Page 2 of Centurion

Ronnie bent backward and unhooked her heel from the draping of her skirt, looking up just in time to see the group of Russians walking her way. Con’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. “Fuck, that’s Abrasha?—”

Ronnie grabbed his cheeks, pulled him down to her, and planted a kiss on his lips. It was the only thing she could think of to shut Con up. After his momentary surprise, Con’s arms tightened around her, and he took over the kiss. God above, he could kiss. Ronnie let her hands drop to his shoulders. She heard the Russians walk past them, then she pulled away, breaking one of the best kisses she’d ever had the pleasure of receiving.

Con stared down at her, and the heat in his eyes fueled her lust as much as that kiss had. She put her arms around him and whispered, “How do you know what he looks like?” Ronnie glanced around him because she was too short to see over his shoulder, even in her four-inch heels. “They’re going across the dance floor. Come on, dance me over to where they are.” She grabbed Con’s hand, and he followed. She turned to him, and he led her into a Viennese Waltz. She followed his lead, and they circled the dance floor.

“Centurion, status.”

“Con recognized the target.”

Con’s eyes scanned the crowd, and he subtly changed his direction and moved them closer to the group of Russians now walking outside the dance floor in the direction of where the hostess was holding court.

“He would. We just finished a mission where we almost got the bastard.” Joseph sounded begrudging when he admitted that. “What in the hell is he doing there?”

Ronnie listened to the conversation going on in her ear. “They want to know why you’re here.”

Con kept them on a whirling circuit, following the group of men acting nonchalant but making a direct line toward the other side of the grand hall. “A family obligation,” Con said as he twirled and led them through the crowded floor. “I’d ask what you’re doing here, but as I saw your target, it would be redundant.” He glanced down at her. “What can I do to help?”

“Tell him to leave,” Joseph rasped out.

“No, don’t. He’s seen Abrasha. Ask him if he’s certain,” Archangel countered his brother’s directive.

“Are you sure about your ID of the target?” Ronnie whispered to Con.

Con nodded. “I’d bet my life on it. Did you count five men with him?”

“Six,” she replied. “One trailing by about ten feet but always shadowing. The bodyguards would have stopped him if he wasn’t with the group.”

The men stopped walking forward. They were on the corner of the dance floor. “Shit.” Ronnie could feel the tension in the group.

“What’s going on?” Joseph demanded.

Con spun her in and out of the couples on the dance floor. “Have they spotted us?”

“No, but they stopped. Something’s about to go down. I just don’t know what.”

She twisted as he turned her to keep her eyes on the group of men. They weren’t looking toward the dance floor but rather to the area to the right of where the hostess was located. “Jewell, to the right of the hostess. Far corner. That area is holding their attention.” Ronnie felt the direction change as Con moved them toward that corner. The music changed to a Tango, and they stopped dancing. Con escorted her off the floor. He took two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and handed her one while putting his arm around her.

“Got it. Hold on, running facial rec on those without a mask,” Jewell replied.

“Jackie! Jackie, there you are.” Ronnie stopped in her tracks and turned around as their hostess made her way to them. Sophia sighed. “Oh, please take those horrid masks off. I’ve had such a time tonight trying to identify people—my mistake for insisting on a masquerade ball. You shouldn’t hide such a beautiful face. This place is literally dripping with eligible bachelors, my dear. I know you’re career-minded, but marrying above your class isn’t something to sneeze at, you know.”

Ronnie blinked at the woman’s comments as she removed her mask. She wanted nothing more than to get back to her mission. Instead, she was listening to the woman demean her. How wonderful. “I wanted to tell you my gown is the talk of the gala. I’m so glad I decided to invite you on a last-minute whim. I’ll introduce you to several ladies who’ve expressed an interest in having you design their gowns. You can thank me for the large commissions later.” Sophia looked over at Con, and Ronnie could see the distaste in her gaze. She was absolutely positive she detested the woman before; now, her distaste was cemented. “I didn’t know you and Mr.Solomon knew each other.”

Conner bent at the waist in acknowledgment. “Sophia, you look amazing as always.” Conner turned to look at her. “We met almost a year ago on an island getaway. I believe you were there for work, right?”

“I was.” Ronnie hurriedly changed the subject. “I’d love to meet the ladies, Sophia, but I was just heading off the dance floor to freshen up. Can I circle back in about ten minutes or so?” She used her free hand to fan herself.

“Absolutely. Conner, tell your mother I’m terribly upset she couldn’t make it or at least send your older brother.”

Ronnie feltthatverbal slap as if a Louisville slugger had delivered it. Damn, that was rude. But Conner only chuckled. “I’m sorry as well, and I’ll be sure to let her know you’re disappointed in the family representation.”

Sophia’s eyebrow raised. “I didn’t mean to offend you, of course.”

Bullshit.Ronnie knew how snide the woman was from her interactions while designing the dress.

“No, of course not.” Conner smiled politely. “If you’ll excuse us?” He put his arm around Ronnie’s waist and moved them away from the hostess.

“Bitch,” Jewell said in her earpiece.

---