Page 12 of Deadly Holiday Kiss

"Because I know what I'm doing," he says, walking past me and reaching for the handle of the door, which turns effortlessly with a twist of his wrist. Then, he glances back at me. "Ready?"

I keep my expression casual, shrugging as if this isn't a game of life and death.

"You lead the way, big guy," I say, and without another word he pushes the door open. My pulse quickens as it swings open, revealing the dark interior of the house. When my eyes land on the man standing in the middle of the small entryway, my breath catches in my throat and I take a frantic step back.

Meanwhile, Ethan remains calm by my side, not drawing his gun. The man's gaze shifts between Ethan and me before settling on him. They both nod at each other with a straight face. Ethan then takes a step to the side, making room for the man to walk outside. For a second he stops beside us and Ethan pulls an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and hands it to him.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Ethan says, and the man nods.

"The pleasure is all mine," he says before stepping off the porch and disappearing into the street without another word.

"What was that?" I ask, looking back at Ethan, my face twisting in confusion, drawing a chuckle from him as his eyes meet mine.

"As I said, his security has been reassigned."

"So they work for you now?"

"For tonight? Yes," he says and steps in front of me, "Let's go." He draws his gun and walks into the dark entrance of the house.

I follow close behind, glued to his back. Although I have killed a fair number of people in the past, this direct and active pursuit is new to me. As a woman, I'm limited in my abilities. Direct combat with a man? Very far down on the list. You have to be sneaky, and as a member of the upper class now, I've met one or two professional killers who are women. Many find solutions like poison or drugs to get their target where they want them, and I may have learned from their stories.

Inside, I take a moment and look around the entryway, my heart pounding in my chest with anticipation. A small chandelier hangs suspended from the ceiling, its crystals catching the dim light filtering in from outside, casting jagged shadows across the hardwood floor. To our left, a flight of stairs spirals up into the darkness. To our right, an open door leads into a dimly lit living room.

"Stay close," he says, his voice a low rumble. I can almost feel the intensity of his gaze as he scans his surroundings with his gun raised, and the sudden shift of professionalism on his part sends a chill down my spine.

I step closer, the warmth radiating from him and the familiar scent of cedar and gunpowder wrapping around me. "Are you sure he's alone now?" I ask, keeping my voice low.

"Positive." Ethan moves forward, gliding through the shadows with an almost predatory ease. "He thinks he's safe at home, like most people. Besides, he still believes that security is guarding the front door."

"Safe? Or stupid?" I raise an eyebrow, following closely behind him. He knows this dance better than I do, so I let him take the lead.

"Stupid," he replies, glancing back at me, his expression having turned deadly serious. "We are taught from childhood that our home is supposed to be safe. And while it provides a certain amount of security, especially with guards around, it doesn't keep out all evil."

Before I can answer, a muffled sound echoes down from above, a dull thud, followed by a faint shuffling.

My heart skips, a sudden surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. "Did you hear that?" I whisper, pointing toward the stairs.

Ethan's eyes narrow, his brow furrowed as he tilts his head to listen. "Yeah. Sounds like he's up there."

"Should we check it out?" I ask, excitement sparking in my chest. There's something intoxicating about the danger of this moment.

"Let's go," he says, and I catch the edge of a grin. He takes the lead, his tall frame blocking the faint light from outside that breaks through the windows as he climbs the stairs.

I follow, my breath quickening with each step. My senses heighten, every detail coming into focus, the faint scent of old wood, the chill in the air; my dark surroundings clear as my vision adjusts fully to the darkness.

At the top of the stairs, he pauses and looks back at me, his eyes serious. "Stay behind me," he instructs.

I roll my eyes, pretending to be annoyed. "Like I'm letting you have all the fun."

He shoots me a glare that suggests he's not in the mood for jokes. A seriousness that makes my heart drop. The playful banter of moments ago is long gone, replaced by an intensity I can’t put into words. We inch forward, the hallway stretching out before us, dark doors lining each side.

Ethan stops in front of me. "Looks like we have two options," he says, and my eyes settle on two doors, with warm light flickering through the cracks at the bottom.

"Which one should we check first?"

"The one closest to us. It's the one that was above us, which means the sound should have come from there. And I wouldn't want anyone to ambush us from behind," he says, approaching the first door cautiously, his movements slow. "Ready?" His voice barely above a whisper.

I nod, my heart pounding against my ribcage, as he reaches for the doorknob and turns it, pushing the door open with a cautious step forward. The hinges creak in protest, revealing a darkened room filled with shadows and the glimmer of light, illuminated by the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. Ethan takes a step inside, revealing the entire room to me. What appears to be an office. It is a mess. Papers are scattered around the room, with folders lying in front of the fireplace, while some burn to ashes inside it.

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