Mischief in Miami (6 page)

I still wanted to be on the beach, but I wanted to put some distance between the last hotel and my new one. After circling Ocean Drive a couple of times, I settled on a quieter hotel that wasn’t right in the middle of it all. It wasn’t quite as luxurious as the last hotel, but the suite was bigger. Once I’d unpacked, I wandered into the bathroom to take a bath.

I avoided the full length mirror on the wall as well as the one over the sink. I knew that for most women, mirrors were either their best friends or their worst enemies, but for me, they were more like ghosts. I was conscious of them, but I did my best to ignore them.

I’d been soaking for all of five minutes before one of my phones chimed. I groaned, but I fumbled through my handbag until I found the ringing phone.

Shit. That was fast.

I took a moment to compose myself before answering. “Hello.”

“I’m struck with monogamy.”

Of course he was. Most men are struck with anything if you give them enough motivation.

“And why do I find that hard to believe?”

“Because you’re you and I’m me,” Daniel said. “That’s why.”

That was the first true thing I’d heard him say.

“I take it you’re calling because you received my envelope.”

“Those were first-class tickets, you know? A woman’s a fool to turn those down.”

“Or maybe you’re the fool for giving them to a woman you barely know,” I replied.

He didn’t have an immediate response. “Maybe, but I feel a little foolish when I’m around you.”

Good. Then I was doing my job.

“You act a little foolish when you’re around me,” I replied. Then, because the sooner I closed out the Silva file, the sooner I could be finished with the Mr. Silva, I turned the faucet on with my toe so water started trickling into the tub.

“Do you need any help?” he asked, his voice low and confident.

Cocky bastard.

“None that requires your assistance,” I nearly snapped back.

“So what am I supposed to do now that I know, wherever you are right now, you’re naked and probably soaping that beautiful body of yours?”

Add
brazen
to the cocky bastard lineup.

“Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t you go find one of those four girls I’ve seen you with over the past few days? I’m sure they’ve got something that could help you out.”

Daniel chuckled. “They’ve got something that could help me out, but not
the
thing to help me out.”

“If you hadn’t tracked me down at my hotel to deliver airline tickets to Nice, I’d ask you who you think’s got
the
thing to help you, but that would make me seem dumb or naive.”

“Which you are neither,” he answered.

“Flattery gets you nowhere with me.”

“And honesty won’t either.”

Hmm.Another kernel of truth from the mouth of Daniel Silva. “I’m afraid you’re right.” I turned the water back off.

“Which is why I must have the opportunity to see if I’m wrong. Just in case. We owe it to ourselves.”

“We owe what to ourselves?” I asked. I’d heard the answer to that question so many times, I could mouth it word for word before the Target even replied.

“To find out if the chemistry that sparks to life when I just look at you transfers into everything else.”

Translation: I want to fuck you sideways, backward, frontward, and maybe even while you’re running because I’m an impulsive little boy stuck in a man’s body who never had anyone tell him no when he was growing up.

“What are you asking, Daniel?” I said with a sigh. “Because I’m not going to the French Riviera with you. I’m not really your south of France type of girl.”

“Every girl is your south of France type of girl.”

“Not this one. I think you’ll find me different from every other girl you’ve ever known.” He had no idea just how different. The wives knew about us Eves, but the husbands never did. Other than getting caught on camera with a siren they just couldn’t say no to, the only thing they realized at the end of it all was that half of their fortune was leaving with their wife.

“So does different-from-every-other-girl Sienna want to have dinner with me tomorrow?” He still sounded pretty damn sure of himself, but not as much as he had in our earlier conversations. I had him back on his toes, following after that carrot I’d dangled just in front of his face. I could ease off of the hard-to-get act.

“If by dinner you mean food and a good bottle of wine and nothing more, then okay,” I said.

Another silence on the other end, but it was quickly over. “Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock. I’ll send a driver to pick you up.”

“Since someone went all secret agent on me, I moved. You don’t know where I am.” I smiled. I loved it when I could stay not one, but two steps ahead of the Target.

“Sienna, I know exactly where you are. I know exactly when you checked in,” he replied in a low voice. It wasn’t creepy, just . . . menacing. Dominant. “I even know what room you’re in.”

Just then, someone knocked on the door. I flinched, but I thankfully didn’t make any audible noise.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Daniel said before ending the call.

Another knock sounded before I’d crawled out of the tub and into a bathrobe. If that was Daniel on the other side of the door, I wouldn’t be happy. I would be supremely pissed.

However, if that smug face of his
was
waiting for me, I couldn’t do what a normal boy pursuing girl relationship allowed. I couldn’t slap his cheek or yell at him to go get bent, because our relationship wasn’t “normal.” This wasn’t a surreptitious man meets woman, woes woman, pisses woman off kind of thing. This was a job. I was an actor on a stage giving the performance of my life.

Still, I sighed with relief when I checked the peephole. Only a bellman. He’d better not have an envelope with a couple of first-class tickets to Tahiti in his hand or else I’d send them back, too.

“Good evening, ma’am,” the elderly bellman greeted as he held out a large silver box.

Daniel was persistent. Most of them were. It made my job easier.

“Thank you.” I took the package and set it on the sofa table before rushing back to the bathroom to pull a tip from my wallet. I was going through tip money faster than normal on that trip, thanks to Daniel and his extravagant gifts.

“Anything else I can get you this evening, ma’am?” the bellman asked, nodding his head as I handed him the tip.

“Yeah,” I said. “If any more gifts, envelopes, or packages arrive for me, please just don’t accept them. It saves me from having to send them back.”

“Can do, ma’am,” the bellman said with a chuckle as he headed for the elevator. “Man troubles?”

I lifted my eyebrows. “Always.”

IT WAS A dress. A nice one. The price tag had been removed, but I didn’t need it to know that Daniel had spent five figures. It was red, curve-hugging, and cleavage-showing. Mrs. Silva really did know her husband. It was a gorgeous gown, something I could have picked out, but as I got ready the next night for our dinner date, it stayed in the box.

If I wore that dress, it would be a mini-surrender. It would be a victory, and I couldn’t give him that victory yet. I had to keep him motivated, and if I caved even a bit, he would believe the ball was back in his court.

Which it wasn’t.

With men like Daniel, I had to keep them in such a crazed state that when the time came, I could dictate the time and location of our “consummation,” and they wouldn’t only be there, they’d be there bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Keeping the Target motivated, crazed, and eager to please was the very crux of the Eve business. Spontaneous sex or giving-yourself-to-the-moment didn’t get husbands caught cheating on film.

A few minutes before eight, I punched a message into my phone:
That whole if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again doesn’t work with me
. As I hit send, I imagined Daniel’s expression when he read it and allowed myself a smile.

I’d just slid into my heels and was heading for the door when his reply came:
That’s where your opinion and mine differ
.

Cocky, cocky,
cocky
bastard. If he wasn’t an Errand, I would never, in this life or the next, let him near me.

However, it was an Errand, so I needed to shelve all of my personal thoughts and feelings on him. An Eve didn’t successfully close an Errand unless she checked personal at the door when she was working. And she didn’t stay in the business for long if she didn’t repress personal a good portion of the time when she wasn’t on the job.

Once I’d made my way through the foyer, I found a black Bentley waiting for me outside. A driver waited with the back door open.

“I suppose you’re waiting for me?” I said as I approached.

“I was told I’d be picking up a beautiful woman in a red dress,” the driver replied, “but I’m sure Mr. Silva won’t complain if I’ve got the wrong woman.”

I gave him a smile as I slid inside of the car. “I’m sure he wouldn’t.”

Before the driver closed the door, he paused. “So, which one are you? The right or the wrong woman?”

I looked him in the eyes and answered, “Both.”

“Sounds like Mr. Silva’s a lucky man,” he added with a laugh before closing the door.

In fact, Mr. Silva’s luck was about to run out.

Not even ten minutes later, we pulled up to a familiar place. The line winding around the side wasn’t as long as it had been on Friday night, but still, The Pleasure Room was busy.

I couldn’t believe the son of a bitch had brought me there for a dinner date. He’d probably screwed a girl over every accommodating surface. I wasn’t happy.

But tonight wasn’t about being happy. It was about driving him mad so when I gave him the time and place of his forthcoming demise, he’d shake his head and wag his tail. Tonight wasn’t about keeping him at arm’s length anymore—tonight was about bringing him closer.

By the time the driver came around to open the door, I’d recomposed my face, adjusted my dress, and was ready to saunter into that place as though I might have wanted to be somewhere else, but not with any
body
else.

The driver inclined his head at one of the giants hovering in front of the Pleasure Room’s entrance. “Dimitri over there will take you to Mr. Silva.”

“Thank you for the ride,” I said.

“Glad I found the right-wrong woman,” was his reply before climbing back into the driver’s seat.

Dimitri had the rope open for me as I approached and gave me a professional nod of acknowledgement. From the way he’d barely looked at me, I guessed Daniel had threatened to cut off his dick if Dimitri made a pass at me.

He said, just as professionally, “Right this way.”

“Lucky me,” I said with a fake smile as I followed.

The Pleasure Room was just as busy as it had been this past weekend. Most of the bodies were congregated around the stage. One dancer in particular caught my attention. She was similar in appearance to myself, except her face looked foreign. Eastern European? Russian? Every girl up on that stage was gorgeous, but the way she moved, the way she danced made her the only one anyone noticed. She wasn’t just a dancer; she was a performer. A quick scan of the crowd revealed I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t seem to look away. In the most heterosexual way, I was enamored by her.

She would have made one hell of an Eve.

“Who is that?” I hollered at Dimitri, who was parting the sea of people in front of us.

“Natasha,” he said over his shoulder. He glanced up at the stage right as she started playing with the snap of her garter. He smiled while the rest of the crowd cheered their heads off. “She’s something else, right?”

“She sure is,” I agreed. That woman didn’t just have everyone eating out of her hand. If she’d ordered them to jump off of a cliff, I didn’t doubt a good number of them would. She was that hypnotic.

After we wove our way through the crowd, Dimitri shoved open a door to a staircase.

“No elevator?” I said, being difficult with him because I couldn’t with Daniel.

“Not where we’re going,” Dimitri answered, motioning me up the staircase.

I almost wished I had let Mrs. Silva know tonight was the night and to have her Contact ready to go. I was getting dangerously close to being done in on Daniel’s particular brand of bull shit.

My heels clacked up a few flights of the metal staircase. I glanced back to see if Dimitri was following, and sure enough, he was. As a testament to what a devoted employee Dimitri was, his eyes weren’t locked on my ass as it swayed up the stairs. It was a good thing Dimitri wasn’t the Errand, or I’d have had my work cut out for me.

Finally, the stairs ran out, and Dimitri stepped in front of me to shove open a heavy metal door. Where in the hell was I being taken? Romance had flown out the window a few flights ago. Once Dimitri moved to the side, I saw where I was: the roof. Several strings of white paper lanterns hung above us, and toward the edge of the roof sat a small table adorned with candles and flowers. The view was unparalleled. Nothing but the ocean as far as the eye could see, colored by the pinks and oranges of the sunset. The whole scene was romantic in a way I hadn’t expected.

And then a body stepped into my line of sight.

Romance wasn’t the job. Doing whatever it took to succeed was the job.

“Sir,” Dimitri said formally, bowing his head.

“Thank you, Dimitri,” Daniel said, “You can leave us alone. And if you hear a lot of shrieking and screaming later on, you can ignore it.”

I made myself smile at him. I made myself flush with excitement. I made myself shut off my instincts and remember my training. In those moments, when I had to shut almost all of myself off, I always felt more machine than human.

After Dimitri had closed the door, I approached Daniel slowly. He was dressed to impress, and the man could certainly fill out a tuxedo. If he could keep his mouth shut, I might have found him attractive, but keeping his mouth shut, kind of like keeping his dick behind his zipper, wasn’t his forte.

“I’m not sure whether to be incredibly angry or incredibly turned on that you’re not wearing the dress I got you.” His dark eyes gleamed as I moved closer. I hadn’t chosen to wear the one he’d gotten me, but the black, beaded dress barely long enough to cover the bottom of my butt-cheeks wasn’t a poor substitute. The twisted smile on his face confirmed that.