Page 16 of Sly Like a Fox (Romance Expected Dating Service #3)

“Got it, and you work in technology consulting while I’m transitioning from administrative work to event planning.”

“Perfect. Stay close to me, but not possessively close. We’re comfortable together but still in the stage where everything feels new and exciting.”

She links her arm through mine as we approach our table, and the gesture seems so natural that I almost forget it’s performance. “Like this?”

“Exactly like that.”

The evening unfolds better than I could have hoped.

Jenna charms our tablemates with stories about learning event planning through volunteer work while I discuss technology trends that sound impressive without revealing anything sensitive.

She laughs at my jokes with apparent genuine delight, touches my hand when making points in conversation, and generally plays the role of devoted fiancée so convincingly, I start believing it myself.

During the silent auction portion of the evening, she demonstrates her growing sophistication by bidding strategically on items that enhance our image, including a wine tasting experience for two, a weekend at a luxury spa, and art pieces revealing cultural refinement without excessive wealth.

“You’re getting good at this,” I murmur as she outbids another couple for a photography session with one of the city’s most sought-after portrait artists.

“I’m a fast learner.” Her smile carries both satisfaction and something warmer. “Besides, this is actually fun when the stakes aren’t survival.”

The comment reminds me how different this must be from her previous cons.

Instead of desperately trying to secure her next meal or month’s rent, she’s playing a role that comes with built-in security and support.

The realization makes me want to ensure she never has to go back to that kind of desperation.

We gather useful intelligence during casual conversations.

Lisa Valdez mentions her firm is competing for the contract to design Anklor’s new office building.

Judge Morrison lets slip she’s attending Anklor’s charity gala next month, and Dr. Chase discusses the medical research foundation that Anklor supposedly supports, though her tone suggests skepticism about his true motivations.

By the end of the evening, we’ve established our credibility as a legitimate power couple and gathered actionable information about our target’s upcoming activities. More importantly, we’ve proven our partnership can work in high-pressure social situations.

“That was a complete success,” Jenna says as we walk to the parking garage. “Did you see how Judge Morrison reacted when I mentioned your work with database security? She practically invited us to her dinner party next weekend.”

“I noticed. You were brilliant in there.”

The compliment makes her glow with pleasure, and I enjoy seeing her succeed. Not just because it advances our mission but because she deserves to feel confident and appreciated for her considerable skills.

Back at my apartment, we review the evening’s intelligence over wine and takeout from her favorite Thai restaurant. Jenna has traded her elegant cocktail dress for comfortable clothes, but she’s still wearing the necklace and earrings I bought for her cover wardrobe.

“We should practice our engagement story,” she says, checking items off our preparation list. “People will expect details if we’re going to maintain this cover long term.”

“Good point. How did I propose?”

She considers the question with serious attention. “Somewhere meaningful but not overly romantic. We don’t want to seem like we’re trying too hard to be the perfect couple.”

“The art gallery where we had our third date? I could have arranged a private viewing and proposed in front of your favorite piece.”

“That’s good. Personal but not publicly dramatic.” She makes a note on her tablet. “What kind of ring?”

I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the small velvet box I’ve been carrying since this morning. “This kind.”

Her eyes widen as I open the box to reveal a platinum band with a classic round diamond, elegant but not ostentatious. It’s the ring Fenton Nielsen would choose for a woman he truly loved.

“Fenton, this is...” She trails off, staring at the ring with an expression I can’t quite read.

“It’s part of our cover,” I say quickly, though the words feel inadequate. “We need it to be convincing, and people will expect to see an actual ring if we’re claiming to be engaged.”

“Of course. For the cover.” She looks briefly troubled before her expression morphs back to a small smile.

I lift the ring from the box, noting how my hands are slightly unsteady. “May I?”

She extends her left hand, and I slide the ring onto her finger. It fits perfectly, which shouldn’t surprise me since I had it sized based on the jewelry she already wears, but seeing it there, catching the light, makes something tighten in my chest.

“How does it look?” she asks, holding her hand up to examine the ring.

“Perfect. Completely convincing.”

We’re sitting close together on my couch, her hand still extended between us, and the intimacy of the moment feels both planned and spontaneous. She’s looking at the ring, but I’m looking at her face and noting the way her expression softens when she thinks I’m not watching.

“We should probably practice the proposal story,” she says, though her voice is quieter than before.

“Probably.”

Neither of us moves to create more space. Instead, she shifts slightly closer until I can smell her perfume mixed with the subtle scent that’s uniquely hers.

“For authenticity,” she murmurs, though I’m not sure what she’s referring to.

“For the cover,” I agree, though my voice sounds rough.

She looks up at me, and suddenly, the space between us seems charged with possibilities that go far beyond professional necessity. Her lips part slightly, and I lean toward her without conscious decision.

The kiss starts as practice, a technical exercise in maintaining our cover story, but within seconds, it becomes something much more intense and real.

Her free hand tangles in my hair, pulling me closer, and I respond by deepening the kiss with an urgency that has nothing to do with operational requirements.

We finally break apart, breathing hard and staring at each other with new awareness. The engagement ring on her finger is a visible reminder of the elaborate deception we’re constructing, but the way she’s looking at me feels entirely genuine.

“That was...” she starts but then stops, seeming uncertain how to finish the sentence.

“Convincing,” I say, though the word feels inadequate for what just happened.

“Very convincing.”

We should probably discuss what this means for our partnership and establish boundaries between personal attraction and professional necessity. Instead, I’m studying her face, noting the way her pupils are dilated and her lips are slightly swollen from our kiss.

Somewhere in the process of planning this elaborate con, I’ve begun to develop genuine feelings for my partner.

The revelation worries me because it threatens to compromise my focus on the mission that has consumed my life for three years.

Emotional involvement creates vulnerabilities, and vulnerabilities lead to mistakes that could get us both killed.

Yet looking at Jenna wearing my ring and sitting close enough to touch, I can’t bring myself to step back from the woman who’s become so much more than just an accomplice. “We should probably get some sleep,” I say, though neither of us makes any move to end the evening.

“Probably,” she says, her voice carrying the same reluctance I’m feeling.

The engagement ring glints between us like a promise, and my thoughts wander as I consider what would happen if we made this real.