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Chapter One
Bastien
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"THIS IS EXACTLY WHATwe needed, Etienne.” I hold out the frosted glass of beer to toast my best friend and brother in arms.
But his glass is still on the counter and his eyes are elsewhere in the boisterous beachside bar in Rio, where we’re fortunate enough to be stationed with our Marine unit, bound by duty and adrenaline.
The icy beer is a respite from the oppressive heat that clings to my skin and the brutal schedule of life as an elite sniper.
“I’d say you’re wrong, Bastien.” Etienne’s low voice rumbles like a distant storm.“Thatover there is exactly what we need.”
I follow his sharp eyes to the target of his vigilant stare, the prey he has in his sights.
“Leave it to a Marine sniper to instantly seize on the most desirable target in all of Ipanema Beach.” Victor, our unit commander, visibly takes a deep breath and laughs. He’s not bowled over by much, but this woman has managed to achieve what even grueling military training hasn’t: the ability to shut us up.
The plunging red dress blazes like a siren over the woman’s flawless curves. Every movement of her body as she holds court in the raucous bar, samba music pulsating through every surface, is like foreplay.
Time seems to slow as the woman saunters past, each step a symphony of confidence and allure. A wave of awe hovers over our command, and Etienne and I look at each other, then at our unit.
This prize is ours alone to capture. The sense of rivalry for her sets a charge into the atmosphere.
“May the best man win.” Etienne finally returns the longstanding toast.
Her long, dark tresses cascade down her back, caressing her sun-kissed skin, as she leaves a trail of desire in her wake.
Etienne's lips curl into a knowing smile, the facade of invincibility momentarily faltering to reveal the vulnerable man that lies beneath. It's a rare sight, a glimpse behind the armor that he wears with practiced grace and precision. I don’t make those kinds of mistakes.
We’re closer than brothers, but we’re also each other’s oldest and favorite adversaries. Competitiveness has always underscored our bond, from our childhood games, growing up in New Orleans, to shooting competitions in our sniper unit, to the tournament before us: getting the woman everyone wants to end the night with in our bed.
A surge of determination courses through my veins as I meet Etienne's gaze, our silent understanding propelling us forward. "Why don’t we go over and we’ll introduce ourselves?"
"Not if I get there first," Etienne challenges. “Then it’ll just be me introducing myself and taking her to my bed. You think she’ll talk to you once she’s caught sight of me?” He gives a playful smirk.
“And when you guys fuck it up after getting in each other’s way, I’ll be there to collect the spoils!” Jim, one of the newest members of our unit, calls over. His goading is met by cheers and whoops as Etienne begins to weave through the throngs of people, seamlessly navigating the crowded bar.
“I’ll take bets,” Victor volunteers. “I think it’ll be Etienne.”
“No way,” challenges Sheldon, a private in our unit. “Etienne’s a peacock. Bastien’s a falcon.”
As I catch up with Etienne to approach the magnetic woman in red, the voices of my unit fade into the recesses of my mind. The pounding bass of the music reverberates through my bones, invigorating me as we close the distance between us and the sensual target who has captivated us.
The air crackles with anticipation as we lean against the bar, enveloped in a charged atmosphere that seems to thicken with every passing moment. I take a calculated step closer, my voice dropping to a sultry growl as I address the curvy woman, my eyes locking onto hers.
"I have to say, I’m worried about you being here." I inject just the right amount of charm, confidence, and mystery into my words.
“Oh really? And why’s that?” Her voice is deep.
“Fire hazard. Too much heat for this small bar. Everything’s liable to combust. I know I am.” The delivery is what makes it work, not the line itself. I can tell from the electricity in her eyes that it does. "I'm Bastien. This is my dear friend, Etienne. And you?"
She faces us flirtatiously, her dark eyes filled with a sense of insatiability. They appraise us with an intensity that sends a tingle down my spine, as if she knows that she’s our prize to win and she’s accepting the challenge.
"Lenora,” she purrs, her voice humming with allure. “Nice to meet you both.”
Her hand extends an invitation that I eagerly accept, bringing it gently to my lips. I feel the electric jolt of connection as my breath brushes against her knuckles, heat radiating from her touch. Etienne mirrors my actions, his movements as smooth and deliberate as his reputation suggests.
Etienne breaks the silence, his voice carrying a blend of confidence and welcoming warmth. "Could we buy you a drink?" he asks, his words laced with subtle provocation.
