“Ready?” Camila’s soft voice and the closing of the suite door had Sydney turning in her direction, eager to see what she’d opted to wear tonight. But before she could really appreciate the stunning outfit her new friend was wearing, Gray’s reaction snagged Sydney’s attention.
The man looked like he’d just seen a beautiful woman for the first time in his life as he devoured her with his eyes. Camila was a vision in her black satin wrap dress that hit mid-thigh, and the crisscross style dipped low in front, revealing an ample amount of cleavage.
She’d styled her long hair to hang over one shoulder, exposing one dangly earring. “You’re a knockout.” Sydney didn’t want to get overly optimistic that another woman was catching Gray’s attention. But she could certainly hope, right?
She wasn’t sure if Gray was quite ready to fall in love, but he deserved a little desire and passion in his life. We all do. And she hadn’t realized that until Mexico.
“Let’s do this.” Camila motioned for them to get a move on.
Carter had texted the team twenty minutes ago that the headline singer was considered a no-show, so the plan was falling into place. At least, so far. And one of Camila’s teammates confirmed Jorge’s arrival at the club ten minutes ago and that he was now with Miguel and Camila’s scientist. Jesse and Ivy were at Jorge’s table as well.
Sydney hung back as everyone started toward the elevators, then reached for Beckett’s arm. “You okay?” she whispered.
“No,” he said while turning her way. “But I’ll get through this,” he added in a rougher voice that time.
“I’ve got you,” she promised and gave his arm a quick squeeze.
“Not sure if I deserve that.” His words had her pausing. She caught Mya’s eyes down the hall and waved her off, telling her to head down without them.
“Be there in a second,” she told the others, and Gray nodded before disappearing into the elevator last.
“Why wouldn’t you deserve me?” She assumed that’s what he’d implied, and his hands diving into his pockets and the tight strain of his jaw had her worry catching back up with her. His dark gaze met hers, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
“Because we’re in this situation because of me. Because I was stupid enough to let myself get conned by Cora and—”
“I hate her for hurting you. For hurting McKenna. But she’s your past.” Sydney reached for his hand and set his palm over her heart. “I’m here. Your present.” Your future?
He smoothed his thumb in small, back-and-forth motions where his hand lay near her breast.
“I’d never hurt you like that,” she found herself promising because, in a matter of days, this man had revived parts of her that’d been dead or lying dormant for years.
“Same,” he whispered, the look in his eyes saying so much more than that one word.
They both nodded in silent understanding and made their way to the club.
Sydney spotted their team two tables away from Jesse’s before her gaze moved to Ivy sitting between him and Miguel. But before Sydney had a chance to truly assess the con artist, the billionaire was on his feet cursing.
What do you mean the singer didn’t show? Jorge hollered in Spanish at a man Sydney assumed was the manager standing next to him.
Sydney sat opposite Beckett, her eyes riveted on Mya sitting next to him. “You ready?” she mouthed. Mya tipped her head in a nervous nod, but she didn’t waste time and stood.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Oliver grabbed Mya’s wrist and tugged, but she ignored him.
“There’s been a change of plans.” Sydney peered at Beckett. “Mya’s going to be singing tonight instead.”
“Excuse me,” Mya called out toward Jorge’s table. “I’d be happy to sing with the band.”
Jorge and the club manager swiveled their focus her way. “Who are you?” the manager asked.
Miguel was on his feet now alongside Jorge, whispering something into his ear as they both studied Sydney’s table.
“You can sing twenties music?” Jorge asked Mya in English.
“Why don’t you be the judge of that?” Mya asked, already playing the role perfectly and sauntering a bit closer to his table.
Jorge said something to the manager, then nodded at Mya. “Go for it, beautiful. Win me over.” He flashed her a smile before taking his seat again.
“Give me a few moments to talk to the band,” Mya requested.
“Cinco minutos,” Jorge told her.
“What the hell is happening?” Oliver hissed. “Why is she doing this?”
Before Sydney could explain, Beckett was on his feet and circling the table. He held out a hand for her. “A word, please.”
Sydney stood and accepted Beckett’s palm. He guided her down a dimly lit hallway and pinned her against a door, the wood cold against the exposed skin of her back.
He cocked his head, studying her. “Why?”
“There are several reasons, but honestly, I just couldn’t bring myself to be like Cora,” she whispered. “To sing and seduce. To con.”
Beckett continued to gaze at her silently.
“After the hell you’ve been through . . .” She freed a harsh breath from her lungs before continuing, “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you, and if I were to do that and—”
Beckett dropped his mouth over hers, stealing her words. He held her face gently while kissing her hard and with so much passion she forgot where they were.
“You,” he said between kisses. “I don’t know what to say.” Another quick kiss before pulling back slightly. “You’re everything to me.”
The sincerity of his words shot her straight in the heart, and her mouth went still against his lips.
Beckett leaned back to catch her eyes as she searched for what to say, but at the sound of the saxophone playing, she turned her head toward the music coming from the dining room.
“We should head back.” He pushed away from the wall. “They were playing this song at Capone last weekend,” he commented as Mya began singing the lyrics Sydney taught her earlier for “It Don’t Mean A Thing.”
The band behind Mya crooned “Do-op, do-op, do-op” just as Sydney and Beckett re-entered the room, and Sydney focused on Jorge, who appeared already enamored by Mya.
Sydney caught Jesse’s eyes as they neared his table, his gaze quickly falling so they didn’t reveal they knew each other. Although, it was hard not to eyeball Ivy, wedged between Jesse and Miguel, and shoot daggers her way.
Beckett placed his palm on Sydney’s back, and his touch helped steady her nerves. He pulled her chair out for her at the table and scooted her in.
When Sydney looked up, she spied Camila tapping at her mouth, and oh . . .
My lipstick. Probably smeared. She quickly dragged a finger beneath her bottom lip in hopes of erasing the evidence of her make-out session with Beckett and nodded her thanks.
When the song ended, Jorge was on his feet applauding enthusiastically, then gestured for Mya to continue. But when he lowered to his seat, his gaze averted to Sydney, sending chills up her spine at his undivided attention. He raised his wineglass her way while talking to the club manager hanging by his table. The manager’s focus fell to Sydney before nodding as if Jorge had given him a directive.