Mischief in Miami (8 page)

With most jobs, I’d take care selecting just the right lingerie. If the Target had suddenly grown a conscious, the lace, or the bustier, or whatever his preference in the unmentionables department was would send him over the unsure edge. Daniel Silva, though, wasn’t in danger of growing a conscious. I could have showed up in a jumpsuit, and he would have been hard before I stepped inside the suite.

Since a particular shade or style of lingerie wasn’t an issue, I went with none at all. Other than the red lace dress, that was short, tight, and off-the-shoulders, I wore nothing else. Well, I had some heels on, too. Having less to take off meant less actual time spent with Daniel Silva.

I knew having sex with a man I detested was a deplorable concept. I also knew if the Eves were ever made public, the scrutiny would be instant and overwhelming. But those who would turn their judgey little fingers our way wouldn’t be the ones who knew how it felt to have your entire world crumble around you because of one man. They wouldn’t know how it felt to invest your time and your dreams in one person only to discover they were fucking someone else behind your back. They wouldn’t know the utter devastation of betrayal and the loss of self that ensued. They wouldn’t know how our Clients felt knowing that freedom meant financial and social ruin. They wouldn’t understand any of it.

And that was all right. Because I did.

I knew how it felt to have my whole life ruined because I’d been stupid enough to fall in love.

I knew. And I’d never forget.

As I punched the gas behind the wheel of the 640, I knew the Miami scene wasn’t the only thing I’d miss. I was always assigned a sweet car, but this one was especially sweet. As much as I loved the car though, it wasn’t worth spending another
day
with Daniel.

As I pulled up to the valet outside of The Presidential Hotel, I checked to make sure I was as removed from myself as possible. I needed to be sharp enough I didn’t make a slip, but I had to remove myself enough that my actions wouldn’t permanently taint my soul. I called it conscious removal, and to date, it hadn’t done me wrong.

I barely noticed the lobby as I whisked through it because the lobby wasn’t my destination. The South Beach Suite was. I’d chosen that suite instead of the presidential suite because it didn’t require a special access key to get to the floor, which the Contact wouldn’t have been able to get to. I always chose an accessible place that would provide the fewest number of road blocks. It wasn’t my job to make the Contact’s job easier, but it was my job to close the Errand, and I didn’t want to give anyone an excuse for not holding up their end of the bargain.

Once I was inside of the elevator and going up, I checked my reflection in the gold doors. I’d lined and painted my lips red like I did on every Sheet night. Men were fixated on women’s mouths, and when it was bright and hard to miss, the way mine was, they automatically imagined what it would look like wrapped around a certain part of their anatomy.

Red lips were what we called a natural aphrodisiac. Lingerie, cleavage, stilettos, tiny and tight dresses, bedroom eyes, coy smiles . . . all of those were natural aphrodisiacs. Unnatural aphrodisiacs had to do with chemical engineering. Certain drugs slipped into a drink could stimulate desire or, if need be, sleep. Liquids with precisely the right mix of pheromones could be dabbed on the neck or décolletage to lure a Target closer. The Eves arsenal had it all, but I was something of a purist. I’d never needed the assistance of chemical engineering to bed a Target, and my goal was to keep it that way.

I didn’t consider it cheating; it just seemed like a cop out. The day I couldn’t lure a man with nothing more than a look or bring him to his knees by sucking my lower lip into my mouth was the day I needed to start thinking about retirement.

The elevator doors whooshed open, announcing it was show time. I stepped into the hall and headed for the suite. There were only a few rooms on that floor, and it was mostly quiet, except for a couple of voices behind one door.

A male and a
female
voice coming from behind the door of the suite I was headed toward.

I cursed under my breath and started ad hoc’ing the hell out of my contingency plans. Maybe it was just a maid doing a turn-down service. Maybe a waitress was delivering the Cristal. Maybe it was no one of significance.

I sucked in a breath and knocked. The voices went silent right before the door swung open. Daniel was in a dark suit, smiling at me with expectation, and a familiar woman came up behind him.

It was the show-stopping burlesque dancer from last night.

Fuck.

“Daniel,” I said cooly, giving Natasha just as cool of a look. No one had said anything yet, so I didn’t technically know why she was there, but from her clothes—almost identical to mine except her dress was black—and Daniel’s already rumpled tie, I knew why she was there.

That cheating, three-way bastard was going down, and knowing I’d be responsible for it felt like a privilege.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” he said with a smug expression. “I thought we could use a little company on our big night.” He inclined his head back at Natasha, who was smiling at me as though I was more her type than Daniel.

If I ever ran into Mrs. Silva again, I would give her hell for not documenting that her husband was so into three-ways he probably couldn’t get off anymore without two girls grinding all over him.

“And I thought I told you that I didn’t do that.” I propped a hand on my hip and gave him a killer look.

“
Anymore
,” he added. “You said you didn’t do that anymore. But tonight’s going to change that.”

He reached for my waist and pulled me inside. I would have fought if I thought I could succeed. Knowing when to fight and when not to was an important part of our world. Daniel had me when it came to brute strength. I’d lose any and all physical battles against him. My strength came from my words, and I’d battle him with those until I’d won.

Daniel picked up a glass of champagne and handed it to me. If he thought this was my celebration face, he had another thing coming.

I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes. “Either she goes or I go.”

Natasha crossed her arms, too. No offense to her, because if I batted for the other team, I’m sure she’d do it for me, but Natasha and female fuckery wasn’t part of the job.

Daniel firmly shook his head. “No. Nobody is going. We’re all going to get naked, play with each other, and fuck like it’s going out of style.” With those ever so eloquent words, he lifted the glass of champagne I’d refused and drained it in one long drink. “Any questions?”

I took one full breath before I chanced responding. I wouldn’t have been able to stay civil if I hadn’t given myself a few moments to bite back the words that wanted to fly out of my mouth. “She goes. Or I go.”

Daniel’s forehead wrinkled. Setting the glass back down, he approached me. He wound his arm around my waist and shoved me hard against him. His mouth moved just outside of my ear, and he held me like that for a while before he said anything. It was a play to intimidate me.

I couldn’t be intimidated, least of all by someone like him. Behind the expensive suit and the insatiable sex drive was a little boy who’d wet the bed and grown up ignored by his mother. G hadn’t been remiss when she’d included psychological training in the Eve line-up.

“I know how bad you want me. I know you want me so bad you’d be willing to do anything,” he breathed into my ear, pulling me harder to him. “You want me? This is the price.”

I lifted an eyebrow and gave him an unimpressed smile. “I know how bad
you
want
me
. I know you want me so bad you’d be willing to do anything. You want me? She goes,” I said, not blinking as I met his stare. “This is the price.”

“You’re bluffing.” His eyes flashed with excitement. From his expression and his stiff member pressed into my hip, a woman talking back to him was obviously turning him on. The majority of my Targets were the same.

“I never bluff when it comes to sex,” was my reply. When his hold on me loosened just enough, I wove out of it and headed for the door.

Yes, I was bluffing. Tonight was the night, and come hell or three-way high water, I needed to get Mr. Silva’s pants around his ankles. I was playing a hunch that he wouldn’t let me get past the door. I didn’t want to think about the repercussions if that hunch blew up in my face.

I was about to step my first foot out into the hall when his hand grabbed mine. He gave it a tug and whipped me back inside of the room. “Natasha. Leave,” he ordered, inclining his head toward the door.

“Excuse me?” Natasha replied in an outraged tone with a thick European accent.

“Precisely.” Daniel threw her an irritated look. “You’re excused.”

She made a disgusted noise before grabbing her purse and storming for the door. “Un-fucking-believable,” she said, glaring at him in a way that gave new meaning to the term
glaring daggers
. “When you’re finished with him trying and failing to satisfy you, come find me,” Natasha said, dropping her hand on my arm. “A woman knows what a woman wants.” Then, she blew me an air kiss, flashed her middle finger in Daniel’s face, and marched out into the hallway.

Daniel slammed the door. “Alone at last. I hope you’re happy,” he said, giving me an expectant look. “You’d better make this good.”

One hurdle down, one more to go. Fifteen minutes to go, and I’d never have to see Daniel Silva again. Ten if I moved fast. “If you didn’t believe I would, you wouldn’t have kicked her out.”

Daniel’s face shifted into a smirk. “True. So show me just how good you are.”

Planning on it
.

When he stopped in front of me, I moved for his zipper. I gave it a hard tug, eliciting a surprised exhalation from him, followed by a grin. He didn’t want to waste time either.

I slid my hand inside of his pants until I had a firm grip on him. His chest was rising and falling before I did anything else. I lowered my grip down him, swiveling and tightening, before gliding back up in a quicker, looser motion. When I repeated the motion, a deep groan vibrated up Daniel’s chest. After two more pumps, his pupils were dilated, and his face was lined in a familiar way. When I swiveled down again, I rested a couple of fingers lower. From the feel of it, he was about to come in my hand.

I knew how to touch a man to make him fall apart in less than ten seconds, but I hadn’t been employing anywhere near my A-game with Daniel. Somebody had an issue with premature ejaculation, which actually fit with what I knew of him.

“How’s that for good?” I whispered as I freed my hand.

“Damn,” he breathed, giving his head a clearing shake. “Where did you learn that?”

“My sorority back in college. There was a competition to see which sorority gave the best handjobs, and we took the challenge seriously.” I lied, since the truth would have ruined the whole mood.

“Obviously. Any other skills you picked up in college I might be interested in?” From the look on his face, he was about to throw me down on the carpet right then and there. That wouldn’t work.

I pointed with my eyes at the dark bedroom behind him. “Why don’t you go strip down, lie down, and I’ll give you a live demonstration?”

“My God,” he said, already yanking on his tie, “I’ve never wanted a woman more than I want you.”

What a compliment (insert sarcasm here).

Once he’d disappeared into the bedroom, I rushed to the door, unlocked it, and opened it just a hair. After a quick time check, I allowed myself a smile. I’d timed it almost to the minute. If someone wasn’t waiting out in the hall, the night would be all for nothing.

As I headed for the bedroom, I grabbed my clutch and unsnapped it. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, I found an eager,
very
eager, and naked Daniel Silva spread out on the bed. There was no denying he had a nice body, but even though the exterior was beautiful, the interior wasn’t. It was ugly, and knowing that made enjoying the exterior impossible.

“Well, here I am,” he said, motioning down at his torso. “Ready and rock hard. Why don’t you get over here and help me out with that?”

I reached for the zipper at the back of my dress and lowered it. Daniel leaned up on his elbows, his eyes flashing. Sliding each arm out, I shimmied the dress down my chest and over my hips until it was rumpled in a heap on the floor.

“There’s a special place in heaven for women who don’t wear underwear,” he said, wetting his lips as his eyes skimmed me.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “And there’s a special place in hell for the men that fuck with them.”

He grabbed a condom off of the nightstand, tore the package open, and rolled the condom down his length as though he’d done it a million times. He probably had. “Since it doesn’t sound like you and I will spend our hereafters in the same place, we’d better make up for it right now.”

I crawled up the bed toward him. “No more talking,” I ordered, straddling him until I felt his dick twitching below me. “Just screwing.”

“With a mouth like that, I’d rather have you talk dirty the whole time,” he said as his hands affixed to my hips. He tried to lower my body over him, but I didn’t let him. Maintaining control was the only way I managed to get through it.

Reaching for my clutch at the foot of the bed, I slid the silk scarf out. Daniel froze for a moment when I held it in front of his face, so I lowered myself until I felt him just barely inside of me.

A rush of air escaped his lips.

“It will make what I’m about to do to you more intense,” I whispered as I wrapped the dark scarf around his eyes.
Plus, it makes it impossible for you to see a camera flash go off from the other room
.

He shook his head as I tied a knot at the back of it. “No. I want to see you. I want to see those fucking perfect tits bouncing.”

He was fighting it more than the others. I didn’t blindfold every Target, circumstance didn’t always require it, but I couldn’t risk Daniel seeing anything, or any
one
.