Page 6 of Daddy's Little Spy

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The shoes pinched, the baubles swinging from her ears cost more than she made in a week, and she was starving because she was worried the dress would rip open if she so much as breathed too hard. But she couldn’t deny she looked damn good. And the earrings had called to her, a weakness she hadn’t even known she’d had until she’d spotted them. She was surprised her credit card hadn’t caught fire when the sales lady had swiped it.

A knock on the door jolted her out of contemplation of her reflection and with a final check in the too-small purse for her gun, phone, and the little bit of cash she’d decided to take with her, she strode to the front door. The man standing on her doorstep had her heart skidding to a stop. Tall enough to stand eye-to-eye with her five-ten frame even in the needle-thin heels she’d forced herself into for the night, every inch of him screamed sophistication.

And danger. Her instincts went on high alert as her gaze took in his features, which seemed to be carved from stone. Eyes so dark they were nearly black met hers, flat and carefully blank.

Benito Rinaldi, first cousin to Emilio Rinaldi, and the latter’s right-hand man since before Emilio had taken over the family business. His father had served the same purpose for Emilio’s father, until his death just over five years ago. That was about the time Emilio’s father had retired somewhere in Italy. Rumor was he’d taken the loss of his brother incredibly hard, and he’d happily handed the family business over to his only son.

“Ms. Sullivan?” A voice as rich and smooth as the finest coffee cut through the panic threatening to overtake her.

“Ah, yes. And you are?”

Although his mouth lifted into a smile, there was nothing polite or welcoming about it. Only her years of training kept her from shivering visibly when the chill ran down her spine.

“I’ll be your driver for the evening. Miss Amara is waiting for you in the car.”

Shit. She hadn’t planned on Amara riding with her. There went any chance at using the car ride to settle her jangling nerves. “I wasn’t expecting her.” Stepping onto the front step, she pulled the door shut behind her.

“Yes, well. She was very excited to see you again. You seem to have made quite the impression.” Slender, surprisingly strong fingers cupped her elbow, guiding her down the front steps in a gesture that tiptoed the line between gentlemanly and commanding. Electricity seemed to zip from his fingertips down her arm, setting her skin on fire.

It’s a trap. Call someone, you idiot! Ignoring her screaming instincts, she smiled up at him in what she hoped passed for a flirtatious manner. “And have I made an impression on you, Mr…?”

“Everyone calls me Benny,” he answered, openly ignoring her question as he opened the back door of the long, sleek town car and helped her inside.

“Diana!” Amara’s husky voice filled the car as the door snapped shut, closing them in. “So glad you could make it! Your house is adorable. Not what I expected, but it has a quaint charm to it. Oh, and you look fabulous. Is that a Mackenzie Robinson?”

“Ah, yes.” That was what the lady at the store had said, right? Or was that one of the other twenty dresses she’d tried on? “I couldn’t resist picking up something new for tonight.” There, that sounded like something a fancy lady would say, right?

“Well, you look stunning. I think you’ll love the show tonight. It’s all about love and betrayal. People pretending to be something they’re not and getting others killed in the process.”

Was it her overactive imagination or was Amara making a point? Diana pushed the paranoia to the back of her mind and smiled at her host for the evening. “Thank you again for inviting me. I haven’t had a night out like this in years.”

“You are so welcome. Here,” Amara pushed a glass of champagne into her hand. “To the start of a beautiful friendship.”

Heart pounding, they clinked their glasses together and Diana took a small sip. The tart bubbles danced on her tongue and she debated the wisdom of draining the glass.

“So, Diana. Tell me more about your business. Have you ousted the traitor yet?”

Okay. She could play this game. It wasn’t the first time she’d been locked in a battle of wills with a deadly opponent.

“Not yet.” She met Amara’s icy gaze head on. “He’s slippery. And I haven’t ruled out the idea that he’s working with someone high up the food chain.”

Amara’s lips curved up in a wickedly sharp smile. “And if he is? Are you going to bring the whole thing to its knees?”

“If I have to.”

The air in the car turned thick, making it difficult to breathe. But she held Amara’s gaze until the other woman grinned and raised her glass again. “Get ‘em tiger. I appreciate a woman who isn’t afraid to take on The Man.”

Lifting her glass, Diana toasted again, allowing herself a deeper pull of the gold liquid. Anything to settle her jangling nerves. Despite Amara’s strange behavior, there was no way she could have made Diana. She’d carefully covered her tracks, even set up an online presence for Diana Sullivan that would pass a cursory background check. As long as her new friend didn’t dig too deep, there was no reason for her to suspect anything.

Amara had polished off two glasses of champagne to Diana’s single glass by the time the car rolled to a stop. A moment later, the door opened and there was Benito Rinaldi again, sin and temptation in the flesh, holding his hand out to help her out of the car.

Even bracing herself, she nearly gasped at the shock of his touch. When she looked up, he was frowning down at their hands, and she allowed herself a moment of smug satisfaction at the knowledge that she wasn’t the only one affected.

The moment passed, and his expression went blank again, at least until he pulled Amara from the car. A small, indulgent smile played at his lips.

“One more drink inside. You know how your — ah,” his gaze slid to Diana, then back to Amara, “how Emilio feels about you overindulging.”

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