Page 7 of The Art of You

I dipped my chin, focusing on her eyes. “Oh, you can read me that well, can you?” That came out entirely too flirty. I was on a motherfucking roll tonight of whatnotto say to and do around my best friend’s sister.

She nodded in response, then licked her lips, continuing to test my patience. To test my willpower to abstain from driving my fingers into her thick hair and fisting it while dropping my mouth over hers.

She rotated her hips, keeping hold of my tie while knocking her pelvis into my crotch.

I shot her a stern look.Fucking naughty.

At some point, I deserved to be sainted. Or knighted. Or whatever the hell it was called when a man had temptation in his face 24/7, but still behaved himself.

“You know how many times Bianca and I watchedGhost?”

I had no idea where her question came from, but it was very much like Bella to pluck random topics from the air and turn them into conversation centerpieces. But then it clicked. The song playing was “Unchained Melody” from theGhostsoundtrack.

“Thought that movie was from my generation, not yours.” Unlike her, I grew up in the ’80s, and I needed to remember that ten-year age gap as yet another reason not to give in to whatever I’d been feeling lately.

“Pretty sure it belongs to all generations.” She finally let go of my tie, sighing.“Don’t worry. My sister waited until I was old enough to let me watch it.” Still dancing in place, bumping into my crotch again as some cruel form of punishment, she continued her story, “I’m also pretty sure ninety percent of the population had a crush on Patrick Swayze back in the day. I know I did.” Her soft, slightly nervous laugh managed to penetrate my suit jacket. It rolled right over my skin, and a strange feeling of some-fucking-thing flew up my spine. “You give off the same vibes as him.”

I had no idea what that meant, so I kept quiet.

“But can youdirtydance like him?” She lifted her brows a few times.

To be honest, just dancing like this with her was making me forget why we were at a fifteen-million-dollar home in Scarsdale. Forget lives were on the line if everything didn’t play out perfectly tonight. Of course, the two of us didn’t have to do much more than just exist at this time and in this space for the operation to unfold as planned.

And now I was tempted to sling her arms over my shoulders, slip my hand behind her back, and show her I could dance like Swayze. Not only would that make front-page headlines and give my father’s campaign manager a heart attack, but it’d also give Bella the wrong idea about us.

“You changed movies on me. Thought we were talking aboutGhost,” I deflected before I also forgot we could only ever be friends and colleagues. Before I gave in to desire, creating heart attacks and heartbreak.

“Guess neither now, because the song changed.” A cute, lopsided smile stole over her lips. “But Elvis is playing, so if you’d like to move your hips like him, I’ll happily back up and give you the floor to do so.” She batted her lashes a few times, and the Bella I’d known for years was front and center, a stark contrast to the nervous woman I’d found on the other side of her bedroom door tonight.

She was sweet, funny, charming, and for the past several months, a motherfucking tease to my senses. Quite literally, all of them.

Sight: The woman was an Italian goddess, so that one was easy.

Smell: The medley of perfumes she rotated between each day of the week. Of course, she never stuck to one. But she always smelled so good I had to fight the temptation to sniff her wrist or kiss the side of her neck.

Hearing: As already established, her laugh.

Taste: She’d kissed me for “the sake of a mission” in Rome, and I’d been savoring that memory ever since.

Touch: Did now count? Having her in my arms.

Intuition: That unspoken sixth sense—knowing I’d only break her heart if I threw logic out the window—intervened and pulled me away from her, ending the dance.

“You okayyy?” She’d repackaged my question to her outside the Porsche by tacking on her typical dramatic flair.

Constantine popped over the comms in our ears as if on cue, letting us know he had eyes on us.

The moment fully broken, I immediately stepped back from her as she gently shoved away from my chest.

Our comms were currently muted, so I searched out the camera on the ceiling and gave him a nod, acknowledging him.

Eyes back on Bella, I answered her with a partial truth. “I’m fine. I just need a drink.” I leaned in and mouthed, “You know, for the sake of appearances.” I followed up my words with a wink, hoping she wouldn’t see right through me. To realize that ever since that kiss in Rome I’d been on the verge of losing control when she was near me.

“Okay.” She smiled, then requested, “Aperol spritz for me, please.”

We made our way to the cash bar that overlooked the lit-up courtyard outside, where a few men in suits were gathered, smoking cigars and probably discussing their stock portfolios.

After handling Bella’s order, I set my sights on the bottle of Macallan Scotch, hating myself for having the same taste as my father, but not enough to stop myself from asking for a double. Neat, just like the governor liked. Not that I planned to indulge, given I was working.

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