Page 4 of Dirty Gambit

Despite her wanting to be nowhere near Jaxon, him being her primary target forced her to continuously bring herself within his radius without seeming obvious. She timed it in rounds. Each round took five minutes per section. If she kept her pace, the chances of them ending up in the same room were greater. The hardest part was not making eye contact, pretending every nerve in her body wasn’t aware of him entering her space, trying not to shiver when their eyes did meet for the briefest of seconds. It was a game of cat and mouse, and he was winning. She didn’t know how, but he was filling her head with fluffy clouds that obscured everything else. It distracted her from her task, provoking her to make avoidable mistakes like stepping on feet, bumping into the dancers, nearly colliding with another server. A few times, she ducked out of the room he walked into just to catch her breath.

By midnight, the last guest was shown to the door and the house fell into a quiet lull of silence broken only by the clatter of dishes being cleared away and floors being swept. Nicole Westwick hadn’t returned after announcing Jessie’s bedtime, but her husband was still there, giving directions in a kind, authoritative manner. Jaxon was there as well, helping the servers fold away chairs. He’d tossed aside his blazer, a bit of fabric that probably cost more than most people made in a year, and moved around the room with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, exposing the taut, rippling muscles of his forearms. Lena hadn’t thought rippling muscles was a thing that actually existed until she was watching ropes of it bunch and flex across his back and along his arms. The man moved with the purpose and force of someone well versed in labor and had no trouble getting his hands dirty, a fact that hadn’t been in his file.

“What are you doing?” Pablo appeared at her elbow, dark head bent over the task of gathering the picked over remains of the spread. “Why are you just standing here?”

Quickly dropping her gaze to a wooden board of cheese, Lena scooped it up, along with several other random plates. “Don’t talk to me,” she hissed at him before shoving in the direction of the kitchen.

“Put those in individual baggies!” the head caterer shouted at Lena, pointing at the cheese.

Lena nodded that she understood but dumped the thing down on a table with all the other leftover items just as her watch beeped. The sound nearly sent her out of her skin. Her heart rocketed into her throat, creating a weird frothing in the pit of her stomach. Her fingers trembled fumbling for the quiet button. She licked her dry lips, glanced at the other workers scurrying around, oblivious to her, and took a deep breath that tasted of meat, cheese, sweat, and strawberry jam. She adjusted her ponytail, tucking and smoothing bits of stray strands into place. She smoothed a hand down her vest, tucking the blouse deeper into her waistband and creating a wider V over her chest. It was showtime and she needed all her assets working for her.

Pulling in another breath, she left the kitchen and worked her way back into the last room she’d seen Jaxon in. He was still there, stacking the last of the chairs on a platform dolly. His head came up as if sensing her eyes on him. A patch of hair had slipped the hold and swung down over his brow, creating an aura of danger around him. It took all her resolve not to just bolt. Her brain was already struggling to find another way to execute the plan, all the while knowing this was it. This was the only way.

She took a shaky inhale and gave him a small smile she prayed to God looked more natural than it felt. She followed it up with a little nudge of her head in the direction of the corridor. The moment she did it, doubt exploded inside her head, a chaos of panic all wondering, what if he didn’t get the hint? What if he didn’t show up? What if he did and he didn’t find her attractive? The latter made her insides cold. It made her feel sick and clammy. But it was too late to turn back. There was only one thing left to do; she turned on her heels and ducked down the dimly lit hallway.

There were five heavy, wooden doors along each end, all firmly closed, all silent. They each led to different rooms normal people didn’t have in their house, like a music room, or a home theater. Weird things, in Lena’s opinion, but maybe if she were filthy rich, she’d have a home theater built-in, too. The only door that interested her was the third one on the right.

She snuck inside with a quick twist of the knob and moved straight to the leather loveseat tucked beneath a narrow window. There was a moment of pure relief that Richard hadn’t switched his office around since Lena had gotten the layout of it. The second half of her plan relied on his predictability, and sure enough, everything from the loveseat to the giant oak desk facing the door was exactly where they should be. Her fingers shook as she pried the gun from her waistband and hastily stashed it under one of the matching pillows.

“Waiting for someone?”

There was no reason for her to jump at the sound of his husky drawl in the doorway. There was no reason for her to squeak and spin to face him. The whole point of that night was getting him alone. Everything had led to that moment. Yet, her heart thundered under the palm she squished over it.

Jaxon arched an eyebrow, amusement haunting the edges of his grin.

“Sorry,” she blurted. “I, uh…”

“You shouldn’t be in here,” he said rather than let her continue fumbling for words. “It’s restricted.”

“Oh,” she mumbled stupidly. “Right. I wasn’t here … I mean clearly, I am here, but I wasn’t…?”

What was wrong with her? Never had she wanted the floor to open up and consume her and her stupid brain more than she did in that moment.

Jaxon chuckled. “You’re not here?”

Lena cleared her throat, fighting for some semblance of suave. “Well, clearly I am here and you’re … you’re here.”

His grin darkened. “You are and I am.” He moved so soundlessly for someone so big as he shifted to stand before her. “Now what? What do you want?”

As games of seduction went, Lena had never had the opportunity to play it. She’d spent the majority of her eighteen years warding away the advances of men.

She raised her head just a notch to peer up at him through her lashes. “You.”

It was unclear what she’d been expecting to happen next. Part of her had pictured him lunging at her and tearing at her clothes. She’d seen that happen more than once to the girls who hung around Travis’s shop. They never seemed to get the option to say no or say anything. Their entire purpose was to look pretty and wait for one of the men to take her into the backrooms. Lena had always been terrified of that dark hallway separating the main workshop from whatever happened at the other end. The girls never screamed or fought, mainly due to the heavy dose of heroin Travis kept his girls under, but Jaxon wasn’t Travis. They were galaxies apart. Everything about Jaxon screamed thorough and competent. He would take his time, working through her like a slow-burning drug. He would make her beg.

Lena caught her breath at the tempting thought, the sound painfully audible in the silence.

“And now that you have me in my father’s restricted office?” He bent his head to the side, observing her through those dark, turbulent eyes the hue of a raging sea. “What do you plan on doing with me?”

All those weeks of planning and imagining that moment, she had always glossed over that part. She’d told herself she’d know what to do once the time came. Now that the time was slapping her in the face, she had no idea what the next step was supposed to be.

“Nothing?” he taunted, taking a slow, predatory step forward, then another.

The heat of his approach propelled her back every step he took forward, driving her straight into the hard edge of Richard’s desk. Lena stiffened, her heart drumming in her ears. She watched him draw nearer, surrounding her with the woodsy scent of something musky and dark. He didn’t stop until there were inches between them and a world of possibilities in his eyes.

“What are we doing here, Lena?”

That close, she was eye level with the hollow at the base of his throat, the hard muscles of his neck, the chiseled curve of his jaw. That close, her head was forced back to meet the fire in his eyes, and it was that heat, that desire that propelled her body into motion.

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