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CHAPTER ELEVEN

FALIN

Every word of caution that I’ve heard from Blake and the guys plays on a loop through my mind as we pull up the winding drive toward the massive stone mansion owned by the Fairfax’s. It has to be the most opulent home I’ve ever seen, yet it looms ahead through the gently falling snow like a monster lying in wait.

We pass a circular fountain, ice-covered and dusted white. The statue’s vacant eyes seem to follow mine, a warning in them to stay put. I can’t do that, even if I wanted to.

I keep my eyes trained ahead at the warm light spilling from the tall windows, and the smoke drifting from one of the chimneys blending into the darkening winter sky. As we approach the main entrance, I see the other cars ahead—all black luxury vehicles, making Damon’s 1970 muscle car stand out like a sore thumb.

“Are you ready?” Jasper asks, his voice lower than normal. He seems to have soaked up some of the anxiety that’s been radiating off of me since this afternoon, when all of this became real.

I’d shopped for the gown and mask. I’d gone over the details of the plan with the guys. I’d even voiced all my concerns to Blake in private, except for those nagging personal thoughts about a night alone with Jasper, pretending to be his wife. Those were living rent free in my head—little images of Jasper in a black tux and mask, offering me his arm like my own personal dark knight. I know it’s ridiculous, but the thoughts persist, no matter how many times I try to shove them away.

I’ve never done anything like this before. Dangerous activities that were actually quite safe, sure—like skydiving, or cliff jumping, or even picking up random guys in bars. But nothing like walking into a lion’s den with a gun strapped to my thigh and my trusty switchblade hidden in my cleavage.

I’ve been behind a desk, where I have complete control over my surroundings. Where the scariest thing that’s happened to me was my hard drive crashing. I breathe in a large gulp of air, letting Jasper’s fresh scent calm my nerves. “Yeah, I’m ready. Are you? You’ve been quiet for the last twenty minutes.”

He nods slowly. “You don’t have to do this, you know? I can go in there alone.” His eyes meet mine, sincere and pleading. If he thinks I’d bail on the group, then he doesn’t know me like I think he does. Once I put my mind to something, I follow through, nevermind if it tests my boundaries or even scares the hell out of me. I’ve chosen to be a part of this team—to help them bring these assholes down and find Jasper’s sister, and that’s what I’ll do.

“No, I want to do this.” Hearing my own voice say those words strengthens my resolve. “Plus, you’ll need me in there,” I add in a teasing tone.

He leans closer, the deep rumble of his voice sending a shiver down my body straight to my core. “Oh really? Want to bet on that?”

“That I’ll end up saving your ass? I like my odds.” I cross my arms and lift my chin, the picture of confidence. Am I bluffing? Yes. But he doesn’t need to know that.

He plays with a strand of hair that hangs loose at my shoulder before brushing it back. My breath hitches, but I force myself to stay still, to not let him know how much his touch affects me. “And what should we wager?”

I think for a moment. What would I want from Jasper Shea if I could have anything? Then it comes to me. “Winner gets to ask one question, the loser has to answer honestly. No bullshit.”

This could bite me in the ass, but maybe it’ll help me get closure about Blake’s birthday. Knowing he can’t feed me some excuse or lie about why he turned me down. Why he hasn’t said a word about that night. I’d finally find out if he really doesn’t remember us hooking up, or if it’s more than that.

He blinks, his deep blue eyes zeroing in on my lips, before meeting my gaze. “You sure about that, Trouble?”

“That’s the only thing I want.”

“Okay then.” He holds his hand out. “Shake on it?”

I take his hand, the rough calluses of his palm and warmth of his skin sending a rush through me that I desperately try to hide behind a confident smile. The reality of what we’re walking into leaves my mind as his fingers envelop my hand, gently squeezing. A silent gesture that says I’m right here with you, we’ve got this.

A younger looking man dressed in a warm winter coat with reflective stripes down the arms taps on the outside of the window, and I pull my hand from his grasp. “You have your weapons strapped in?” he whispers.

I pat my upper thigh, feeling the outline of Damon’s gun. “Yes.”

I roll down the window using the manual knob, and the man peeks his head in. “Good evening. I presume you’re here for the gala?”

“Yes, my wife and I were invited personally,” Jasper says.

“May I see your identification?” Jasper’s features arrange themselves into a mask of entitled annoyance, and I have to admit he’s surprisingly good at channeling trust fund brat. We planned for this though, and I’m so glad that we did. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s a mandatory precaution set by Mr. Fairfax.”

After some grumbling, Jasper produces the false ID that Leon got for him from his jacket pocket. “What are they hiding in there? The Hope Diamond?” Jasper jokes, a slippery edge to his voice.

“I apologize again, Mr. Whitaker.” He hands Jasper the ID back. “And I’m assuming this is… Mrs. Whitaker? ” The way he asks has me wondering if we’re not the only ones pretending to be husband and wife tonight.

Jasper rests a palm on my thigh, scorching the skin beneath the silky fabric of my dress. “Of course. My lovely wife, Mischa.”

I can barely concentrate on their exchange with his hand so high up on my thigh.

“Give me one moment, please.” The man pulls a device out of his pocket and scrolls, likely checking the guest list.

I whisper to Jasper. “You can move your hand now.”

He gives a gentle squeeze, spreading his long fingers out so they cover the majority of my thigh. “I don’t know, wife . I think we should play it safe until he comes back.”

“You know I have a blade between my tits, right? Don’t make me pull it out.” Whispering ruins my chance of sounding as menacing as I intended, but I can’t risk raising my voice with that guy in earshot.

Jasper lets out a low laugh. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“There’s something wrong with you,” I say through gritted teeth, and shove his hand off me. In the seconds it takes for the guy to direct us to valet parking, I picture all the ways I’d love to make Jasper unravel.

Paddle his bare ass.

Paint him in hot wax until he learns to ask nicely before his hands wander.

Edge him until he’s crying like a baby, begging to come.

I smile, and it must look evil. He’ll never know the thoughts behind it, or the way heat pools low in my belly.

“You don’t know the worst of it, sweetheart.” He turns the wheel, driving slowly toward the rest of the guests exiting their cars. “Let’s do this thing. Turn on your earpiece so Leon can hear you.”

I pull the small device out of my palm-sized clutch purse and fit it into my ear the way Leon showed me earlier. I click the miniscule button, and adjust my hair over my ear. “Leon? Can you hear me?”

“Copy,” Leon responds, sounding official. Once that’s in place, I pull on my mask. It’s black to match my gown, with silver embellishments that I added myself the other night. I’m happy with how it came out. At a passing glance, it almost looks expensive.

“All good?” Jasper asks, as he adjusts his own communication device and black mask. He’ll have to be careful not to get too close to anyone, as his hair doesn’t fully cover his ear like mine. I nod while he whispers to Leon.

Once we’re ready, I move to open my car door, but his hand shoots out and grasps my gloved wrist. “Let me.”

Huffing, I nod. Might as well let him try to act like a gentleman. It’ll be interesting to see, at least.

He steps out of the car, and as he passes by the headlights, I’m struck by how damn hot he looks in his tux. It could have been custom-tailored just for him, the fabric hugging every muscled curve of his chest and arms as if straining to contain him. The pants hardly restrain his thick thighs. I can only imagine how good his ass looks in them. Shit, am I drooling?

He opens my door, letting in a blast of cold air that chills me to the bone. My breath hitches but I force myself to climb out of the car, taking Jasper’s outstretched hand. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” he says, flashing me an obnoxiously gorgeous smile.

He hands the valet the car key and we follow another couple into the house. For a girl like me, who grew up in rural Ohio and has bounced from city apartment to city apartment, walking into a home like the one towering in front of us is absolutely wild. But then again, my life’s been a wild ride since Jasper’s come into it.

We’re asked for our names again at the door, but this time the whole ordeal takes less than a minute. No one questions us about our identities, at least not yet. I release a breath, feeling the tension I’ve been holding leave my shoulders.

“We’re in,” Jasper whispers to Leon. He takes my hand and we follow the couple ahead of us down a wide hall lined with gilded oil paintings and brocade window treatments toward the sound of instrumental music.

“Do you find it odd that apart from the music, it’s super quiet?” Jasper asks. I’m impressed by his observation skills. I hadn’t noticed until he said something, too busy taking in the artwork covering almost every spare inch of wall.

“I didn’t before, but I do now. Do you think we’re early?”

He checks his watch and shrugs. “We’re right on time. Maybe in their world, that’s early. I guess we’ll see.” As we round a corner, a woman appears seemingly out of nowhere. She’s not wearing a mask, and is dressed in black pants and a white button down. Must be a staff member.

“Right this way,” she says, in a singsong voice, gesturing toward the large door ahead. I decide to take a chance and talk to her.

“Are we early to the party?” I let out a nervous laugh. “It’s our first time here.”

Her eyes dart between us and she smiles, definitely a practiced expression. “Not at all. You’re right on time. Here you are.”

She opens the door and it’s as if we’re looking at an entirely different space. A jazz quartet plays upbeat music from the corner of the large ballroom. Rhythmic bass line and piano melodies float above the hum of conversation. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, intimate glow throughout the space, almost fooling me into believing the people here are warm too. About fifty of them, masked and elegantly dressed, cluster in groups around high cocktail tables draped with midnight blue linens, while silver and gold New Year’s decorations shimmer throughout. Ice sculptures glitter on silver stands near the busy bar, and servers walk around holding trays packed with delicious looking hors d’oeuvres. The room manages to feel overwhelmingly huge and intimate at once, with plush seating areas tucked into alcoves and corners, offering quieter spaces away from the main floor.

Normally, I’d appreciate that about a party, but now I just think of all the nooks and crannies Jasper and I will have to keep eyes on.

“So what should I look for?” Other than getting in, the guys didn’t have much of a plan.

“Nothing in particular. We’ll know when we see it. Let’s get a drink.” With my hand still folded into his, he leads me toward the bar. I know I shouldn’t drink. My reflexes need to be in top form, but it is a party, and I don’t want to look out of place. Maybe just one to help settle my nerves.

Jasper orders for me—a vodka cranberry with a splash of seltzer. My usual drink. I pull my hand out of his and run my fingers over the edge of the bar. “How did you know?”

His eyes shine brightly through the mask as he turns to look at me. “What?”

“My drink. That’s what I always order.”

We’re interrupted before he can answer. A broad-shouldered man knocks into Jasper, making him stumble against the bar. His face is fully concealed by a silver mask, the only visible features being his dark hair with graying temples, nearly black eyes, and hard lips.

“Sorry.” He sticks a hand out to steady Jasper. “Party just started and I’m already tripping to get to the bar. Don’t let the wife know.” He laughs too hard at his own joke.

“No harm done.” Jasper nods and smiles in a perfunctory way, but I notice how his eyes wander, assessing the man without making it obvious.

After ordering a whiskey neat, the man turns back to us, giving us a once-over. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He states it as a fact, not a question, before sticking his hand out toward Jasper again, completely ignoring me. Not that I want his attention, but it’s hard to keep my eyes from rolling with how blatantly sexist this man is. “Harrison Fairfax, party host and owner of two left feet apparently.”

Ah, so this is Mr. Fairfax. He looks harmless enough, but there is something about his demeanor that makes me want to run for the hills. Jasper shakes his hand, slipping back into his Mr. Charming act. “Thanks for having us. What are you drinking?”

Avoiding giving his name. Nice touch.

Jasper leans against the bar, pulling Fairfax’s attention away from me. I figure now is a better time than any to do a lap around.

With my drink in hand, I stick to the perimeter, taking note of my surroundings. The first thing I notice is the lack of women here. Other than servers bustling around, I’ve only spotted two or three other women compared to at least thirty men. That’s a red flag if I’ve ever seen one.

“Leon, you there?” I try to speak without making it obvious. When he doesn’t answer right away, I bring my drink close to my lips, using that as a way to cover my mouth and raise my voice. “Leon?”

Still nothing.

“Shit.” There’s got to be something up with the connection. “Jasper, can you hear me?”

Nothing. Not even static.

And this is why there always needs to be a backup plan and then a backup to the backup plan. It’s fine though. There’s nothing so terrible going on that I need to panic. I’ll find the restroom and see if I can figure out what’s up. It actually feels good to have something to focus on. Tech, I can do. Mingling with creepy dudes, hard pass.

It doesn’t take me long to find the restroom. Once I’m in, I remove my mask and take way too much time trying to figure out the problem. So much time that I jump out of my skin when someone knocks at the door.

Frustrated that I’m unable to fix the problem, I shove the earpiece into my purse, adjust my mask, and slip out past a grumbling man. “It’s all yours.”

“About time,” he says.

“Friendly crowd,” I murmur as the bathroom door slams shut inches from my face.

I spot Jasper talking animatedly with a group of men around a cocktail table. They’re laughing about who knows what. How does he make it look so easy? I down the rest of my drink in two gulps and make my way toward the bar. He finds me in the crowd, his eyes locking onto mine, sending a spark through my veins.

He places a hand on one of the men’s shoulders and excuses himself with a smile. Each step he takes in my direction has my chest loosening and my heart beating extra fast. I look closely at the ice in my glass to keep myself from staring.

As he reaches me, the music changes tempo and a voice sounds above the noise of conversation. “This one is for the couples. Come on up to the dance floor.” The band begins to play “At Last.” As the vocals drift out in a sultry, almost hypnotic way, a couple nearby gravitates toward the dance floor. I know there won’t be many couples out there, and already all eyes are on that lone pair, but when Jasper holds his hand out to me, brow raised and corner of his lip turned up, I don’t hesitate.

“Dance with me, Trouble.”