Actually, it was good that they weren’t here. Aspen would generate too many questions that Liam didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to drag his friends into danger.
He’d keep them clear of this mess.
He heard whispers, sensed a change in the crowd.
He turned.
And the air locked in his chest.
Aspen strode in through the imposing brass doors like she owned the room.
Her hair was a cascade of deep wine-red waves that fell just past her bare shoulders. Long, sparkly earrings dangled from her ears.
Her dress was black, but that didn’t begin to describe it. He’d asked his tailor to send a knockout dress over. He’d never asked that before and Alessandro had been giddy at the prospect. Now, Liam was either going to tip the man, or kill him.
The dress was strapless and fitted her torso well with a tiny strip of mesh at her waist. He let his gaze drift over her toned arms. The black fabric of the dress shimmered with sparkles, looking like velvet sprinkled with diamond chips. Her skirt was full, falling to the floor.
Fuck. He felt himself get hard.
She scanned the space, found him. A mysterious, female smile crossed her face.
She started toward him.
That’s when he realized that one side of the full skirt had a slit all the way to the top of one, toned thigh.
Liam’s cock grew harder. Yes, Alessandro was a dead man.
He sensed people watching her, seeing all that golden skin and slender leg. She’d painted her eyes dark like smoke, her lips an intriguing bronze.
She lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and he saw a tattoo along the outside of her forearm. Words written in a flowing script. He desperately wanted to know what they said. Hell, he wanted to know everything about her.
He set his drink down and pushed through the crowd to meet her.
“Hi,” she murmured.
He couldn’t form any words. He slid an arm around her, fighting the urge to brand her so everyone would know exactly who she belonged to.
Her lips twitched. “I take it you like the dress?”
He touched his lips to hers. He heard more frenzied whispers in the crowd.
“No, I like what’s under the dress.”
Aspen
I couldn’t believe I was standing in the middle of a swanky party at Gotham Hall, wearing a designer dress and being held in the arms of a billionaire.
Me. Aspen Chandler. Small-time private investigator.
People were staring at us, but right then and there, all I could see was Liam.
He looked outrageously sexy in his tux—it fit him like a lover’s touch. He smelled like sin. That sandalwood scent was designed to fire up a woman’s ovaries and shut down rational thought.
He pulled me closer and I felt a hard bulge nudge my belly. My mouth went dry. “You really like the dress.”
“Give me a minute.”
Damn if I didn’t like knowing that I affected him like this. A man who could take his pick of any of the gorgeous women in the room.
“So, we have a drink, circle the room, then get out of here,” I said.
The less time I was with him, the less chance I would slip up and forget to be a professional.
“We have to dance.”
I narrowed my eyes. A few couples were on the shiny dance floor where the band was playing.
“I don’t dance, Kensington.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll lead. You’ll be in good hands.”
“You’ve been warned.”
“Sir? Ma’am? Would you like some champagne?”
We turned our heads and saw a suited server holding a tray of delicate champagne flutes filled with liquid gold.
Liam grabbed two and handed one to me.
“So what’s the fundraiser for?” I took a tiny sip of the champagne, staying in character. It was delicious.
“The Wounded Warrior charity. To support wounded veterans and their families.”
I looked at everyone in their finery, at the incredible location, with their designer clothes draping everybody’s bodies.
“They don’t see the irony of raising money for veterans while showing off their gazillions in their fancy clothes?”
“I highly doubt it.”
I met his gaze, remembering something I’d noted in my research on him. “Most of the charities you support help veterans.”
He inclined his head. “Zane supports kids’ charities. His father abandoned him and his mother when he was young. Mav’s quiet about it, but he donates millions to charities that support education for kids, especially in science and technology. Rivera Tech supplies computers to hundreds of thousands of schools.”
I gripped the stem of my wineglass. “Why veterans’ charities for you?”
“Because they need help, they’ve more than earned it, and I’m in a position to help.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I wanted to join the British Army after college. My father scuttled the idea after a few calls to certain generals.”
“I’m sorry.”
“All in the past now.”
I knew better than anyone that past hurts were never gone. They dulled off, but managed to stab you when you least expected it.
He held out his arm.
I slipped mine through his.
I studied the crowd idly. I’d long ago perfected looking like I was taking no notice, but I was really cataloging everyone. Stopping by the food tables, I ignored the tiny, weird-looking canapes, and zeroed in on a tray full of truffles. I barely stifled a moan. Discreetly, I snagged two of the little balls.
“You like chocolate?”
I glanced at Liam and saw him smiling. I popped a truffle in my mouth, closed my eyes, and this time I did moan. It was so good.
When I opened my eyes, he was watching me with a look filled with heat. My belly filled with flutters. “Everyone likes chocolate.”
“Not as much as you do.”
I turned away, dragging in a breath, and ate the other truffle. I recognized a face and my insides froze.
Calmly, I turned back to face Liam. I cupped his cheek and pulled his head down to mine.
“Nexus is here,” I murmured.
“What?” Keeping in character, he tucked my hair back behind my ear.
“I recognize the woman who delivered the blackmail note to me. Dyed-black hair, black dress.”
“Shit.”
“We can’t slip up. We’re a couple in lust. Let’s do the rounds and then get out of here.”
His hand slid lower, resting at the top of my ass. I fought back a shiver.
“That won’t be hard,” he said. “Come on.”
He pulled me through the crowd. He nodded and smiled at people.
He was good at this. I kept my smile pinned in place and ignored all the speculative looks.
Don’t worry, single society ladies, this billionaire isn’t really mine.
No, billionaires didn’t end up with workaholic private investigators.
“Would you like to dance, darling?” Liam drawled.
“Hell, no,” I whispered. It was not an exaggeration to say that I had two left feet.
His hand squeezed my hip.
“Why, I’d love to,” I gritted out.
He pulled me onto the dance floor. Thankfully, the music was slow.
Liam pulled me into his arms and I took a second to wonder that we fit so well together. Then I stepped on his foot.