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  “You are such a pervert. Seriously? Who puts a bed on a plane and a closet full of women’s clothing? You make me sick.” I shove and wiggle until my feet touch the carpeted floor of the shaking plane.

  He grabbed at me roughly. “They’re for you. The bed and the clothes and the plane—it’s all for you.” His expression looked broken for a second, like I had wounded him.

  I paused, worried he was telling the truth. “Who puts a bed and clothes on a plane for a girl he isn’t seeing?”

  He steps toward me again, lifting my face. “I see you. I always see you.” I could see he was struggling with the feelings he had. He fought them and apparently had lost.

  I tried to step back, I honestly did. It was the right thing to do. But my heart was his. It had always been his, I just didn't know it. I lifted my fingers up into his longish hair and pulled his six-foot-three body down onto my five-foot-four one.

  We spun and fell onto the bed with him crushing me into the soft mattress. But we didn't kiss and we didn't fuck. We paused, staring at each other. It was delicate and frightening.

  He rolled to his side and trailed his fingers up and down my torso, tugging at my blouse and brushing against my stomach like it was an accident. He traced heat trails up and down me, touching nothing that couldn't be explained away or considered innocent.

  Chapter Two

  I woke from my slumber to find him staring at me from the chair. It was unnerving that Coop had done it the day before and now today it was Servario. Waking that way twice in a row was spooky.

  But Servario spoke, never keeping his thoughts to himself when it benefited him to say them aloud. “I want to fuck you but I want you to ask me to do it.”

  I scowled. “No. Weirdo.” He was such a freak. He was a finger-in-the-ass freak and I had already played this game with him too many times to count.

  He nodded. “I am going to offer you a deal and you have to choose.”

  I rolled my eyes. Actually, they might have rolled themselves.

  “Don't roll your eyes at me, Evie. You know how I feel about disrespect.”

  I lifted my middle finger from my side. “This is how I feel about your deals.” Had he just made love to me when we got on the plane I would have done it. But he had lost the control then and this was his way of getting it back.

  “You let me pick your clothing, fucking you how I see fit, and treat you the way I want so badly to, and I will hand over Coop’s sister to the right people with all the proof.”

  I sit up, completely stunned he would bargain this way to ensure his heart wasn't in the sex. “You are an idiot. What is the other option? Let her keep doing all those bad things and compromise our mission?” I scoffed, “Oh, okay, Servario. Sure. I’ll let you humiliate me so you don't feel like we made love and love each other, and you can treat me like a whore for that. Dipshit.”

  He shook his head, a smug look crossing his face. “She will vanish with all the evidence and Coop will always wonder. His family will never have closure.”

  I sigh. “I really thought you were smarter than this. I know what Rachel has done and I have the evidence in the folder.”

  He lifted a syringe from the table next to him. “This is a drug that will take all your memories of the last twenty-four hours. They will be gone, completely. And I will fuck you anyway.”

  A sarcastic smile crossed my lips. “You can’t make me hate you. Nothing you do anymore makes me think you’re as scummy and horrid as you try to be. This whole walking contradiction thing with the buying me clothes and putting in a bed and then bribing me for dirty sex so you can get away without feeling something for me—it doesn't work. I see you too, just so you know.”

  I stood on wobbly legs and walked to the clothing rack, lifting the tiny red dress that looked like it might be a tube top, from its hanger. I walked back to the bed, undoing my shirt one slow button at a time and dropped it to the carpet. I dragged my bra off, letting my breasts linger in the air, exposed. I knew his face had an indifferent look upon it, but I also knew there was no way he was indifferent. I knew he loved me and he wanted me.

  I pulled the tight red dress on, dragging my pants and underwear down with it. I kicked everything off to the side so I was just in the slutty red dress, and fluffed my hair like a porn star might. I turned to face him, letting him see the finished product. He didn't budge but I could see the fire. I backed away slowly, heading for the door and aware that if I ran he would chase. We had played that game all too often as well. “I love you, Servario. I have loved you for a while. I hate that I love you as much as you hate that you love me. But here we are, over international waters and land. We are in La La Land and no one has to know we love each other here. We can safely be open to everything and nothing all at once.”

  He clenched his jaw tightly, offering me a slightly softer version of his pent-up sex face. “You have to take it back. I won’t ever choose you, ever.”

  I nodded. “I know, and yet I love you anyway.” It was true. I knew he wouldn't choose me over the rest of the world. He had a duty as a double agent and he took it seriously. Too seriously.

  No matter what, he would always be him, the ungettable get. The unattainable man behind the mask.

  My hands reached behind me, clutching to the doorknob. I turned it, opening the door slowly, as if fleeing a tiger, and slipped out into the open jet plane, closing the door behind me.

  I turned and walked back to my seat, curious as to how close we were to landing. The jet was dark as the skies had yet to see the morning sun. We were flying through the night, a red eye with a black heart.

  I sat down, hating the fact my bare ass was on his seat. God only knew what he did in them. He liked to pretend he didn't have sex on his planes with anyone but me, but I was smarter than I looked, most days.

  The door to the back didn't open and I had to admit it bothered me. I wanted him to rush the door, scooping me up and pinning me against the wall.

  Instead, I fell asleep looking like a prostitute with my ass on his seat, no doubt getting an infection.

  We landed with a jolt that woke me instantly. I blinked away the confusion of where I was and what was going on. It always took a second when we were on mission. I was used to warm mornings in my house with a cup of coffee as I planned my day around dropping my kids off at various activities or school.

  His body was in my peripheral but not next to me. I shivered, realizing I was still in my disturbing dress and not just bare-assed but also barefoot. I grimaced, standing and walking to the back after the plane settled.

  “Don't change, just add some shoes and makeup. You know what the girls I associate with look like,” he muttered from behind his laptop.

  I sighed, not even considering changing. I knew what would happen. He would do his impatient act where he stood at the door, barring the way until I wanted to act like a big girl and put my proper spy clothes on. It always meant I ended up looking like a hooker. It was my most believable act which I felt said very little about my personality. Luce, my only other female partner, was never asked to dress like a whore.

  I slipped into the back room, staring at the bed for a moment. Bits of feathers, foam, and mattress springs covered the room. He’d raged, tearing it all to hell like a child.

  I made a mental note to add this to the reasons why we would never work. I had children enough to raise; I didn't need to add another who was wanted by every agency in the world for one heinous act or another.

  The closet was still pristine, apart from a few feathers from the pillows. I ran my fingers along the pieces, separated by color. The varying fabrics tickled my fingertips, each one holding promise of a fun time. Pantsuits, dresses, skirts, blouses, tanks, and even a few pieces of lingerie. Every one of them designer and costing more than my monthly mortgage payment. To him it was nothing, akin to dropping a dollar in a bucket for a homeless man. No, for him spending all this money on clothing for a woman he couldn't ever have was just a regular Tuesday. He
was bizarre in the most extreme ways.

  I glanced at the red dress, knowing I looked slutty but I could do better. Servario wasn't a regular criminal mastermind. He was a savant of the underworld, and for that reason I could get away with a much nicer outfit. I lifted a black bustier-styled midriff tank top by Diane von Furstenberg. It made my boobs look like they were seventeen instead of thirty-six so that was obviously a better choice than the tube dress. It tied up from the bottom to the top in the front with laces, revealing my pale skin through it. It was a classy attempt at slutty. I peeled the red dress down my legs, pulling on the white, low-slung skirt, also by Diane von Furstenberg. I contemplated wearing some cute wedges but I knew he would need my legs to look their best. Okay, and I really wanted to wear the red Jimmy Choo lace pumps. They had a golden heel and I imagined if I were ever to get married again they would be the secret hiding beneath my wedding gown.

  My life made that dream laughable but a girl could dream.

  I used the makeup he had set up in the drawers, including of course, the Russian Red MAC lipstick we had both become so fond of. I teased my dark hair and gave myself a once over. The heavy black makeup made my eyes pop. The falsies and Younique 3D Lash Kit made me look like I was related to the Gabor family, only a brunette.

  I stepped back, excited by the fact I looked classy and sexy and there was no way his eyes would be able to stray from the incredible amount of cleavage shown in the laces of the shirt.

  I walked out, leaving my green bag on board. Lord knew we were coming back this way. I just hoped and prayed Luce, Jack, and Coop would be with us.

  I walked, praying to the gods I didn't twist an ankle or slip in any way, to the front of the plane. He glanced back, scowling at me. “You look too nice for where we’re going.”

  When I walked past him, I lifted my skirt, flashing my bare ass at him. “I kept it just trashy enough for you.”

  He made a noise, of course he did, but I didn't pause. I hurried to the dark Rolls Royce waiting for us on the small runway, as per the usual. Even in a country in the Middle East, he was able to fly in under the cover of his badass umbrella.

  When he climbed in he sat too close, smothering me with heat and all the leftover things we hadn’t said to each other and all the damage caused by the things we did say.

  He reached over, lifting me up into his lap to straddle him. I opened my mouth to protest but his eyes darted to the driver.

  “You know how I like it, Estelle.” He unzipped his zipper, bringing a gasp from my parted lips. I shook my head, pleading with my eyes, but I could see the vacant look in his stare as he shoved himself inside of me. Unfortunately, my body had been prepared by all his advances and messing around. He slid into me with ease, not even bothering with a condom. He knew I was unable to conceive but that didn't mean he hadn’t been with other people.

  His hands crept up my thighs as I hovered over him, his cock head inserted in me. When his fingers gripped onto my hips he dug in, forcing me to circle in his lap as if it were a dance. He massaged as if he was waiting for me to sink down onto him, taking him all in. But I didn't. I hovered there, unsure of my next move. He’d called my bluff as I had called his. He always had to win.

  He lifted his head, staring at the Russian Red lipstick. “Really?”

  I shrugged. “You put it there.”

  “I was testing you.”

  “Then we both failed, I suppose.”

  He nodded. “I suppose. We never have been the sort to succeed, though have we?”

  I shook my head slowly, staring down on his mouth. I wanted a thousand bad things from those lips but not in a vehicle with a driver.

  His hazel eyes held almost no green. They had darkened as his mood had. He narrowed his gaze for a moment, plotting or something equally nefarious. As the driver put the car into drive, lurching us forward slightly, Servario brought my hips down, plunging himself into me. A soft moan escaped my lips. He breathed in sharply, pulling me down on him so he could nestle his face into my neck and hair.

  He muttered things, soft and yet disturbing. “I am going to fuck you so hard when I get the chance, you won’t remember ever having been with another man.”

  I nodded as he and the car rocked us both. His hands lifted and circled my body as he impaled me softly. Neither of us could orgasm, not the way he was doing it and not without the driver seeing everything.

  We traveled this way, him forcing me to slowly ride him to the point we were both completely ready, overly ready.

  His hands slid around me, cupping my ass and squeezing hard, making me wince as his lips delicately placed soft kisses on my neck. It was a series of contrary emotions and sensations.

  We didn't notice the drive had stopped, nor that he was turned around and watching us completely. The addition of his ragged breath caused us to stop and turn. He was rubbing himself in the front seat, staring down at my ass. My skirt covered everything but his eyes weren’t doing the watching so much as his mind was creating the image. Servario lifted me to my knees, pulling himself out. My wetness coated us both but he just did his pants back up as if it was nothing. “Get the door,” he spoke to the driver, showing his disapproval in his tone but never looked back at the man who looked stunned that he had been caught. He swallowed hard, offering me a pleading look. I turned back to Servario who wasn’t fazed by any of it. He lifted me off of his lap completely and climbed from the vehicle. He turned back, offering me a hand. I tried not taking it, shocked and disturbed and ready to lose my temper over the last several moments but he snatched my hand. He dragged me as if I were a child having a temper tantrum. As if I were the one who had trashed the dirty room on the plane. On the drag in I noticed we were outside of a hotel surrounded by the ocean. The warm salty air hit me like a ton of bricks. I was grateful instantly that I had chosen the outfit I did. But then I noticed several women in abayat and other garments covering most of their bodies. It was like the scene from Pretty Woman where she struts Rodeo Drive in her hooker boots held up by pins. My midriff was like the most offensive thing I could have shown. His disgusted look made sense now. I could have killed him for not telling me.

  Servario didn't check in like most men. He strolled straight past the front desk, nodding at the man who scurried after us. The man met us at the elevator. It was there I realized we were staying at the sail-shaped hotel Burj Al Arab in Dubai. I remembered seeing several articles on it because of its unique shape. When we got into the elevator I caught a glimpse of his fierce stare in the reflection. He squeezed my hand, holding tightly like he was trying to tell me something.

  The elevator ride was tense. The air was heady, regardless of the air conditioning.

  The attendant gave us an awkward stare, confused perhaps by my outfit or just by the fact that Gustavo Servario was in his elevator. I would be uncomfortable too maybe, had he not played with my ass on several occasions. Once someone does something that intimate, it’s hard to fear them properly.

  I struggled with his grip until we were in our room. Then he let me go, flexing his hand and staring at the room.

  “We were meant to stay at The Palm, but I like to change my mind at the last second to avoid predictability.” He pulled something from his pocket, placing it down on the table in the middle of the room that still held my awestruck attention. It was fabulous. I parted my lips to say so but he held a finger up, pausing me as if I were a remote-controlled device.

  He flashed a bright light from the object and then turned to face me, undoing his pants. “Let’s finish.”

  I stepped back. “What was that?”

  “A device I got from someone you don't know and the technical language it would require to describe it to you would be wasted air on my part.”

  I paused, translating it all. “Did you just call me stupid?” He did. I rehashed it twice before his answer came with a smile and the dropping of his pants. “No.” He held a hand out to me.

  I stepped back. “You just called me dumb an
d you expect I will rush over and let you fuck me?”

  He nodded, continuing to hold his hand out. I scoffed, turning and walking into the bathroom and locking the door. “Asshole!” I muttered, leaning against the counter. I stripped down, needing suddenly to be clean from the feeling of him inside of me. I dragged the lashes off, wincing in the mirror as I tried to avoid eye contact with myself. I needed a refresher course on why my vagina wasn’t in charge of decision making, especially where Servario was concerned.

  I stepped into the huge marble shower that could have been a sizeable walk-in closet and cranked the hot water. I sat on the bench and let the ceiling rain down on me. The water smelled like roses had been soaking in it all day long, as if the hotel had prepared the water just for my shower.

  I closed my eyes, letting makeup run down my cheeks. The water felt like tears but I didn't have any. I didn't feel guilty about Coop which was insane. I didn't feel guilty that I was living a giant lie. Somewhere inside of me I believed Servario and I were meant to be together. I loved him more than I had ever loved a person, except for my children. For me that was enough of an excuse to tolerate his bullshit.

  But I had a feeling that deep inside of me there had been a line drawn in the sand, or rather bathroom floor. I was no longer willing to pretend we weren’t more than this—me pretending to be his whore and him taking advantage of the timing and my heart.

  If he could be greedy with his heart I could be so with mine as well. A loud blast interrupted my pep talk. I glanced up to see he’d kicked the door in. I sighed, hating that we were this couple, the one everyone else tolerated the noise from.

  “Not right now, Servario. I’m not in the mood.”

  He didn't strip down. He stepped into the shower—pants, shirt, socks, and all. He lifted me from the seat with a rough tug, jerking me into his arms. I tried to knee him in the balls but he blocked it, kissing me at the same time. He pinned me, holding me tightly as he tore down his pants. His tongue explored my reluctant mouth, stroking and caressing with the hot water pouring down on us, flooding our faces.