“The man we met with—” Jason started.
“Nothing to worry about,” Ethan answered. “Everything will be wrapped up by the morning.” He’d been given clearance to conclude the op this afternoon, and ducked out of Vitale’s office after being granted a ‘night off.’ By the time Ethan was due back at the Abramo villa, the executive order would have been signed by the President of the United States and the wheels in motion on taking the family down.
Kara’s pale blue eyes shifted to glance at Olivia, down at her hand clasped in his, and back up again. Olivia immediately tugged on his hand, indicating she wanted hers back. He allowed it so she could pull the black fabric over her cold shoulders, and gather her purse. She looked like she wanted to leave. Maybe escape.
“I think we’re going to head out,” he announced to the group, but mainly for her. “Congratulations, again.” It was rude, but they couldn’t stay. Olivia wanted to run, and they had business that needed finishing. Olivia was stiff as he started them toward the transport queue, while scrolling through his phone to let the driver know they were ready to leave. Really, he was ready to get on with it. From the annoyed expression on her face, she was too.
“Where are we going?” she asked when they reached the station and climbed into the golf cart. He followed right after her, and narrowly avoided banging his head on the top.
“Your place.” It was presumptuous, and she wasn’t going to like that. Her mouth dropped open, and he fully expected fire to come out of it. But it didn’t, probably because she realized this was to her advantage. Her place meant it was her turf.
“Maybe I won’t give you the address.”
He let a cocky smile warm his face. “You think I don’t already know it?”
Her jaw set as the golf cart took off, bouncing along the grass and heading toward the security area. “Fine,” she said abruptly. “My place, my rules.”
The look she gave him was authoritarian, and insanely hot, but also told him that agreeing to it might be risky.
“Okay, deal.” He figured he was equipped to handle danger.
-18-
Olivia’s keys clanked on the glass coffee table as she tossed them down, but he didn’t startle at the noise like she hoped he would. Instead, Ethan scanned his surroundings. The loft apartment wasn’t huge, but what would she do with all that space, anyway? Plus, she was happy to spend most of her time in an aircraft.
They’d barely said a word to each other on the half-hour car ride here, and she was glad to wait. She felt stronger at her place. During the drive, he’d taken her left hand in his, tracing the pink line on her palm that hadn’t finished healing. His eyes were unreadable. He stared at the scar like he was confused, yet fascinated by it.
Now they were standing in her dark apartment.
“You want the tour?” She flipped on the lamp beside the front door and gestured to the area on the first level. “Kitchen and living room.”
His gaze traveled over the European furnishings that came with the apartment. Modern and quirky, like someone spent too much time and money at an upscale Ikea. The dark, intense eyes swept to the open-slatted staircase.
“What do you suppose is up there?” he asked.
She didn’t answer him. She folded the wrap and put it away in the tiny closet, then scooped up her keys and put them in the bowl where they belonged. All the while, he stood there, watching her.
“You want something to drink?”
“No.” His deep voice echoed under the vaulted ceiling. “I want to know what the rules are.”
Her movements slowed as she sharpened her thoughts. He wanted to get right to it? Fine with her. “I’m going to ask you direct questions and you’re going to answer every one of them. None of that
‘I’ll answer what I can’
bullshit that Rance fed me.”
He sauntered toward her, his expression dangerously seductive. “All right. Anything else?”
Those eyes, even in the low lamplight, made it difficult to focus. And like before, in a single blink, she was off the ground and in his strong arms.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I’m sorry, is carrying you to bed against the rules?” He wasn’t able to move silently while holding her, and his feet thudded when he climbed the stairs. She was torn. Part of her was excited by this, but a larger part didn’t like surrendering to him. It was dark in the bedroom with low, angled ceilings, but moonlight poured down through a skylight onto the platform bed.
She wanted control back. Her brain scrambled, searched for a new rule to regain power.
“If you lie, you have to take something off.” She did her best to make it sound firm, an order, and not ridiculous like it really was.
He set her down on her feet, a full grin on his face.
Oh, holy God.
She’d never seen him truly smile before. It gave her goosebumps and her breath caught.
“Strip interrogation?” he whispered, leaning in and kissing her. “I like it. Same rule applies to you.”
“You have more clothes on than I do.”
He toed off his shoes and sat on the low bed, pulling off his socks one by one. Then, his elbows came to rest on his bent knees, and he looked up at her. “Now you’re ahead of me.”
Ethan probably expected her to sit beside him on the bed, but in a strategic move, she sat on the white chair angled in the corner, facing him. The chair was higher than the bed, and that, plus the distance, felt like an advantage.
“Tell me about Constantine’s death.”
He didn’t hesitate. “It was during Kara’s rescue when I was carrying her out of the house. Constantine was armed and came up behind us. I didn’t have time to evaluate the shot before I took it.”
“It was self-defense?”
“No,” he said. It was a lie, on purpose. His hands went to his red tie, loosening it—
She shook her head. “The jacket, first. Why doesn’t Rance know about it?”
The window above the bed was like a spotlight on him as he shed his jacket. In the moonlight, the holster straps and black gun were a stark contrast to his white dress shirt.
“Rance and I don’t work together,” he said. “I only informed the people who needed to know.”
Her pulse picked up. “Now you can take off the tie.”
Confusion flooded his face. “I’m not lying about that.”
“You told
me
you killed Constantine,” she said. “Did I need to know that?”
His hands undid the silk at his neck, sliding it free from the collar. “A bit technical, don’t you think?”
Yeah, but she’d take them where she got them. That was one less lie he could tell. “What’s your—”
“Pretty sure it’s my turn.” His expression said he was about to go big, or go home. “Why don’t you do relationships?”
Of course he’d zero in on the one question she didn’t want to answer. She crossed her legs and looked down at the red heels while searching to find a way out or to distract him. The silence stretched as he waited.
“That’s a lie by omission,” he said finally, hushed. “The dress, if you don’t mind.”
Well, maybe that could distract. She rose up onto the heels, her gaze locked on his. She clasped the zipper and drew it down, letting the dress fall from her body until it was a puddle of fabric at her feet. He gave a groan of satisfaction at the sight of her. She was glad she’d splurged on all the lace and silk. The lingerie made Olivia feel like one of the women in the sexy magazines her older brother pretended weren’t in his closet growing up.
“See something you like?” she asked.
“No, I really fucking don’t.” He peeled his holster off quickly, adding it to his stack of discarded items.
The air was thick with electricity and lust. It clung to her skin, painted on with every pass of his gaze over her flesh. She lowered back into the chair and again crossed her legs, assuming a strong posture.
“You’ve only got three lies left,” she said.
“And you’ve got none.”
What was he talking about? “I’ve got six.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to take anything else off. Also, you’re not counting my belt.”
“If we’re counting accessories, you should probably note I’m wearing earrings.” She focused on what she really wanted. “Who do you work for?” she asked. “Interpol?”
“No.”
“Are you faking your American accent like Rance? Are you MI-6?”
“No.” He took a deep breath, like he knew which one was coming next.
It was the one she’d suspected from the night she’d caught him spying on Gio. “Are you CIA?”
“No.”
His hands moved to the collar of his shirt. His face didn’t change as he released one button, followed by another, and another, until the shirt was open, revealing the scars from CIA work. He pulled the shirt down over his arms. His toned biceps flexed as he yanked the sleeves off and dropped it to the floor.
It was odd that he’d revealed his secret, and yet she was the one whose heart was pounding. She could barely catch her breath. He was a goddamn spy, a man who made his living in lies.
“My turn,” he said. “I’m not going to be in the field forever.” He stood from the bed. “I’m not asking for anything. All I need to know is if there’s a possibility of this . . . continuing.”
She felt dizzy. Her palms were sweating against her thighs as he made his steady approach.
“Is there?” His deep voice was hypnotic.
Her bottom lip trembled, and she gave him the lie he both did and didn’t want. “No.”
He set his hands on the armrests of her chair, which forced her head back. It was the only way to keep looking up at him.
“The bra,” he commanded, “and I’m going to take it off.”
“Okay.” It was barely a word.
Cool fingertips traced around her body as he knelt before her. He got the first hook undone, but paused. He looked confused, then tried again. “How many hooks are there?”
“Three.” He went back to work, struggling, and she laughed lightly. “I thought they trained you to be good with your hands.”
“I’m trained to handle things that are a threat to national security. Is there one in your bra?”
A smile burned on her lips. “What’s your full name?”
“Ethan Randall Foster.”
“Randall?”
“It’s my father’s name.” The fabric sprang free from her and he pulled it away a fraction of a second before his mouth covered a breast. She wove her fingers through his hair, holding his head to her, his stubble rubbing against her newly exposed flesh.
Oh, God, that feels good.
He’d been studying that manual again.
“The spy has parents?”
“We don’t really call ourselves that, but yeah, I do.” His hot mouth traveled from one breast to the other, and the one he abandoned was cupped in his hand, caressing her. The ache for him was painful when his thumb brushed over her nipple.
“Tell me,” he mumbled against her damp, sensitive skin, “what happened in the office.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking—”
He lifted his head and gave her a hard look. It was like throwing her into a volcano. “Your underwear’s up next, so I suggest you don’t lie. Why did you shut down?”
She forced his mouth on hers, but he pulled back. Her eyes fell shut and she relinquished control, to both him and her emotions. “Because this is starting to feel too real.” It had been terrifying, and maybe a little bit wonderful.
“Look at me.” Her eyes blinked open at his dominating tone. His face was hauntingly beautiful. “Ask me some questions so I can start lying.”
“Why do you find me so distracting?”
He launched to his feet, undoing his belt with anxious hands. “It’s not because I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Of course he’d play that card. He pulled her to stand. The soft skin covering his hard chest pushed up against hers, and she sighed. “Do you want me?”
“No. Just like I didn’t want you that night you kissed me in South Africa.” There was a sound of metal unzipping, and rustling as his pants dropped. She smirked at the memory. His hands were on her waist then, and one of them slipped inside the back of her panties, squeezing her against him.
“Got your attention, didn’t I?”
His breath was hot in her ear. “You’ve always had it.”
That one wasn’t a lie. He lifted her up in his arms so she could wrap her legs around his waist, his taut abs against the inside of her thighs. He strolled to the bed, taking a knee and laying her down beneath him, her back against the sheets. Her fingertips traced the map of scars on the chest that hovered over her.
Germany
, he’d said about the one near his waist. Had he gotten hurt rescuing Kara? But his mouth brushed over her lips, and the thought was abandoned. His kiss drifted over her jaw, to her ear, making her shiver.
He pressed up on his arms, staring down at her, putting moonlight between them. “Do you want me to tell you my secrets, Olivia?”
“No,” she lied. “Not the slightest bit.”
His mouth twisted into a wicked smile as she lifted her hips and let him peel the lacy underwear away. The obsidian eyes heated to a temperature that could melt steel. “My jacket’s all the way over on the floor. Do you happen to have something—”