Mister Black: A Billionaire SEAL Story, Part 1 (In the Shadows) (4 page)

Cass purses her lips as she adjusts her black and white French maid’s skirt. “Maybe give up the idea of trying to talk to Mina tonight. That’s one way to guarantee you won’t get caught.”

“I’m not the only one with an agenda, Miss Vixen-of-Vengeance,” I say, raising my eyebrow behind my black mask. “Care to call yours off?”

Cass makes sure the black choker around her neck is centered, then adjusts her own black mask. “Not a chance.” Smirking at me, she flicks something in front of my face. “Just in case.”

My cheeks flame at the foil wrapper between her fingers. I smack at her hand. “Put that away.”

Cass laughs and then folds it under her fingers while ringing the bell.

“Classy,” I say in a low tone to her sheer delight.

As the chimes ring throughout the house, barely heard over the upbeat dance music playing inside, I skim my gaze over her costume’s short skirt that barely covers her ass and spiked black heels. Cass had spared no expense on our outfits, keeping them authentic but also very sexy.

I’m wearing a thigh-high peasant style, off-white shirtdress over fishnet stockings and tall, spiked-heeled black boots. A black leather corset cinched over the dress, not only outlines my curves, it also pushes my boobs up to distracting heights inside the dress’s scooped neckline. My only requirement for my costume was that it had a place I could carry my phone and a small notepad and pen. Hence my red velvet, calf-length cloak with a hidden side pocket. Red Riding Hood suited my needs.

We’d come forty minutes late on purpose. That way the party would be in full swing, which meant people would be less likely to pay attention to our entrance. Cass and I exchange a knowing glance as the butler pulls open the door. Of course we chose “costumes of lowly status” on purpose. We might’ve come with agendas and roles to play, but we definitely agreed that irony should play a part too.

The Blakes’ “beach” house is a gorgeous, sprawling estate. From the Tuscan flooring to its sweeping dual stairwells flanking either side of the atrium style main room, it gives off an opulent Italian villa feel. Five sets of French doors line the farthest wall, allowing a full view of the stone terrace, lavish pool and a private beach beyond. If I weren’t on a mission, I’d explore every inch of this glorious home, but instead I hold my breath as the youngest Blake son, Damien, walks straight up to Cass and grips her hand.

Spinning her around, the rapier at his trim waist swinging with his movements, he says, “Celeste, my love. You’re going to be very distracting tonight.” His brown eyes glitter mischievously behind a black mask that blends into his clean-cut dark brown hair.

“Ah, ah…” Cass faces him, tick-tocking her finger. “It’s Naughty Maid Yvette,” she corrects him in a sultry bedroom voice.

While I suppress a chuckle, Damien reacts to her husky tone like any virile twenty-three-year old. A confident smile crooks his lips. “Ah yes, Yvette, then. I’m so very happy your plans changed.” Bending at his waist, he sweeps his short black cape and rapier back, his black boots shining. “Would you allow this fox the first dance?”

Fox? My lips twitch at his name and affected Spanish accent; the Spanish word for fox is zorro. The Blakes might be overbearingly protective, but they’re also creatively clever. I’ll give them that.

Cass bats her lashes behind her black mask, her ruby lips smiling broadly. “Ah, Z, how can I deny a wily hero such a simple request?”

Sweeping her hand toward me, Cass says, “I’ve brought a plus one. I figured you wouldn’t mind. Fox, meet Scarlett.”

I nearly choke at the name she gives me. We’d argued about my fake name all the way up the long, sweeping drive. I wanted to go by something simple like Ella, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She told me she’d surprise me with something fitting for my costume. As I mumble, “Nice to meet you,” to Damien, my gaze darts to his brother, Gavin, who’s approaching us in a custom made suit. Gavin might only be a year older than his brother, but his hazel green eyes are far sharper behind his black mask. Are the pointed ears along the edges of his mask
wolf
ears? Oy, irony abounds tonight.

Of course, he has already zeroed in on me. I swallow a nervous gulp. This is
not
good.

Even though Gavin wasn’t home that day Adam Blake refused to let me see his daughter, Gavin spotted me instantly when I walked into the restaurant where the siblings were having lunch the other day. Before Mina even noticed me, Gavin had quickly escorted me out with a cutting threat of filing a restraining order if he ever saw me again.

Shit!
My palms tingle as his calculating gaze lingers on my face. My heart short-circuits, taking my breath right along with it. Is Cass trying to get me arrested?

Gavin has almost reached us, when someone to my right takes my hand and presses warm lips to my knuckles. “I think the two ‘hoods’ should dance together for solidarity’s sake. What do you say, Scarlett?”

I turn to look at my rescuer, but can only see the outline of his angular jaw. His dark green hood is pulled much lower than mine, cloaking part of his face in shadows. He’s dressed in light brown buckskin pants and a matching shirt. A bow is crossed over his chest, and a knife and bundle of thin rope are hooked to the soft leather belt around his trim waist. A quiver of arrows shows just over his shoulder.

I quickly glance at the oldest brother, who looks annoyed at—oh, he’s ticked at the hooded guy, not me, thank God—and squeeze the fingers holding mine. “I’d love to.”

The stranger has two inches on Gavin, which is surprising. Gavin’s at least six-two. The hooded guy has to be the tallest one here. In my high-heeled black boots, I just reach his nose.

Without so much as a glance Gavin’s way, my rescuer pulls me over to the sunken area farther in the atrium where others are currently dancing to the latest pop song the DJ has queued up.

He doesn’t release my hand once we reach a spot to dance. Instead, he spins me around, saying, “You looked like a deer facing down a hungry wolf back there.”

My hood slides off my blonde hair as I make the full turn and end up facing him once more. Gavin’s gaze hasn’t left us; he’s watching me with an intense stare, so I smile up at my dance partner and let him continue to hold my hand as we dance. “I’m fine. What can a Wall Street type do to me? Bore me to death with financial stats?”

He flashes a quick smile, revealing perfect white teeth. Apparently my response amuses him, so I tilt my head and keep up the solidarity ruse. “I’ve never seen you in this part of the woods before. Come here often?”

Spinning me once more to the upbeat tune, his smile fades. “I only show up when someone needs rescuing. I’m Robin.”

“Robin? Hmmm.” I take in his size. “You’re more like an eagle, swooping in and stealing the prey away from the wolf.”

“If we’re going for metaphorical names, Miss Scarlett,” He chuckles, sliding his thumb over mine, “I have more in common with a raven than the eagle.”

“Why can’t you be an eagle?” I ask, relieved that Gavin seems to have given up on watching me. He’s talking to some people by the bar now.

“Ravens are black as sin, stealing through the night.” His deep baritone draws my attention back to him just as he switches his dancing pace with the new song starting up.

His mouth twitches slightly, like he’s amused by an inside joke. Comparing himself to a raven is so down-to-earth, I’m thrown off and a bit charmed. This guy’s not at all what I expected from the entitled types surrounding us tonight.

“Stealing through the night? Ooh, mysterious. How about I call you, Mr. Black?” I give him his name for the evening with a bestowing nod. Still holding his hand, I take a step back and spin toward him.

The second I hit his chest, his hood bends toward me. Even though I can’t see his eyes, his steady regard is palpable.

“I’m Mr. Black now?” he says, sounding intrigued. “I suppose I’ll take the moniker as a counter to yours, Miss Scarlett.”

His quick wit combined with his amazing smell is stirring all my senses. My new favorite scent is woodsy cologne and leather. I’m thoroughly fascinated. Inhaling deeply, I look up into his shadowed face, enjoying our banter. “Hmmm, black and red
are
strong, bold colors.”

“On their own, yes, but when they’re put together, they evoke a passionate response.”

My stomach flutters, reacting to the lower tone of his voice.
Are we still talking about colors?
“Very astute of you to notice. Most guys don’t make the connection between colors and emotion.”

“I’m conditioned to notice everything, Miss Scarlett,” he says in a confident tone. “There’s something about you. You definitely stand out.”

What does he mean by that?
I can’t see his eyes, but I feel them scrutinizing my face, studying it. His perusal feels too deep, probing even. Everything inside me tenses. “Conditioned?” I force a light, curious tone and immediately spin away once more. “What line of business are you in, Mr. Black?”

“Security.” With a quick tug, I’m rolled back against his chest, trapped in the circle of his hold. His smile disappears, his tone serious. “For the record, ravens are just as predatory as wolves, maybe even more so for their cunning, stealthy ways.”

Why does it feel like he’s giving me a chance to get out before I do something I’ll regret? I put my free hand on his arm, intending to step back.
There’s no way he knows who I am. I’m just projecting my fear of getting caught. Get a grip, Talia.

But when his muscles bunch under my fingers and his arm curls tighter around me, my ears begin to ring, alarm bells clanging in my head. “How interesting,” I say on a croak. God, had I avoided the wolf, only to walk into a far more devious hunter’s trap?

Holding my breath, I mentally walk through my entrance to the party. What made me stand out? Did I do something to give myself away? My hair is blonde and the black mask hides half my face. I don’t have any distinctive moles anywhere or tattoos on my body, and my eyes are green, not an uncommon color. Do I have a “tell” I don’t know about?

While my insides start to rev, preparing for flight, he turns me fully toward him, a pleased smile canting his lips. “I’m glad that doesn’t scare you away.”

What doesn’t scare me…ravens? Oh no, he’s talking about him being in security. Wait?
Is
he coming on to me?
Once my brain reconciles the lowered huskiness in his comment as definite interest, the fear subsides and my pounding heart slows. I finally remember to breathe.

As I drag in a lungful of air, his intoxicating smell filters through, relaxing the tension inside me.
What cologne is he wearing? I want to bathe in it. I feel both revved and boneless at the same time.
“You rescued me from a wolf. Why would I be scared away?” I bat my eyelashes and play my doe eyes up, trying not to show just how rattled I am. “You don’t usually play with your food before you eat it, do you?”

Strong arms pin me to his hard body. “Depends.” He dips his head, and his voice drops to a sexy rumble next to my ear. “Is that an invitation?”

The warmth of his mouth against my ear elicits a jolt of sizzling awareness. I’ve been hit on with blunt directness from guys who’ve had several drinks, but this kind of intimate, seductive innuendo, in the middle of a smart, sexy verbal exchange, throws me off-kilter. Goose bumps scatter across every inch of exposed skin, and I’m momentarily stunned into silence. Damn this man is dangerously potent. I don’t know whether to run or jump his bones. I’ve never reacted to a stranger like this before. Then again, I’ve never had a man seduce my mind and my body at the same time. The combination electrifies every nerve ending.

“Invitation?” I breathe out.

Threading his fingers in my hair, he traces his thumb along my ear, slowly following its curves. “I wonder…what
does
Scarlett taste like?”

My breathing halts as his mouth glides across my cheek, my pulse thrumming.

“Take a breath,” he murmurs against my temple, “Better yet, let’s breathe together.”

The assuredness of his comment, that he assumes I’ll let him kiss me, sends a shiver of delight rushing across my flushed body, and against my better judgment, I allow him to tilt my face up.

My fingers curl against his chest and I wait. For a kiss from an enigmatic stranger I haven’t fully seen, yet I still feel inexplicably, irresistibly drawn to. It’s crazy and I can’t even blame alcohol since I haven’t had any.

Just as he lowers his mouth to mine, we’re abruptly jostled by a group of overzealous dancers who’ve apparently had more than their share of drinks.

He’s forced to yank me against him or we’ll both fall, but the jarring jolt is enough to knock some sense into me. The music rushes in my ears and it hits me; the song isn’t even a slow one, yet we’d tuned everyone out but us for a short time. I laugh at myself, at how caught up I’d gotten, and push against his chest. When his arms don’t budge, I clear my throat and look anywhere but at him.

We’re bumped again by a couple of guys goofing off, their antics breaking us apart. One of the guys grips my waist to steady me, calling out over the music, “Sorry!” Pausing, the guy—whose thick-chested body would’ve been more suited to a Frankenstein than his Dracula costume—glances down at me, then quickly twists me into a fast dip, murmuring in a suggestive tone against my neck, “Hmm, how ’bout I carry you off to my lair.”

Before I can tell him to release me, we’re both yanked upright. Black has a tight grip on his shoulder.

“Release her, Nick.” His tone is quiet, deadly.

“Chill man, just getting into my role,” Nick says in a laidback tone as he tries to shrug him off.

Black’s hand doesn’t move. “I’m going to ask you nicely once more. Take your hands off her.”

Nick narrows his gaze for a second, then releases me, raising his hands. “See, no problem.”

“Step outside to the terrace and sober up.”

“What?” Nick attempts to wave Black off, but before he can argue further, Nick’s suddenly on his knees in the middle of the crowd. “Ow, you dick! Let go of my shoulder.”