Page 80 of Blacklist

My honesty is so surprising she stands in shocked silence long enough for me to cross the few steps to her. I act without hesitation, knowing that even a moment’s pause will blow this. Before she processes my proximity, I curl a hand around her waist, pull her to me and crush my lips against hers. The kiss lasts longer than I intend. Maybe because I caught her off-guard, so she doesn’t fight it. Maybe because I hadn’t expected to enjoy it as much as I do. I know she’s poison, but she tastes like honey, and I linger on those sweet lips. When I break away, her mouth falls open.

“There’s no point keeping it from your family,” I say to her. “They’ll know soon enough.”

Knitting my fingers through hers, I turn my attention back to Malcolm. He looks like he’s already planning the wedding.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t wait until tonight to see her,” I say.

“You two have plans?” He looks to her for confirmation.

I step in before she can conceive a cutting remark in response. “Yes, we have an official date this time. I’m afraid it’s going to be a little less extravagant than a gala, Lucky.”

The corners of her eyes narrow ever so slightly. The lie. The old nick name. I’m pressing all her buttons and she’s got to go along with it—but Adair has always been an excellent liar. She slips into the deception with ease, gesturing to her causal outfit. “I’m not even ready yet. I look like hell.”

She’s wearing jeans that cut off at the ankles, a worn-in pair of Converse sneakers, and a soft, cotton t-shirt with a deep v-neck that reveals a satisfying amount of cleavage. She doesn’t look like hell. She looks like the devil transformed into a woman come to tempt me.

“You look perfect.” I mean it. “It’s a surprise, remember? We’ll have to run by my place for me to change though.”

“You should’ve done that instead of wasting your time coming all the way over here to see me,” she says, her words as sweet as arsenic-laced sugar.

“You aren’t happy to see me?”

I don’t miss the slide of her throat as she swallows back whatever biting remark she wants to make. She pops onto her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. Unlike our earlier kiss, this one is so full of venom, I swear it stings.

“I have to talk to my brother,” she says to me. “Let’s meet up later.”

“I’m sure it can wait.” I wrap my hands around hers and look to Malcolm.

“There’s no rush.” He’s lapping this up. I could get him to agree to almost anything right now. Sealing a union between my company and his, by way of marriage, not only keeps the family business in the family, it also costs nothing more than selling his sister’s soul. Something he values a lot less than his bank account.

“Are you sure?” Adair asks, clearly looking for an out.

“I should head home early. Surprise Ginny,” he suggests.

“Good idea. You have to keep the romance alive,” I advise him. There’s no way Malcolm is going home to his wife. Not at 4 o’clock on a Tuesday. Not when his regular room is waiting at the Eaton—a little tidbit Luca discovered when digging into the affairs of Mr. Randolph, the hotel manager.

“I was supposed to help her with Ellie, but I’m sure she’ll understand. I’ll text her and let her know you’re coming home.” Adair whips out her phone before he can stop her. Apparently, I’m not the only one who knows about his Tuesday night extracurriculars. I might loathe her, but I do admire her. She’s backed him into the corner in five seconds flat, punishing him in a way that’s almost Shakespearean. “There. Now she knows you’re leaving the office early! She’s going to be so excited.”

“Thank you,” Malcolm says in a strained voice.

“No problem.” She hooks an arm through mine. “We should be going.”

“We’ll discuss this further another time,” I say to him.

“Yes, we have a lot to talk about.” He moves around the desk and shakes my hand, his fingers closing over it tightly and holding it in place. “Take care of my sister.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her.” That’s a promise I’ll make good on. If her stunt with her brother proves anything, it’s that she’s too slippery to let out of my sight.

“Let’s go.” She tugs me toward the door. As soon as it closes behind us, she starts to pull away but my grip on her hand tightens.

“We’re not done selling this,” I whisper, tilting my head toward his secretary, who’s watching us with eagle eyes.

“Have a nice night, Barb,” Adair says, snuggling against me.

Our act is starting to wear me down. Pressed this closely to my body, I smell her perfume—tart and sweet just like her. I have to resist the urge to lift her into my arms and carry her to the nearest empty office. I want her splayed across a conference table, thighs around my neck, screaming my name. I want her to know exactly what she’s been missing. I want it to be even harder when she loses me this time.

Instead, we continue to the elevator and as soon as we’re safely inside, she yanks her hand away.

“What was that about?” she demands.