Page 29 of Web of Lies
I stop in front of the mirror, setting my belongings on the counter. The reflection looking back at me is a stranger. I recognize my face and hair, as well as each little freckle, forming a familiar map that confirms my identity. Everything else, however, is completely foreign. A shiny dress clings to my body, pushing up my breasts and highlighting all my curves. I look beautiful, that's for sure, but this polished attire is simply not me.
Looking down at my arms, I twist them and check my elbows for any patches of missing foundation. But everything looks flawless, and not a speck of ink is peeking through.
This is my least favorite part of working alongside the boss. When you're with him, you always have to look your absolute best. Sometimes that means covering your tattoos because, for some snobby rich folks, they're still an unwelcome sight. After checking my shoulders, hands, and thighs one last time, I reach into my purse and pull out my lipstick. I lean closer to the mirror, bring the tube to my mouth, and slide it across my lips, painting them a bright red.
I rub my lips together, then release them with a pop. With that, I take a step back and let my gaze wander over my full figure once more before deciding that everything looks perfect.
Without another glance, I grab my things, head to the elevator, scan my badge, step inside, and press the button for the ground floor. My gaze drifts to the number pad above the door, which counts down each floor.
As soon as the elevator reaches the ground floor, the familiar ring echoes through the room, and the doors slide open. I step out and head straight for the exit. The glass doors open to reveal Mr. Hunt and Ethan Reid—one of our best men and one of Hunt's go-to bodyguards—standing by the car, engaged in conversation. At the sound of my heels tapping against the pavement, both men turn their heads in my direction and size me up.
"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," I say as I walk up to them.
"No need to apologize, Riley," Mr. Hunt says, extending his arm to me, which I accept by curling one arm around his and burying my fingers in the soft fabric of his jacket. "If you don't mind me being blunt, you look gorgeous," he says with a hint of a smile.
"Thank you," I mutter, grateful for my heavy makeup, which hides the hot flush climbing up my neck and spreading across my cheeks.
"Everyone ready?" Ethan asks and steps aside, giving the already open backdoor free.
"Yes," I say, offering Ethan a smile.
He nods and throws Mr. Hunt one last look before circling the hood of the car and sliding into the driver's seat. Meanwhile, Mr. Hunt guides me to the car, takes my laptop bag and purse, and holds my hand as I slide into the backseat. He returns my belongings to me before climbing in after me and pulling thedoor shut. Shortly after, Ethan starts the engine and merges into traffic.
I pull my laptop out of its bag, set it on my lap, and start clicking through the settings, making sure everything's ready to go.
"Everything looks good?" Mr. Hunt asks, and I glance up from the screen to look at him. He's sitting lazily in his seat with one arm propped against the window of the door, his eyes focused on my laptop.
"Yes. Everything's working, the connections are stable, and the night should go smoothly. No one will even notice we're there," I say with a smile.
"Wonderful. Thank you, Riley," he replies with that soft, fatherly smile of his. "Sometimes I don't know what I'd be doing without you." I turn my focus back to the laptop.
"You'd have someone else in my place, Boss."
"Indeed," he says. "But so far, I haven't come across anyone as skilled as you. In your first year alone, you single-handedly made the company safer."
"It was my pleasure. After all, you picked me up off the street. Who knows where I'd be today." I offer him a smile through the lie. I hate thinking back to that time. Our first meeting was a carefully crafted trap for Mr. Hunt, and he walked right into it. He'd been desperate to replace his old IT team after a massive hack of the company. Fortunately, the hacker back then only gained access to the public persona of the company. But even that small leak caused major damage. Some files hinted at a connection between Hunt Corp. and the unsolved deaths and disappearances of former clients who had hired them for protection. As a result, Mr. Hunt and his siblings were dragged into court. Luckily for them, Hunt Corp.'s legal team includes some of the best lawyers in the country, and within days, the charges were dismissed.
My gaze snaps away from my laptop when Mr. Hunt's large hand settles over mine, which is still resting on the mouse pad. The warmth of his touch eases the tension in my muscles. "Are you ready?" he asks, his voice softer now. "I know it's been a while since you've done this."
I look up at him, meeting his gaze. For a moment, the rest of the world quiets. "Yes, because you're by my side. I know nothing's going to happen to me."
"Exactly," he says, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. "Ethan and I will make sure you're safe."
I hold on to Mr. Hunt's arm as he leads me through the lavishly decorated entrance of the clean-cut company building in Manhattan. My fingers clutch my purse, in which the NFC skimmer is tucked away.
"Would you like something to drink?" he asks.
"Yes, please." I tighten my grip on his arm as we approach a server carrying a tray of drinks. He grabs two glasses of champagne and hands me one. "Thank you," I say, taking a small sip while studying the crowd.
Everyone here drips with wealth and is trying a little too hard to impress one another. It's not a large event, just a select group of people, but the guests are carefully chosen to make the event feel important. But, like most of these parties, it's nothing more than networking disguised as a celebration of some supposed milestone. I've been on a handful of jobs like this over the years, and I've never enjoyed them. But sometimes, they're unavoidable. Nights like this require a personal touch. Typically, one of the girls who carry out hits would handle this part. They're better suited for it and more accustomed to playingMr. Hunt's escort. They also blend in with these crowds more naturally than I do. However, they were busy or unavailable tonight, leaving me with no choice but to jump in.
Hunt guides me around the party, greeting familiar faces of business partners and clients. He chats with them while I play his companion. Ever since his divorce, this has been an easy role to fill. With his newfound freedom, he now blends in with all the other men who bring their young mistresses or escorts to these events. Everyone simply assumes that a divorced, attractive, and influential man in his forties is enjoying the company of beautiful women.
I pull my eyes away from Mr. Hunt, who is busy pitching his services as a security firm to a potential client. My gaze drifts over the glittering crowd as I scan faces until I find our target deep in conversation on the far side of the room.
"Please excuse me for a minute." I tug my arm out of Hunt's grasp and take a step back. "I'll be right back," I murmur.
Hunt glances down at me and nods in quiet approval. I set my empty glass on a passing server's tray and head toward Malcolm Dalton, CEO and host of this event. He's deep in conversation with someone near the center of the room.
