Page 31 of Silver Elite

The bar doesn’t erupt in whispers. The chatter doesn’t die. But I don’t miss the way heads turn as Cross walks by them. In his navy-blue uniform, the four silver stars that flaunt how much power he holds, he makes for an intimidating figure.

That, and he’s so devastatingly handsome that men and women alike have no choice but to stare.

His stride exudes confidence, every movement purposeful, as he makes his way to a table in the corner of the room. It’s already occupied by two men, but that’s no hindrance. At Cross’s approach, their conversation falters, drinks paused halfway to lips. Then they set their glasses down and clear out so he can take their place.

My heart skips a beat as I watch him sit in one of the vacated chairs. He looks good. Edible.

“Excuse me,” Shenise says before turning on her heel.

The moment she’s out of earshot, I spin to face the bartender—Pasha. I fumble with the strap of my bag.

“What is this?” I hiss. “Some sort of trap?”

Her brow furrows. “What?”

I don a panicked tone. “Why is a Command captain in here? Did you call to report me because I asked—”

“Relax, darling,” she interrupts, letting out a laugh. “You think he’s here for you? Well, damn. You really are na?ve.”

I allow a mixture of relief and confusion to show on my face. “Why is he here then?”

“We serve a variety of customers, some of whom, as you can see, hold high positions in society. In fact, we’ve got a very loyal customer base within the Command. They’re not here to cause trouble. They’re here to unwind like everyone else.” She shrugs. “He comes in every few weeks to blow off steam.”

My jaw falls open. “He’s a customer?”

“Indeed.”

My gaze drifts toward the staircase that leads to the second floor. “But you…”

“Run a respectable lodging for travelers to Sanctum Point,” she finishes primly. “Offering clean, comfortable accommodations.”

I purse my lips in humor. “All right.”

Across the room, Shenise is talking to Cross. He laughs at something she says. She reaches down to touch his shoulder, then leaves him to his own devices, hips swaying as she returns to the bar.

Pasha gives her a faint smile, nodding at me. “She thought you called the Command on her.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re not worth their attention. Or mine,” Shenise adds pointedly. “Unless you’ve decided to tell me who referred you to us.”

My dossier included an entire page about the source of my referral. I could have led with that information, but I thought I had a better shot of appearing trustworthy to Shenise if I showed some hesitation about snitching on my “friend.”

“Do you promise they won’t get in trouble?” I let my anxiety show.

“Of course.” She’s probably lying, but like Pasha said, my alter ego is a teeny bit na?ve.

I lower my voice. “Her name is Olive. She worked here last year before she was reassigned and had to leave the Point. We worked together in G, and when she found out I was being transferred, she told me I should look you up.” I lick my dry lips. “I’m sorry. Maybe it was a mistake.”

“How is she doing?” Shenise surprises me by asking.

With a tentative smile, I say, “She’s good. She’s pregnant now.”

This role is growing on me. I’m starting to feel like I’m actually Gilly, whose friend Olive from G is pregnant with her partner Jessa’s baby.

Pasha leaves to deliver Cross’s drink. The pure stuff, of course. Only the best for Captain Redden. She lingers at his table to chat, but I pretend not to notice.

“I’m really sorry for just showing up,” I tell Shenise. “I guess I overstepped. But I’m all alone here. My Lux account is close to empty, and this new assignment they gave me pays next to nothing.” Bitterness ripples through my voice. “If I’m supposed to build any sort of life in this city, I need credits. I need allies.”

“That’s an interesting word to use.”

“I think you can have friends in the wards. I don’t know if that’s possible here.”

She goes quiet for a moment, but just when she’s about to respond, Pasha returns, a perplexed look on her face. “Shen,” she says with a nod, and the two women disappear through a doorway beyond the bar.

I pull my comm out of my bag and pretend to read something, but it isn’t long at all before Shenise returns. She studies me, and her amusement is unmistakable.

“The captain wants you.”

My eyebrows soar. “I’m sorry. What?”

“He wants you to keep him company.”

“Oh. What if I don’t…want to do that?”

She starts to laugh. A low, melodic sound. “You said you wanted work. Let’s call this a job interview.”

“Um. All right. I guess I could do that.” I gulp. “You want me to just walk over there? Should I say hello?”

Pasha looks like she’s fighting her own wave of laughter. “Hello is a good start.”

Shenise sighs. “You might find more success if you don’t carry yourself like a frightened little mouse.”

I take a deep breath, adjusting the hem of my dress, pretending to steady my nerves. Then, as if I’ve found a surge of courage from some bravery reserve deep inside me, I square my shoulders and push away from the counter.

He tracks my every move. I’m not trying to walk sexy, but he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me.

When I reach him, I give a quick peek at the neighboring table where three soldiers sit. They regard me with curiosity before continuing their hushed conversation.

I shift my gaze to Cross. “I heard you wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” His eyes gleam with undisguised interest. “Sit. Have a drink with me.”

I’m about to lower into the chair next to him when he shakes his head and chuckles.

“Not there, sweetling.” He pats his knee. “Right here.”

I hear the soldiers snickering behind me. I hesitate for a moment. A glance at the bar shows Shenise watching me like a hawk.

Smothering a sigh, I settle onto his lap.

When my dress rides up, he plants his hand on my bare thigh, the one without the burns. The bottom of the scars on my other thigh is visible, a hint of pink, puckered flesh at the hem of my dress. I catch the soldiers eyeing it, and tug the hem down, ignoring the self-conscious flush that rises in my cheeks.

“Better?” I keep my voice steady as possible, but we both hear the tremble that sneaks through.

“Much better.” His words are like a caress, soft and tempting.

Cross wraps a muscular arm around my waist, pulling me closer.

“What’s your name?”

“Gilly. What’s yours?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he reaches for his drink. My face is so close to his that I can smell the alcohol as he takes a sip. The pale liquid wets his bottom lip, and when he licks it away, I remember the feeling of that tongue exploring my mouth.

“Tell me about yourself, Gilly.”

I feed him the same story I gave Shenise about my transfer from G. How I work in Admin. New to the city. Don’t know a soul.

The entire time I speak, he’s touching my leg. Stroking my knee. Squeezing my thigh over the thin fabric of my dress.

And every touch pushes me into a deeper state of arousal. I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.

I’m unsure of the role I’m supposed to play. I’m here for a job, essentially asking to be a prostitute, but I’m also supposed to be new to this line of work, a na?ve girl from the wards. I glance toward the bar.

Shenise doesn’t look impressed by my performance. Damn it.

The young men at the next table scrape their chairs back. As they pass us, they nod toward Cross in a respectful gesture, one of them murmuring, “Captain Redden.”

“Redden?” I echo in surprise.

He nods. His lips twitch with humor.

“Are you related to the General?”

“I’m his son.”

Our eyes lock for a moment, and I feel his gaze like a physical touch.

With the hint of a smile, he brushes his hand over his ear and mutters, “Cease comm.”

He’s shut off our feed.

Which means we’re no longer transmitting to Command when he leans in to drawl in my ear.

“I was wrong before. You make a very good whore, Dove.”

I bristle. I wish I could punch him in the face. I stroke it instead. He tenses, just slightly, as I trace the line of his jaw, his stubble gliding beneath my fingertips. Then a lazy smile plays at the corners of his lips. The dimple appears, and I feel a sense of satisfaction that I’m the one who made it happen.

“The bartender says you’re a regular customer,” I tell him, quirking a brow. “I didn’t peg you as someone who pays for it.”

“For drinks?” He lifts his glass. “I can’t exactly waltz in and steal them.”

“You’ve never been upstairs?”

“No.” He seems amused. “And if I had?”

“Whatever gets you off.”

“I’m easy to please,” he says, his lips brushing against my earlobe.

For a moment, I lose myself in the intoxicating allure of the charade. That I want to be on his lap. That I’m here to entertain him.

The heat of his body sears through the fabric of my dress. His hands find their way to my waist, pulling me even closer. His nearness is unbearable.

Pulse racing, I bring my mouth to his ear and whisper, “How long do I have to sit on you?”

“For as long as I fucking tell you to,” he whispers back.

My jaw tightens. I force it to relax, pasting on a hesitant smile. A very sweet, proper Gilly smile. But the way he’s looking at me is not at all sweet or proper.

As his hand strokes my thigh, he fixes his gaze on my face, and I see a flicker of bewilderment there.

“What?”

“Your eyes…That color. It’s like…” He pauses, thinking. “Liquid gold,” he finishes. “With flecks of sunlight dancing in it.”

I can’t help but laugh. “I was trying to describe a glass of pure whiskey earlier and I came up with a similar description. I think the whiskey is more impressive.”

“No. It’s not.”

My breath hitches.

“You must have had all the boys in Z lining up to get with you, just so they could sit there and stare into those eyes.”

“Hardly. I used to get teased about them,” I confess.

“Bullshit. Why?”

“I guess in certain lighting inside the schoolhouse, they looked completely yellow. When I was twelve, this one kid, Oden, got it into his head that I was a witch.”

Cross smiles, and it’s a sight to behold. “A witch.”

“Uh-huh. We were in the middle of a mythology unit in class, learning all about witches and werewolves and supernatural creatures, and our teacher projected a picture of this terrifying woman with glowing yellow eyes, casting a spell on a defenseless man. Oden and his obnoxious little friends started shouting Witch! at me whenever I walked into class.” I grumble at the memory. “At first it really bothered me. I didn’t understand why they were being so mean about something I couldn’t control. But then”—I shrug—“my best friend Tana encouraged me to embrace it. She said witches were powerful, independent women who didn’t conform to society’s expectations. So the next time I came to school and he shouted Witch —”

“You beat the shit out of him.”

My mouth falls open. Laughter tickles my throat. “How did you know?”

His fingers skim a path along my jawline, leaving prickles of pleasure in their wake. “Because I think even at twelve years old, you were a force to be reckoned with, Dove.”

His fingertips graze my cheek with a featherlight touch. Each second stretches taut, the sexual awareness between us like a thread on the verge of snapping.

“Enough about me,” I blurt out. “Tell me about you, Captain. Do you like your father?”

The abrupt subject change startles him. “What kind of question is that?”

“Just curious. You never speak about him.”

“There’s not much to say.”

“That’s a no then.”

“I didn’t say that.” He leans forward to pick up his glass, and his body crowds me, his woodsy scent surrounding me.

I pause in thought. “I don’t think I would want the General as my father.”

“Why is that?”

“Too much pressure. He runs the Continent. A man like that must expect greatness from his children.”

Cross’s grip tightens over my thigh. I’m not sure if it’s a warning or a reflection of his feelings toward the General.

“What about the rest of your family?” I ask when he doesn’t respond. “Do you like your brothers?”

“Roe is a little shit.”

“Can’t disagree with that,” I say, and Cross gives a soft chuckle. “What about the other one? Trevor? Travis?”

“Travis. He’s…very driven.”

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“Of all the descriptors you could have used, you chose that one.” I shrug. “And your mother?”

“Let’s stop talking about trivial shit.”

Disappointment flutters through me. It’s rare for Cross to share any part of himself, and I want to know more.

Or maybe I don’t. It’s bad enough that I’m attracted to my enemy. Maybe it’s better if I don’t catch these glimpses into his humanity.

It’s hard to focus with these conflicting emotions warring inside me. I wouldn’t be having this problem if Hadley was supervising me. Then again, the idea of having to sit on Hadley’s lap makes me nauseous.

I prefer Cross’s lap.

A little too much.

Breaking eye contact, he touches his ear to reactivate the comm. Then, before I can blink, his hand slides beneath the hem of my dress and his mouth finds my neck.

I break out in shivers. It takes all my willpower not to moan out loud as his lips travel over the column of my throat. Kissing. Tasting.

“Fucking delicious,” he mutters. He kisses his way up to my neck, my ear, then says, “Now push me off you. Tell them you can’t do this, you’re not ready for this line of work, and leave.”

But I don’t want to. It feels so good here in his lap. He’s warm and hard and kissing my neck. I want to stay here forever, and I hate myself for it.

“Go to your drop zone and return to base.”

He cups my chin and turns my face toward his lips, millimeters from mine.

“Push me off.”

I slap his face away and scramble off his lap.

Anger sizzles in his eyes. “Get back here.”

“I’m sorry.” I snatch my bag and hurry to the bar where Shenise stands. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, anguished. “I can’t do that. I just can’t. I’m not…Maybe one day, but not…not tonight. I can’t.”

I don’t give her the opportunity to speak. I spin on my heel and leave the bar as ordered. My heels slap the pavement as I head toward the alley from which I came. The black car is still there, waiting.

I don’t even know what the purpose of this op was. If I did well or not. All I know is that my body is still burning from Cross’s touch.

As I slide into the back seat, I hear his voice in my earpiece.

“Dove. Report to my office for a debrief.”