Page 19 of Devil's Azalea

He speeds up and suddenly cuts in front of me, blocking my path. “That’s the way to the theater, ma’am.” He gestures politely, but his expression is anything but.

“I suppose your interference would be helpful—if I were actually heading to the theater.” I lay the accent on thick, deliberately pitching my voice to carry to Jason, who pauses mid-conversation to glance our way. “But I believe I have a date with that man standing right there.” I nod towards the councilor.

Jason dismisses his entourage with a flick of his wrist and strolls over, brows climbing, eyes twinkling as he takes me in. “Carol?”

The bodyguard retreats a step, gaze darting between us uncertainly.

“In the flesh, darling.” I flash my most dazzling smile, channeling every ounce of Carol Walker’s refined confidence.

The real Carol has been invited to this thing twice before and never once showed, always choosing to buy auction items througha proxy. But this year, Jason Moore personally reached out to let her know that a piece of art she’d been searching for over the past six months would be on his auction block. The two got to chatting, and he promised to be her guide for the evening, since she expressed reservations about navigating a crowd of strangers.

“Wow, look at you—you’re stunning. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.” With a subtle nod, Jason has the guard melting into the background as he shakes my hand.

“High praise coming from a man like you,” I say flirtatiously, earning a low chuckle from him.

“Come on, the show is about to start. Let me take you to my box seat.” He offers me the crook of his arm, which I accept with gracious poise.

We walk through the now-quiet hall, and I’m hyperaware of the eyes on us—his security detail. I count four, but I’m pretty sure there are more lurking out of sight.

If I’m going to make a move, it’ll have to be when we’re alone.

That means enduring the full hours-long ballet and then some, because he’s scheduled to give another speech after the show to kick off the auction. People would definitely notice if he were suddenly… unavailable.

I keep the charm turned up to eleven as he escorts me to his private box, where two security men are standing guard. Yeah, I for sure can’t do anything here.

The box is different from the usual theater balconies. There’s thick glass separating us from the rest of the audience—insulated, soundproof, and I’d bet my last dollar it’s bulletproof.

“This seat has the best view in the theater,” Jason brags, casually draping his arm across my shoulders.

My spine stiffens involuntarily.Relax, I command myself. “I can tell. It’s like we’re standing right in front of the stage.” I adda little giggle for good measure, acting suitably impressed, and he preens at the validation.

A somber string of orchestra music filters through hidden speakers inside the box, and a lone ballerina pirouettes onto the stage, looking morose. The crowd claps. I suppose this could be an intriguing start if you’re into these types of shows.

I feign interest in the performance while conducting a thorough assessment of my surroundings. Jason wasn’t lying—thisisthe best view. Not only is the stage right in front of us, but with the way the box is angled, I can see almost everyone in the audience, including the people in the other box seats.

Except for one.

The box next to ours has blacked-out windows. Whoever is in there can see out, but nobody can see in.

Who the hell needs that kind of privacy? A surprise VIP? Someone with something to hide?

Whatever. Doesn’t fucking matter. My target is Jason. And if I’m going to convince him to take me up to his office during the auction, I need to ramp up my seduction act.

But it turns out, I don’t even need to try.

For the next hour, Jason takes on the role of seducer like he’s been rehearsing for it all week, his fingers brushing my bare shoulders as he talks. And he talks a lot. He can’t seem to shut up. Bombarding me with boasts about his role as a councilor, about his business ventures—blah blah blah…

It’s all fluff. Nothing useful. Just an ego parade meant to impress some high-rolling art collector. He even invites me to his home to come check out his “gorgeouscollection”—and judging by the way he wiggles his brows, it’s clear that’s not all he wants me to see.

He’s married, for God’s sake. Even if his wife isn’t big on public appearances, married is married no matter what.

Not that his infidelity matters to my mission, but it adds another layer of disgust to his character.

By the time the final notes of the ballet fade and the dancers take their bows, I’m desperate to escape his suffocating presence. I’ve had enough of him. No way I’m following him to his office now. I’m changing the plan.

“Well, thank you for an entertaining evening,” I tell him as I start to get up. Jason follows me smoothly, moving into my space. We’ve been flirting for an hour; it’d be weird if I just walked out.

So I lean in—barely having to bend given his diminutive stature—and press a soft kiss to his cheek, leaving behind a perfect imprint of toxin-laced lipstick.