Page 29 of Lovely Venom

I lift my eyes. “At a fundraiser?”

“With mobsters?” he scoffs like I’m stupid.

Admittedly, I would feel better armed. My emotional-support eight-inch black fixed blade will sit nicely under all the tulle of a ridiculously big dress.

“And you think Connor will like me enough to bring me somewhere I can take him out?”

“Exactly.” Valdrin puts his phone away and sits at my kitchen table. “Now let’s go over what you have to do.”

Too bad my next one-night stand with Connor Quinlan will be his last night on earth.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Raina

That Saturday night in Valdrin’s Mercedes, we wait twenty cars deep to get inside the Warwick Hotel.

“You look beautiful,” he says warmly.

The strapless dress I bought, after trying on way too many, clings to my curvy hips and flares out past my butt with yards of midnight-blue satin spilling down my legs. It has a tight bodice, a drop waist, and sharp reverse pleats. Not a single bead or rhinestone in sight, and yet somehow, I look expensive. And out of place. Sequins and leather are more my style, if I had a choice.

It feels too elegant. Too luxurious. I’m an awkward ex-federal agent who still wears her high-school jeans. The scandalously high slit up my thigh says danger, which suits me. The rest is all sleek sophistication I never thought I could pull off. This isn’t me. And yet, here I am, dressed like a woman who belongs in Connor’s world.

“Enjoy the view,” I grumble, answering Valdrin a few seconds later. “It’ll be the last time you see me dressed like a doll.”

“Dolls are what men like Connor Quinlan want.”

I hide a scoff.Not the Connor Quinlan who fucked me.

“But you need to tame those wild waves.” Valdrin presents me with two black tortoise hair combs wrapped in delicate lavender tissue paper.

I don’t bother to argue and push long, unruly blonde strands off my shoulder. “My hair hasn’t seen a blow dryer in a year.”

“You don’t say.” Valdrin swoops up my hair on each side and securely fastens the combs to my head. “That’sbetter.”

When I catch him studying my face, he turns away.

“Any words of advice?” I ask to break the tension. “I’m more used to hiding in the shadows collecting evidence.”

“Flirt. Make him like you.” Valdrin pulls up to the red carpet, and someone opens the door for me.

“Flirt,” I mutter, stepping out of the Benz.

“Good luck,” he tells me and drives off.

I plaster a snooty pout on my face to look like I belong at this thing. I catch myself in the tall window panels near the entrance and can’t believe it’s me.

I don’t look like me. But I look good.Really good.Connor may not even recognize me.

Stepping into the grand ballroom feels like I’m on a movie set. This doesn’t seem real. Like I’m in another world.

Gold and crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling cast a warm glow over Manhattan’s elite. Elegant tables with pure white linens, crystal glasses, and white flowers, which I heard were flown in from greenhouses in Japan, look like they’re prepared for photoshoots rather than actual meals. Every inch of this room and every guest drips with wealth and power.

I don’t need to search for very long. I spot Connor Quinlan leaning against a bar in one corner. The Irish Mob boss is with another man, deep in conversation, sporting neither a smile nor a scowl.

A slow-moving fire simmers under my skin.

What the hell was that?