Page 3 of Sweet Deception (Irish Kings #4)

Chapter Three

Darren Kelly’s eyes dance over my face, the intensity of his attention so potent that approaching him feels like running through five feet of water.

I ignore that fear, though, and approach him with carefully orchestrated distress, my movements deliberately less controlled than usual. I’m going for damsel in distress. Swallowing back the distaste I have for this character, I guide my lips into an uncertain smile.

“Mind if I hide here for a moment?” My voice hitches just enough to be convincing as I glance nervously over my shoulder at an imaginary pursuer.

All these macho alpha assholes have that possessive, protective instinct when it comes to women, right?

I’ll be whatever kind of woman required to get him to sit there with his phone on the table and talk to me for a minute.

The Bluetooth cloning program runs silently on my own cell. It’s tucked into the pocket hidden in my flared skirt, ready to connect the moment I’m within range. I only need sixty seconds of proximity.

I open my mouth to give more dialogue to this soap opera character I’m playing, but when Darren’s bright blue eyes slide back to mine, I’m struck dumb.

With their intense glow, they might as well be laser beams.

His eyes rake over my body from head to toe, then slowly crawl back up.

Well, that was the most visceral once-over of my life.

He just fondled me without even using his hands.

Darren unfolds himself from his chair, tension coiled tight in his deceptively muscular frame. The lighter in the palm of his hand vanishes into his pocket along with his phone as his lips curve into something too sharp to be a smile.

“Dance with me.” No hello. No introduction. Not even a question.

His low, controlled, commanding voice carries an edge that spikes my pulse.

“What?” I whisper, eyes wide.

Shit. He caught me off guard.

“You will dance with me.” His head tilts to the side, slowly and deliberately. “That’s why you came over here, isn’t it?”

He dares me with his words, and because I don’t want to reveal my true intentions, I change tactics and offer an impish grin. “Guilty.”

Another fake smile tugs at the corners of his mouth before his impossibly long fingers come to rest beneath my elbow, half guiding, half yanking me toward the dance floor.

My heart sprints for the hills.

Talk to a mafioso for sixty seconds? Sure.

Dance with one? For an entire song? Touching him while he touches me? I gulp and hope to God Darren doesn’t notice.

The second we step onto the dance floor, I realize my mistake.

I’m supposed to be the one in control here.

I targeted Darren believing he was the weak link. Just a disinterested enforcer playing with fire. Probably not too bright.

Someone I could manipulate.

But instead…

I hold my core tight to keep from flinching as his hands slide around my waist and draw me into his embrace. His touch comes across as respectful but possessive.

I’m definitely not expecting his body heat to radiate right through his skin and clothes, straight through my dress, and into me.

Well, shit.

So much for my focus…

An exciting and dangerous warmth fills me as his discerning, entrancing eyes bore into mine.

Nika! I scold myself as my friends’ faces flash behind my eyes. Right. Remember the mission.

Maya, my best friend, is counting on me, and this is my first shot at getting a substantial lead on Lucy’s whereabouts.

The clock’s ticking on cloning Darren’s phone. I started the mental countdown, but I’m finding it difficult to concentrate on anything except the energy he emits.

His proximity, his body heat, his spicy scent, his spellbinding gaze…the way other couples unconsciously shift to give us space. Like we’re the guests of honor tonight and not two strangers rotating in small hypnotic circles.

The effect this man has on me…it’s not natural or normal. And if I’m not careful, I know he’ll use that against me in a heartbeat.

Even if he has no idea who I am or what I’m capable of.

By day, I’m an IT whiz. By night, I help women wipe their digital footprint, reinvent themselves after domestic violence has ripped their lives apart, and start over someplace new.

With this particular job, though, things are a bit more hazardous.

And by a bit , I mean a lot .

The abusive husbands I usually encounter can’t compare to a small army of vicious, violent men with guns, criminal ties, and ways of getting everything they want.

And while I’ve helped extricate a few women in the mafia world from perilous situations, my work has never required me to actually rub elbows with those types of men before.

But I can’t let that fact intimidate me.

Lives are at stake, Nika. Don’t forget that.

My head’s spinning faster than a top.

This is terrible. He’s exactly the kind of man I try to avoid in real life. Not because he’s a dangerous mobster in an expensive suit, but because something about him frays the careful control I’ve worked my whole life to cultivate.

He’s trouble. I need to flee from him as soon as humanly possible.

Hurry up , I plead to my program in silence.

The vibration from my phone that’s meant to signal the cloning completion never comes.

A horrible twinge of understanding scrambles my already frantic mind.

His phone. It’s off. When did he turn it off?

No, no, no, no, no.

If his phone’s off, I’ll…I’ll just have to steal it. But how? What are my options here? Pick his pocket?

When the song ends, Darren stops dancing. Another starts up, faster paced. He leans into me. “Another.”

I give a little nod as he pulls me tighter against him and swings us into another rotation. Bozhe moy , the way my stomach flips when he does that.

My hands slide down his muscled shoulders to his sculpted biceps. If I’m going to pick his pockets, I’ll need to slip my arms under his, a maneuver that involves pressing my head to his chest. Ignoring the spark that touching him ignites in my body, I glide my fingers toward his titanium chest.

But that’s the wrong move. As soon as I place my hands on his pecs, he squeezes me tighter, his heavy hands slipping from my waist and up my back as he tugs me closer.

His sure grip is unyielding, as though he intends to keep me exactly where he wants me. Why does that thought both thrill and terrify me?

The small circles his thumb draws on my back cause me to shiver with more than fear. What an awful time for lust to arrive.

Held snug to his chest, my eyes slip closed a second, as if I’m resting in the safety of his embrace. The moment the absurdity of this action registers, they snap back open. What the hell is wrong with me?

Thankfully, the song concludes, and I come back to myself.

Head finally clear, I straighten up out of this powerfully destabilizing man’s embrace. It’s obvious that I won’t get what I’m after, and spending another second with him would be as risky as it would be ineffective.

I need to find another target.

“Thank you for the lovely dance.” Why’s my voice all breathy and hoarse?

“Likewise.” Darren’s grip loosens just enough to let me go.

In my haste to step away, my trick ankle buckles. The weakness catches me off guard and pitches me backward.

I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for impact, only for two ironlike hands to rescue me at the last second.

Blinking hard, I find myself pulled against his body. One of his arms bands around my waist while his other hand cradles my elbow.

The proximity spikes my adrenaline. Our current position leaves me completely at his mercy.

“Careful.” Darren’s breath tickles my ear, and I can’t tell if his words are a warning about my physical stability or something else entirely.

Either way, I’ve never felt less steady in my life.

Or less sure of myself.

I can do twenty-five fouetté turns perfectly, but one dance with Darren Kelly and I’m completely knocked off balance.

My… reaction …clouds my perspective, and that’s a very bad thing.

If I don’t get away from this deadly, dazzling man, he’s going to kill me, one way or another. I just know it.