Page 56 of Power Twist

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What doesone wear when attending a secret meeting potentially with the dictator of a human rights-violating country? Dress or pants? Tough decision.

“I suggest wearing something that you can run in easily.”

Looking over my shoulder, I stick my tongue out at Trey before turning back to my two choices.

“So that's a no on the dress, then, because the only shoes that match are four-inch heels. But,” I say, picking up the stilettos and inspecting the spiked heel, “these could be used as a weapon in a pinch.”

“Let's hope it doesn’t come to us needing to use your shoes as a weapon tonight. If we're at that point, I'd venture to say we're fucked.”

That leaves the black leather leggings, black booties, and black off-the-shoulder sweater. Still facing the clothes, I smirk and let the long soft robe slide off my shoulders to puddle around my feet.

“You're cruel,” Trey practically growls behind me.

“What?” I respond innocently as I slide the sweater over my head. The hem falls just below the crease where my ass and thighs meet, the perfect length for leggingsandto tease.

Turning on my heels, I face Trey. Both his hands grip the doorframe as he leans into the walk-in closet, blocking the only exit. My skin heats beneath his stare. Starting at my toes, he scans up my legs, pausing at the junction between my thighs and licking his lips. The air heats in the closet, making the light sweater suddenly too warm, too itchy against my sensitive skin.

“Tease,” he says with no bite behind it. “Now stop trying to distract me.” The heat behind his eyes simmers, leaving behind cold determination. “We leave in fifteen.” The wooden doorframe cracks at the force of his arms shoving off. “Oh, and Mess? Do me a favor tonight.”

A single dark brow arches up my forehead in question.

“Don't do anything stupid.”

I huff a scoff. “Who, me?”

With a shake of his head, he turns and walks away, leaving me alone in the closet once again. Without his distractions, I make quick work of tugging on the leggings, then the boots. After a hasty once-over in the mirror, I head out to meet the guys in the living room.

I pull up short at the entry, brows furrowed as I scan the quiet room where each of the agents stands strategically at the exits and windows.

“Something wrong?” I ask. Worry gnaws in my gut at their severe behavior. “You guys seem so serious.”

“This is.”

“I didn't mean it like that, T. It's just—”

“Let’s move,” he orders, cutting me off midsentence. Three agents file out into the hall with me, Trey and T hot on their heels while another four agents follow behind.

Five of us step into the waiting elevator before the door closes, leaving the other five on the presidential suite's floor. Tension pulses in the small space. Heat from so many bodies builds, making me light-headed. The tips of my fingers graze down Trey's suit jacket before gripping the cuff for stability. His concerned eyes flick down to me.

I shake my head in response. Damn, when was the last time I ate? Just as the thought crosses my mind, Trey's eyes narrow and his lips purse like he heard.

“I'll be fine,” I murmur, attempting to keep my weakness between us two. “You don't happen to have a Snickers on you, do you?”

Something dark flashes behind his eyes as he shakes his head.

“We need to reschedule,” Trey states loudly, his gaze never leaving mine.

“No,” I retort, letting go of the soft material of his jacket to cross both arms over my chest. “I'm fine. This needs to happen tonight. The suspense is killing me.” My joke falls flat as every set of eyes turns to me. Swallowing, I look down to the decorative tile beneath our feat. “Poor choice of words?”

“Yes,” the four men say in unison.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

A sharp ding echoes in the elevator just before the doors slide open. The loud sounds of the busy lobby filter in, shattering the building awkwardness. Three agents wait for us, one holding the door open as we file out. Again they surround me, offering protection from every angle as we march through the lobby and out the front doors. The moment I step outside, an agent tugs the limo's door open, waiting for me to climb in.

The limo door shuts behind, Trey sealing us inside. My knees bob up and down as I chew on a pinkie nail. I'm not so crazy to have thought this wouldn't be scary, but hell if I knew it would be this intense. The seriousness of what we’re doing, where we're going, and who we're meeting with settles like a weight in my empty stomach. I press the heel of my palm against my lower abs, hoping to quell the gnawing of my insides.

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