Page 14 of Turmoil's Target

The air is thick with the scent of perfume and sweat, the bass of the music reverberating through my chest.

Jolt nudges me with his elbow, his voice low. “You got a photo of this chick? I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”

I pull out my phone, swiping through until I find the picture I’d managed to snag of Seraphina.

I tilt the screen toward Jolt, watching as his eyebrows raise in appreciation.

“Damn, she’s a looker,” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on the image. “You sure we’re in the right league here, Turmoil?”

I snort, pocketing my phone. “Since when have you ever backed down from a challenge, Jolt?”

He grins, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. “Fair point. So, what’s the plan?”

I consider for a moment, my mind racing through the possibilities.

We need to get close to Seraphina, to gain her trust. And the best way to do that?

“You go for the friend,” I say, my voice firm with conviction. “Keep her occupied, distracted. I’ll focus on Seraphina.”

Jolt nods, his expression serious. “You got it, brother. Operation Billionaire Heiress is a go.”

We clink our glasses together, a silent toast to our impending success.

I down the rest of my whiskey, the cold liquid soothing my throat.

Game on, Seraphina Bernard. Game on.

Jolt and I stay at the bar for almost an hour, slowly nursing our whiskeys.

I drain the last of my third whiskey, the buzz of alcohol thrumming pleasantly through my veins.

Jolt’s still nursing his drink, his gaze scanning the crowded club with a practiced eye.

Suddenly, he stiffens beside me, his elbow jabbing into my ribs. “Heads up. Your target just walked in.”

I follow his line of sight, my heart rate kicking up a notch as I spot her.

Seraphina Bernard, in the flesh.

She’s even more stunning in person, her golden hair catching the flashing lights of the club, her lithe body clad in a dress that looks like it costs more than my bike.

Beside her walks another woman, pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way.

Trailing a few feet behind them, a burly man with the unmistakable air of a bodyguard.

I smile to myself. “Showtime, brother. Stick to the plan.”

Jolt nods, his jaw set with determination. “I got your back. Go get her, tiger.”

I push off from the bar, weaving my way through the throng of dancers.

My eyes never leave Seraphina, tracking her movements as she and her friend make their way to a VIP booth in the corner.

I time my approach perfectly, angling my body just so.

As I pass by her, I stumble slightly, my shoulder colliding with Seraphina’s in a calculated bump.

“Whoa, sorry about that,” I say, my voice laced with just the right amount of sheepish charm. “Guess I don’t know my own strength sometimes.”

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