Page 18 of Twin Deception

Within reach, inches parting us, I was treated to how fucking sexy and gorgeous she was. Under the shadows of the club, only streaks and intermittent rays of light revealed her. The back and forth between darkness and colored illumination gave her a mysterious appearance, made her more of an enigma, more of a challenge to puzzle out and understand.

And wasn’t that a delight? I relished the chance to get closer yet and really figure out who this rebellious artist was.

“Found you,” I said as a greeting, watching her slow her movements.

She stopped short at my standing there. Ignoring the men still encouraging her to dance with them, she stared at me. For a long, full moment, nothing else mattered. The pounding music fell to the background. The lights, the mass of people, even the mixed scents of too many sources of perfume, cologne, and body odor. It all ceased to faze me.

Locking my eyes on this rare woman, this unique target I couldn’t get out of my mind, I let myself zone out and focus on nothing but her. The longer she watched me, the more this intangible yet potent tug tightened between us.

I wasn’t merely drawn to her. I was becoming addicted and lured to fall deeper under the spell of her presence.

“Not for the first time, huh?” she replied in the sexiest, sassiest tone I’d ever heard. Even her voice would turn me on. Not high-pitched and whiny. Not too low and deep. Something in the middle. Something so perfect I knew she would be the only woman to ever captivate me like this.

One of the strangers noticed that she wasn’t dancing with them anymore. The idiot made the mistake of reaching his arm out to snake around her waist. He didn’t complete the action of pulling her back closer to him and his friend so they could sandwich her. Before I could move his hand away and shoot him a look that warned him to never think about touching her again, she thrust her arm down and glowered at him.

Stepping closer to me, she distanced herself from them. Then as she returned her gaze to me, walking forward and forcing me to backpedal, lest I let her crash into me and fall intomyarms, she started a slow smile. A knowing, curious smile.

I heard what she’d said, but I couldn’t make this easy.

“What do you mean?” I asked as she danced again.

She wasn’t used to the clubbing scene. I could tell. While she could manage dancing and moving her body to the music, she lacked the finesse and practiced knowhow the other women had. Isabel didn’t seem bothered if she couldn’t dance like all the others, and that confidence was sexy as hell. It hardly mattered if she knew how to move like everyone else. She could do the goddamn Macarena and make it a sensual show.

“You found me all day.” She licked her lips as she checked me out. Even this perusal wasn’t ordinary. Women made it no secret when they found me attractive, but having Isabel’s eyes on me felt different. It felt better. It felt like I wanted her to never look away.

Moving with her body, becauseIhad moves where she didn’t, I stepped even closer to stay with her. Having a conversation in a club like this was a fool’s errand. The music thumped deafeningly loud. People talked over it. She raised her voice to be heart, but as I leaned in more and danced so our bodies were almost completely flush, I could slant toward her ear and talk without yelling.

“I did?”

Playing dumb was normally a waste of time, but occasionally, the tactic had a purpose. Right now, I had no clue what mystrategy was with her. All I knew was that I had to stall and drag this out to have as much time with her as possible.

She nodded, keeping her head close to mine as we danced. Sliding against me and grinding near my hips, she proved that she wasn’t running away.

If she’d noticed me watching or following her, that should’ve been the first thought in her mind—to run.

That she hadn’t confusedandthrilled me.

“At my hotel. At the museum. At the bus tour…” She pulled back enough to give me a look I could only decipher as intrigue.

“And back at your hotel again,” I added.

“Why?”

I couldn’t get over the shock that she wasn’t shy. That she wasn’t telling me to fuck off for following her.

“Why not?” I asked in reply.

Daring her was too much fun. Rising to the challenge of mischief burning in her eyes was too damn exciting.

I wanted to be annoyed that she’d noticed me watching her. Ishouldhave been pissed that I was making myself obvious. I never slacked like this. Paying attention to the details was how I stayed alive. I was a master at hiding. A professional at stalking. A legend at hunting down my targets and eliminating them. It was how I could justify the astronomical fees I collected for my services. I delivered, and I did my job well.

Except, apparently, when it came to the luscious and lovely Isabel Flores.

Getting mad at myself wouldn’t do me any good. And it wasn’t like I had to stop and wonder why I’d slacked, how I might have been slightly too obvious in following her. I’d been distracted by her. I was even more distracted by her now, smelling the jasmine wafting from her, the warmth of her body wrapped in that coral dress.

Instead of internally groaning at her calling me out for following her, I had to respect that she’d noticed at all. No one else would’ve picked up on the fact that a professional assassin for the Cartel was tailing them. But she had. Isabel was a mystery to me, an artist who bore no similarity to the deviants and morons who were usually my targets. She wasn’t a wealthy socialite, either. But she was observant, and I respected that. Hell, I admired that trait.

“Why not?” she asked, tossing my question back at me.

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