“A bit uncomfortable, I’d imagine. But whatever revs your engine, baby.”
Her eyes flashed again, and he suppressed a chuckle. She picked up her champagne and took the tiniest sip. No doubt to keep her wits about her.
“You get ahead of yourself, Mr. Black.”
“Do I? I thought we were discussing the terms of your surrender.”
He could see the moment she made the decision. She set the plate down, but held onto her glass. Then she took a step toward him and put one hand on his chest. He could feel the burn of her touch through the layers of his bespoke tuxedo. He hadn’t felt a burn like that since Natasha had touched him.
He wanted to rip the mask off her face and ask what game she was playing, but it occurred to him that her plan could be one of two things. Either she’d been as obsessed with him as he had been with her, and was approaching him as safely as she could—or he was a target for assassination.
Hell, maybe it was both.
She tilted her face up to his, her eyes clear and bright blue in the holes of her mask. He thought he detected the edge of a contact, but she blinked before he could be certain.
“Perhaps you should kiss me. Then we’ll see if there’s anything worth surrendering for.”
He dipped his head toward hers, then stopped when he was only inches away. Her eyes had closed, but she opened them again when she realized he wasn’t kissing her. There was a question in them. Confusion.
“I want to, lovely Anna. More than you realize. But how do I know you aren’t an assassin? I have enemies. Powerful ones. And I didn’t get to be this age by pretending they don’t exist.”
He thought she might react to that, but she only said, “Search me then. Have your people search me. I have no weapons.”
“Poison?”
“I don’t have that either.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
She licked her lips. The sight of her pink tongue startled him. Aroused him.
“There,” she said. “If I have poisoned my lipstick, then I’ll die first.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her close, melding her body to his, uncaring of those around them who might be watching. “But what a way to go, sweetheart.”
This time he didn’t hesitate, and she didn’t resist. He took her mouth swiftly, surely, his tongue sweeping against hers. She sagged against him for a moment, and then she met him with as much passion as he gave to her.
It was fucking exhilarating.
And there was no way in hell this woman was anyone other than his Calypso. His body knew, even if his mind had doubted. No more, though.
He didn’t know what she was up to but he wanted to find out. She wasn’t in disguise without a reason. She never did anything impulsively, least of all enter his domain and give herself up to him.
He broke the kiss first, setting her away from him gently, his fingers tracing the line of her neck before falling away. Her chest rose and fell a little quicker, her pulse fluttering in her throat. His lips tingled ever so slightly, and he knew she’d used something to plump her lips.
“Shall we ditch the party, Anna? Or do you wish to dance and flirt and disappear at midnight like Cinderella?”
“I’m willing to ditch the party. But if I decide I wish to go, you must let me.”
“Will you leave a glass slipper to remember you by?”
Her lips curved. “Perhaps I will.”
“I’ll let you go,” he said, though he didn’t intend to give her a reason not to stay. “But I don’t think you’ll want to.”
“So arrogant,” she replied. “I might leave simply to prove a point.”
“You might. I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
“I guess we will.”
He put her arm in his again, then escorted her toward the ornate stairs that led up to his private rooms. Tommaso Leone was with another woman, a hot blonde in a red dress and matching red lipstick, but he looked up as they walked by, his eyes blazing with fury as he glared at Natasha.
If she noticed, she didn’t dignify his anger with a reaction. Cool as fucking ice, this woman.
Ty caught his gaze and frowned, jerking his chin toward the party. Ian ignored him.
He was done with these people anyway. Ian Black answered to no one, and certainly not to anyone here tonight. His team would learn all they needed from the guests as the hours went by and the alcohol continued to flow.
No one would notice he was gone—and he didn’t care if they did. Not with Natasha so close. He didn’t know when the next time he’d get her alone would be, and he couldn’t lose the chance to press her for information, however subtly.
Besides, Colt Duchaine was currently working the room as the Compte de Duchesne, his hereditary French title, and letting it be known he’d gone into business with BDI. Most people had no idea the title had no money attached to it. Even if they did, they didn’t know he hadn’t made a fortune elsewhere. He was as good a representative of BDI’s success and global influence as anyone.
Natasha glided up the stairs beside Ian, never faltering in her heels. He walked slowly for her, but she moved so elegantly that it seemed not to matter. When they reached his private quarters, he led her into the sitting room and closed the door behind them. The lights were on, and the doors were open to the private balcony that looked out onto the Grand Canal.
“Very pretty,” she said as she moved around the room, casually caressing the furniture and artwork. “You are a wealthy man, Mr. Black.”
He shrugged as he went over to the bar and poured Scotch into two glasses. He didn’t have to worry about anyone tampering with his liquor. He had a system and knew if anything had been touched. It had not.
“I do well enough.”
“A palazzo on the Grand Canal is more than well enough,” she said with a hint of disdain so slight he might not have noticed if he’d been a different man.
He handed her the Scotch and took a sip of his. “There are a lot of bad people in this world, Anna. And there are a lot of people with money who are willing to pay for protection when they need it. I’m good at what I do.”
“No doubt. But sometimes the people paying for protection are the bad people, don’t you think?”
“True enough.” He itched to ask her what she wanted from him tonight, but he had enough experience with Natasha to know it wouldn’t work. If he wanted to figure it out he had to let her play her game.
And be on his guard. He didn’t kid himself that she wasn’t lethal, or that she had a special fondness for him that would prevent her from attempting to kill him. Especially if she’d been sent to do so.
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“Sometimes it does. But who am I to say who’s good and who’s bad? It’s all a matter of perspective, don’t you think?”
She nibbled her pink lower lip and a bolt of desire shot through him, tightening his balls. “I suppose it is.”
She turned away and drifted out the open doors and over to the stone balustrade. The moon had moved higher in the sky and the sequins on her dress glittered like fire. He went to join her.
“It’s a lovely view. You are very lucky.”
“I don’t spend much time here, to be honest. But yes, it is.”