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His threat makes my skin crawl, but no one else blinks. Not Rish Khalil, with her career ambitions trumped only by her hunger for justice. Not Patrick O’Conner, whose boy-next-door freckles belie his capacity for cutting insight. Not even Kris Hays, whose psychology degrees enhance rather than erase her aptitude for strategic manipulation when a case requires it.
This life we’ve chosen necessitates moral compromises. It’s not a surprise. It’s always like this. But we still work for the greater good, always.
Right?
And then my phone buzzes. Not my work phone, but the burner set up for this very operation. The arguing of the team fades into the background as I stare at it, my pulse quickening. I’ve received a text from Alessa herself, the screen lighting up with her words.
“Guys,” I say. Then: “Guys!”
They shut up, staring at me in surprise. I hold up my phone for the team to see.
“Alessa just invited me to the Ruby Realm tomorrow night.”
CHAPTER9
NATALIE
The next night, I tuck my lingering concerns away and paint on my armor. I slide sleek black heels onto feet meant for worn leather boots. Dab rose gloss across lips more familiar with getting chewed than painted with smiles. Drape my body in silk that suggests a boudoir rather than a badge.
When I step out of this apartment, Special Agent Natalie Miller stays behind. Tonight I am Natalie Moreau, woman of leisure, a trust fund baby with a hankering for hedonism.
And I will be whatever Alessa wants me to be.
The hired limousine delivers me right to the discreet entrance I’ve been briefed on by Alessa herself. My heart hammers an uneven rhythm against my ribs as I approach. The nondescript door sandwiched between a high-end boutique and an art gallery betrays no hint of the secrets that lay beyond. But I know what I’m walking into. Decadence and discretion, temptation and transgression.
Everything I now represent.
A bulky man appears out of the shadows beside the door, and I gasp despite myself. He inclines his head in greeting, lifting his wrist mic to murmur, “She’s here.”
Before I even need to speak my name, the red door swings inward. I recognize the statuesque brunette hostess from Alessa’s charity event, her pin curls and cat eyeliner as flawless as they were the other night.
“Good evening, Ms. Moreau,” she says brightly. “Please follow me.” She begins to walk up the narrow flight of stairs. “Ms. De Luca is expecting you. This is the back entrance, to avoid the attention that sometimes comes from entering by the front.”
“I appreciate the discretion,” I reply breezily as we get to the landing, sailing through the doorway she holds open.
I swallow down my nerves as she latches the door behind us with an ominous thud. Too late to turn back now. We stand in an entry hallway, the walls swathed in crimson damask wallpaper that muffles the heavy bass leaking from beyond the inner doors that lead, presumably, to the nightclub. Their sleek red-black surfaces reflect the glittering chandelier overhead, its crystals fracturing the dim light into a kaleidoscope of colors.
But they’re not the only doors. There are the entrance doors, much wider and more noticeable than the door I came in.
And there is a discrete door at the end, too, with a deadlock on it. I wonder wherethatleads.
Like a lamb to slaughter, I follow the hostess through the looming double doors. They swing inward and I pass the threshold into the belly of the beast.
Only…
Only it’s not much of a beast. It’s a quiet area, and even the crashing noise from the nightclub in the next room is deadened in here, only the heartbeat pulse of music through the floor giving any indication of the noise. This room is an open floor lounge, filled with coffee tables and sofas, the women in here mostly alone, some of them working on laptops.
I scan the room, searching for any sign of the dark-haired beauty who has consumed my thoughts since our first encounter. My breath catches when I spot her, right up the other side of the room in the bar area, leaning against it with—yes, even I have to admit it now—a predatory grace. Her gaze locks onto mine with an intensity that leaves me feeling exposed, as if she can see straight through my carefully constructed facade.
“Hello, Natalie,” Alessa says as I come within earshot, her eyes never leaving mine. “I’m so glad you decided to come.”
“Me too,” I say, my voice betraying a hint of nerves as I accept the drink she offers. “This place is… interesting.”
“Isn’t it?” she agrees, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I thought you might find it intriguing. Can I get you a drink?”
I force a smile. “Just sparkling water for now, thanks.” I need to keep a clear head. Maybe it was the wine the other night that messed with my judgment.
But being this close to Alessa again is making my insides flip-flop. She raises a sculpted eyebrow and I resist the urge to shift under her scrutiny. After a moment, she relays my order to the bartender.
