the wine tasting last night at dinner, and Vivi accepted on behalf of both herself and Dom without so much as a pause.
Of course she did. It gave them their first credible shot at the corridor and, hopefully, the access point they’d mapped in the blueprints.
She put on the white silk dress she’d found in the suitcase Raines had packed for her, the one with a plunging neckline and a back that barely existed. It annoyed her that not only was it one of her designs from last summer’s line, but it also fit as if it were tailored for her.
She took her time with the makeup, more than she usually would, then stepped into a pair of heels that made her legs look endless.
When she checked the mirror, her hair fell in loose, summery waves, the highlights catching the low gold of the late afternoon sun.
She looked like the successful fashion designer she was: expensive, unbothered, and like she’d never in her life crawled through a duct to bypass a biometric lock.
Dom whistled when she walked out of the bedroom. “Jesus, Viv. You trying to kill someone, or just me?”
She let her mouth curl at the corner. “They said dress for the occasion. You should try it.”
“I did,” he said, tugging the collar of his navy linen shirt.
It was open at the throat, sleeves rolled.
The fit drew the eye to his powerful shoulders.
The pants were just as tailored, a soft cream that made him look like a man who played tennis for fun, which was laughable.
But, at least for the next however many days, they had to sell this particular lie.
She didn’t want to notice how good he looked.
Didn’t want to notice that he’d shaved, or that his hair was just messy enough to look unstudied, or that the injury at his temple had faded to a shadow she almost had to squint to see.
She didn’t want to notice any of it, and so of course she noticed all of it, as she picked up her clutch.
It was small, white, and contained nothing useful to anyone except the ceramic pick she’d slipped into the lining that morning. “Don’t flirt with the sommelier.”
“I never flirt with sommeliers.”
“You did in Lyon.”
“That was different. She started it.” He held open the door for her. “Also, she gave us a very good bottle of Puligny-Montrachet, so I’d argue the flirting was strategically sound.”
The tasting was already underway when they arrived, a dozen guests arranged in loose clusters around a long table dressed in white linen, the evening light coming in gold and slanted through the ground-floor loggia doors.
Stavros stood at the far end, talking to two older women.
He caught Vivi’s eye when they entered and lifted his glass slightly in her direction.
Dom took two glasses from the tray near the door and pressed one into her hand without asking. His fingers brushed hers and sent a spark of warmth up her arm. Her nipples tightened at the contact, poking through the silk of her jumpsuit.
Dammit, why did her body react to him like this? She’d never experienced it with any other man—and she’d tried after they ended things. Lord, had she tried. But those other men weren’t Dominic, and her body knew it.
She turned away from him and took a slow sip, letting the crisp white wine coat her tongue. Something light, slightly acidic.
“Showtime,” Dom murmured close to her ear, his breath warm against her neck. “Make the rounds, establish our cover, then we slip away when Stavros is distracted.”
She nodded, then plastered on her most charming smile as a middle-aged man in a linen suit approached.
Over the next twenty minutes, she worked the room like she was born to it, laughing at bland jokes, making small talk about island weather, and discussing fashion design business with a hotel heiress from Nice, which wasn’t a hardship since fashion was her second love after stealing.
She drifted toward the table, let herself be absorbed into a conversation with a Belgian couple who wanted to talk about the volcanic soil, and kept Dom in her peripheral vision as he worked the opposite end of the room.
He was good at this. She’d forgotten how good.
He had the ability to make whoever he was talking to feel like the most interesting person in any given space, and he deployed it with the same easy recklessness he brought to everything in his life.
Eventually, he rejoined her just as Stavros approached.
“When you mentioned a wine tasting at dinner last night, I had no idea we’d be treated to such expertise,” she said, tilting her head with a smile that had convinced far more suspicious men than Stavros to look the other way while she worked. “You’re quite the Renaissance man.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear. Though I suspect you already know that.” Stavros chuckled and touched her elbow lightly. “I simply know what I love, and wine has been a passion for nearly four decades.”
Vivi leaned in conspiratorially. “I heard your cellar rivals some of the finest in Europe.”
“Rumors of my collection have been greatly exaggerated.” His eyes twinkled. “Though perhaps not by much. Would you and your companion care for a more... intimate tour? The truly exceptional vintages never make it to these gatherings.”
Perfect.
“That sounds wonderful,” she said.
“I’d be delighted to show you both.” Stavros offered his arm to Vivi. “The cellar has been in continuous use since the villa was built. Some say it’s older than the property itself.”
Vivi took his arm, feeling Dom fall into step behind them as Stavros led them away from the gathering.
She kept her expression pleasantly interested, asking appropriate questions about vintages and storage conditions as they moved through the main hall toward the back of the villa.
The corridor narrowed as they descended a short flight of stone steps, the temperature dropping noticeably with each step.
“The natural cooling from the cliff face maintains an ideal temperature year-round,” Stavros explained, gesturing to the rough-hewn stone walls. “No need for artificial climate control.”
The cellar opened before them, an expansive space filled with rack after rack of bottles, all meticulously labeled and arranged. The lighting was soft, amber-toned, casting long shadows across the floor. Vivi’s eyes adjusted quickly, scanning the perimeter while appearing to admire the collection.
There. On the far wall. A door that looked like ordinary storage but wasn’t quite right—the hinges too substantial, the frame reinforced in a way that would be imperceptible to anyone who hadn’t spent years studying such details.
The staff vault entrance.
“This Bordeaux,” Stavros said, leading her to a rack near the center of the room, “is from a vineyard that no longer exists. The last vintage before a blight—”
A notification light flashed on his watch. He glanced down, frowned, then looked back at them with an apologetic smile.
“I’m afraid I must attend to something. A minor issue with one of the guests upstairs.” He set down his glass. “Please, continue exploring. The 1982 Chateau Margaux in the corner rack is particularly worth your time. I’ll return shortly.”
Vivi kept her expression neutral even as her pulse quickened. The timing was almost too perfect. She watched Stavros retreat up the stairs, his footsteps fading until they were alone in the vast cellar.
“That was convenient,” she murmured and eyed Dom. “What did you do?”
Dom’s mouth quirked at one corner. “I might have suggested to a certain hotheaded shipping heir that a certain Belgian magnate made disparaging remarks about his family’s business practices. It’s amazing what the words ‘insider trading’ can do when whispered in the right ear.”
Vivi rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. Classic Dom—creating chaos to serve a purpose. “How long do you think we have?”
“Ten minutes, maybe less if Stavros is as good at defusing situations as I think he is.” He was already moving toward the door they’d spotted, his steps silent on the stone floor. “Let’s make it count.”
The sounds from the party above were muffled, distant echoes of laughter and conversation that wouldn’t carry their voices.
Vivi joined him, running her fingers along the seam where the door met the wall. No visible keypad, which meant the access mechanism was either hidden or—
“Biometric,” Dom said, confirming her thought as he located a small, nearly invisible panel beside the frame. “Fingerprint scanner, disguised as part of the stonework.”
“Can you get through it?”
Dom stepped back and studied the door. “I could blow the—”
“Quietly,” she added.
He sighed. “Not as fun, but yeah. I can get in.”
At one time, she trusted him implicitly. When he said he could do something, she absolutely believed him. He had been the best at what he did, and she’d seen him bypass systems far more complex than this one.
But he’d broken that trust.
And now Sabin’s life was at stake.
“You’re sure?”
He turned her to face him. “I can do it, Viv.” His voice was low, serious. “Trust me.”
Trust me.
She’d heard those words from him before, right before everything fell apart.
She opened her mouth to point that out, but the sound of footsteps on the stairs made them both freeze. Heavy, measured steps. Not Stavros.
“Security,” Dom whispered.
Shit. Running would look suspicious. Hiding would look worse if they were caught. They needed a reason to be here, examining this particular section of wall, that wouldn’t raise alarms.
She spun, searching for options. No adjacent rooms, no convenient alcoves, no plausible reason why two wine tasting guests would be standing at a staff-only door in a restricted corridor.
The footsteps grew louder.
A guard would round the corner in seconds.
Oh, damn. She was definitely going to regret this.
She grabbed Dom’s lapel and pulled him toward her, backing herself against the wall beside the door. Dom’s eyes widened for a split second before she slid her hand to the back of his neck and pressed her lips to his.
The shock of contact jolted through her system like electricity. His lips were warm, familiar in a way that made her chest ache. For a split second, he hesitated—surprised—and then his arms came around her, one hand sliding to the small of her back, the other threading into her hair.
Oh, it was good.
Dom tasted like summer, salt, and wine, and he kissed her back like he’d been waiting for this since the last time, like he’d been starving for her.
His hands slid to her hips, holding her steady, pulling her close enough that her back hit the wall with a muted thump.
The jump of adrenaline was instant, white hot, and everywhere.
Vivi felt her body responding despite her brain screaming that it wasn’t a good idea.
But she was hungry and angry, wanting him and wanting to punish him for how much she still wanted him.
She kissed him harder, channeling her frustration into the press of her mouth against his. His hands tightened at her waist, fingers digging into her skin through the thin silk. He groaned against her mouth, a sound so familiar it made her stomach clench with want.
The guard’s footsteps grew closer, then stopped.
“Guests aren’t allowed in this section,” a deep voice said, sounding equal parts annoyed and bored.
“Mmm,” she moaned dramatically, loud enough for the guard to hear, breaking the kiss just long enough to gasp, “I told you we’d get caught.”
Dom caught on immediately. He braced one hand against the wall beside her head and pressed his body against hers. “Worth it,” he growled, and captured her mouth again.
His lips were warm and firm, familiar in a way that made her stomach flutter despite the circumstances.
This was supposed to be an act, nothing more than a cover story—the tipsy couple sneaking away for a quickie—but the press of his body against hers, the scent of his skin, the way his hand slid down to grip her hip all felt dangerously real.
The guard cleared his throat loudly. “Sir. Madam. This is not appropriate.”
Dom broke the kiss and turned to look over his shoulder with the perfect mix of embarrassment and defiance. “Sorry, we just... needed a moment.”
“Yes, yes. Everyone needs a moment.” The guard sounded supremely unimpressed, like he’d dealt with this exact scenario many times before. “But not in this section. Come with me, please.”
Vivi straightened her dress, feigning embarrassment while suppressing a smile. The guard hadn’t questioned why they were there—just assumed they were looking for privacy. Perfect.
“You always get me in trouble,” she whispered to Dom loud enough for the guard to hear. She let her words slur slightly, as if the wine had gone to her head.
Or maybe those few sips she’d taken at the tasting really had gone to her head, because she was all hot and dizzy now.
And aching in places she had no business aching.
“You didn’t seem to mind a minute ago,” Dom replied with a grin that made her want to both slap and kiss him again.
The guard led them not back to the wine tasting, but toward an exit that opened onto the lower terraces. “Fresh air,” he said firmly, holding the door open. “Please stay in the guest areas.”
They stumbled out onto the terrace, Vivi still clinging to Dom’s arm as if she needed the support. The late afternoon sun struck the Aegean at an angle that turned the water to hammered gold. Far below, waves crashed against the base of the cliff with a sound like distant thunder.
The door closed behind them with a definitive click.