Den of Mercenaries [Volume Two]

by London Miller

  Her voice broke a little at the end for effect, but a part of her did feel bad knowing this was a reality for Dorothy. That she had to play a part everyday of her life that she might not have wanted.

  “Fine. I’ll call you tomorrow before brunch … yes, okay. I love you. Good night.”

  Iris tucked the phone back into her clutch, turning and faking surprise at the sight of Dorothy still standing there. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize someone was in here.”

  Grabbing a cloth from the display in front of them, Iris dabbed at her eyes, dragging on the moment for as long as she could. Dorothy had to make the first move. If she didn’t, it would be suspicious of her to know about an affair that shouldn’t have been so obvious.

  Iris was almost afraid she wouldn’t get anything out of her as she turned for the door until her voice rang out.

  “Find something that makes you feel a bit better.”

  “Sorry?” Iris asked as she turned, playing up her surprise at being addressed.

  “It’ll make it more bearable. Believe me. I was as willful as you are when I first married my husband.” She shook her head as if she regretted that day the most in her life. “I yelled, I threatened, I threw things, but none of that mattered in the end. He’s to be your husband,” she mimicked in a high voice, her words only slurring the slightest bit. “You do what you have to do for this family. My mother told me the benefits would outweigh everything else.”

  Money in exchange for her silence.

  Jewels for forgiveness.

  Cars and houses and a wardrobe for her willful obedience.

  Iris couldn’t imagine the toll it must take to accept trinkets and bobbles in place of respect.

  “Why did you stay with him?” she asked, both because she wanted answers and because she was genuinely curious.

  “Powerful men don’t have to be good people,” she said with a sort of dead expression, as if those words had been repeated to her over and over again. “They just need to be powerful.”

  Which could only mean Spader was far more powerful than she thought because while he might have only popped up on her radar years ago after what happened to her father, he and Dorothy had been married for two decades.

  How much power could he have possessed back then?

  “There’s no chance he’ll stop?” Iris asked, wondering if the woman would actually stick around that long.

  But at the question, Dorothy seemed to get some life back into her. Now, she smiled. “He will,” she said. “Soon. In the meantime, I can’t possibly see what he wants in that little tart who’s been flirting with your fiancé all evening. But I guess it isn’t her mind they’re interested in. Remember that. I suspect if my Michael wanted to stop seeing her”—the first time she had ever actually said his name—“then I wouldn’t have needed to destroy his precious Monet painting.”

  The sound of a flushing toilet startled them both. Dorothy seemed to realize just how much she’d said during their talk and flushed, clearing her throat as she turned back to the mirror.

  The woman who stepped out wasn’t wearing a dress, rather a black pencil skirt and a top that doubled as lingerie beneath a camel-colored blazer. Her blond hair was styled into a pixie cut, and she was as dainty as her heels were tall.

  “Oh, Kava, I thought you were someone else,” Dorothy said as the other woman smiled apologetically and came over to the sink to wash her hands.

  “Sorry to frighten you,” the other woman said pleasantly while she finished drying her hands. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

  “I’ve told you you’re not working tonight,” Dorothy admonished. “Eat and drink and be happy. You deserve it after everything you’re doing for me.”

  Kava, if Iris had to guess, worked for Dorothy—an assistant of some sort.

  Funny that she hadn’t known the woman had an assistant before tonight.

  “I’m sorry, dear, what was your name?”

  Iris replied as both pair of eyes came back to her. “Iris.”

  “Lovely to meet you, Iris. I’m Dorothy, and this is my assistant, Kava. Let us walk you back to your table.”

  This was going better than she ever expected.

  As they entered the ballroom, Iris immediately searched for Synek in the sea of faces, finding him exactly where she had left him. Though now, it wasn’t just Canina he was speaking to.

  The governor was at her table.

  Before now, Iris had never thought it was possible for time to slow down, but every step she took seemed to take longer than the last. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears. Feel the tremor in her fingers.

  She was amazed she hadn’t alarmed the women walking to the left of her, considering how tight her body suddenly felt.

  They were still talking by the time Iris returned to her seat, though her gaze was firmly trained on the man she hated the most in the world. She couldn’t even hear what they were saying. She only saw the way the governor’s mouth moved as he spoke. The cheer in his face as he briefly rested a hand on Canina’s shoulder, his warning clear.

  At least, that was all she saw before Synek was suddenly there, and as he always did when he kissed her, he cupped her face, demanding her attention be solely on him before he kissed her. It was soft, languid.

  Comforting.

  “Take a breath,” he said as he pulled away, uncaring that all eyes were on them now.

  For a moment, all she could see was him—the concern on his face, the unmistakable knowledge that she had nothing to fear with him there.

  She was the most powerful person in the room, he’d said. And he made damn sure she knew it.

  “Mrs. Spader,” Canina spoke up in a sickly sweet voice as she got to her feet. “What a lovely dress you’re wearing. I think my mother has that exact color.”

  Iris smiled at Synek in thanks before swallowing back her anxiety and facing the reason they were there again.

  She had been momentarily forgotten as Dorothy hardly acknowledged Canina at all as she slipped a hand around her husband’s arm.

  “Dear, I was just telling my friend, Iris, about the brunch I’m hosting this weekend. I’m sure it won’t be a problem if she attends?”

  Iris did her best not to react to that news since she didn’t know what the woman was talking about. But judging from the way Canina turned her glare to Iris briefly, there was more here than she knew.

  And somehow, the governor was caught right in the middle.

  Spader’s attention shifted from Canina as he zeroed in on Iris. His expression was cool when he looked at Synek’s arm around her—it seemed he was no longer worried about Syn encroaching on his territory—but when he faced Iris, interest lit up his face.

  It was disgusting how he could stand there, blatantly eyeing another woman as if his wife wasn’t standing right beside him.

  “Of course,” he said. “I don’t see why not.”

  This was good.

  Not because the governor was sketchy and seemed to be far too interested in her, but this meant she would be able to get inside their home without drawing attention to herself.

  “I’d be delighted,” Iris said, directing her answer to Dorothy.

  “I suppose my invitation was lost in the mail?” Canina asked, making Iris wonder whether they ran in the same circles.

  There was no other reason for her to even ask that, considering who she was. Yet she did.

  And judging from the challenging expression on her face, Canina actually expected an answer as well.

  Dorothy lowered her voice so only they could hear. “It probably wound up in the trash where you belong.”

  Iris choked back a laugh, though it sounded more like she was gasping in surprise. Synek managed to keep a straight face.

  Furious, Canina turned to the governor. “Are you going to let her talk to me like this?”

  Unlike his wife, she wasn’t able to keep her voice as low and controlled.

  Now, the governor lost whatever goo
d humor he’d possessed moments prior.

  Iris wasn’t sure if he could feel the way people were perking up, their gazes shifting to them, but whatever it was, she finally got a peek at the man beneath the mask.

  Before he could utter a response, Canina turned on her heel, grabbing her purse from the table—not caring that she knocked over a glass on the table and brought more attention to them—and left the room without looking back.

  Canina’s outburst was loud enough to draw the room’s attention to them.

  Dorothy looked smug as she turned and walked away, Kava trailing behind her. The governor’s face mottled with red before he cleared his throat, gave them a nod, and followed her.

  Iris was doing everything in her power not to smile.

  Too easy.

  They were making it too easy.

  Chapter 28

  It only took leaving the mansion and being alone with Synek in the dark confines of the R8 to turn her night around.

  He was quiet, had been ever since he’d slid behind the wheel, but his silence drew her to him even more. It was the way his hand had slipped lower on her waist as they left—how she could feel his entire energy change once they drove off.

  Work was done for the night; that much she could guess in the relaxed lines of his body as he drove with one hand on the wheel and the other loosely wrapped around the gearshift.

  He’d abandoned his suit jacket closer to the end of the night and rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows. His dark hair was messy again, the strands as unruly as the man who wore them, and she could just see the cigarette newly tucked behind his ear.

  Maybe she was impressed by how easily he had controlled the room when they were at the fundraiser, or maybe it was because he made a right sexy sight as he lazily drove them back to the brownstone, but whatever reason, her complete focus was on him.

  Iris toed her heels off as she unsnapped her seat belt and turned in her seat. She could have smiled with how quickly his attention diverted to her, though he hadn’t taken his eyes off the road. She could see it in the way his hand tightened around the steering wheel and the slight shift that had him turning in her direction.

  But it wasn’t until she was stretching her leg across their seats that he finally reacted—as if he’d been waiting out some internal battle until he couldn’t help himself anymore.

  He lifted one hand to circle his fingers around her ankle and continued up, pushing the skirt of her dress back until her lower half was nearly exposed.

  It was ridiculous how easily he made her heart trip over itself when the only thing he’d done was shift his fingers from her knee to her inner thigh, lightly tracing a circle over her flesh.

  She was no longer thinking about the governor or the night they’d spent sizing up their opponent. The only thing Iris was thinking about was Synek and everything she wanted to do with him.

  “Do you have to go in?” she asked, wondering if he would have to report back to the Kingmaker or someone about what had happened tonight.

  She knew this job with the governor was time sensitive.

  “Even if I did,” he said, gaze drifting to her as he stopped at a red light, “nothing would make me walk away from you right now.”

  Synek just had a way with words.

  And now that she could see his eyes, she could see the way his pupils dilated, leaving nothing but darkness. A darkness that called to her own and made her crave bad things with him.

  He tapped the inside of her thigh, urging her to spread her legs wider for him, allowing him an unobstructed view of the juncture of her thighs and everything her dress hid. His fingers drifted higher again until his fingers swept over the lace she wore, the sound he made a mixture of pleasure and annoyance.

  “These are in my way,” he whispered.

  A statement as much as an unspoken demand for her to take the panties off.

  Iris only hesitated a moment before lifting her hips and dragging the lace down her legs. When they got too low for her to reach, he tugged them off the rest of the way and tucked them away in his pocket.

  Iris waited for that inevitable moment when he would touch her—when he would find her wet and aching for him—but he didn’t. Instead, a lazy smile curled his lips as he sped down the street.

  “Touch yourself,” he said, his tone brokering no argument.

  Iris had never considered herself shy, and she shouldn’t now, considering they were already in the darkened interior of his car where no one could see them.

  Yet even as she started to do what she was told, her cheeks flushed red and her heart rate skyrocketed.

  He was able to watch as she slid her hand down the flat, toned expanse of her abdomen before she went lower.

  What he asked her to do wasn’t foreign to her, but she had never had an audience before, and Synek wasn’t one to shy away. He wasn’t shy about staring, nor did he make it a secret what he wanted to do with her as soon as he got the chance.

  And that thought was as thrilling as it was terrifying.

  Tentatively, she reached down, drawing in a breath before she rubbed a slow, tight circle over her clit.

  She felt them roll to a stop and figured they were at another red light, but just as she was sure his gaze was on her, tracking over every exposed inch of her, she didn’t open her eyes.

  She wanted to stay grounded in this, this endless moment that stretched between them.

  The high—she’d begun to crave it. Crave him.

  She didn’t know who was more of the slave to what she was doing—her because she was feeling it, experiencing it, or him because he looked as if her masturbating right beside him was a special kind of torture he couldn’t get enough of.

  The way his fingers tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles blanched, or how he shifted restlessly in the driver’s seat, and she could make out every thick, hard inch of his cock through his trousers.

  “Stop,” he said, and her fingers obeyed before her brain could even process what he had said.

  The crest that had been right there dissipated, the ache lingering. Her need still great, but she knew as soon as she opened her eyes and looked at him why he hadn’t let her come.

  The first one was always his.

  The sound of the tires skidding to a quick stop alerted her to the fact they were finally home.

  “Inside,” he said and snapped off his seat belt, seeming unable to formulate more than a one-word response.

  Iris walked, heels in hand, up the stairs and got the door open before Synek even made it around the car.

  She could feel his eyes tracking her across the room before she ever turned to face him, but the visual was far better than her imagination. He yanked at the knot in his tie until the fabric loosened.

  Maybe it was the champagne she’d downed at the fundraiser, or what had happened in the car after, or both, but whatever it was made her heart feel as if it was seconds from beating right out of her chest, and the ache he’d sparked earlier was flaring hotter.

  It was one thing to see Synek in a suit—all dark vibes and tattoos—but it was something else entirely to watch him come out of one.

  He took his time, watching her watch him, removing his weapons next, and then finally his shirt.

  When he got to that last knife strapped to his forearm—his favorite knife, he’d said—he didn’t drop it with the others.

  Instead, he walked toward her, holding it loosely in one hand.

  Any rational person would have been rightfully afraid if Synek was approaching them with a knife in his hand, but too much excitement filled Iris for her to feel anything else.

  She didn’t realize she had been backing away until her back hit the cool panes of the glass doors, and Synek was suddenly there. So close that she could smell the intoxicating scent of him surrounding her.

  He turned the blade around in his hand, ever careful, never nicking himself even once, and she knew how sharp that knife was. But he knew how to handle them
with expert precision, and he wanted her to know that.

  His smile was a little dark, lips hiked up on one side as his gaze drifted over her face. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  No hesitation tonight.

  No further thought.

  She trusted him more than she had ever trusted another person in her life.

  Her answer seemed to please him, but he didn’t respond right away. His intentions were unclear for as long as it took for him to reach out and touch her, her head falling back against the glass as he traced the pad of his thumb down the hollow of her throat and lower still, tracing a line ...

  It only took her a moment longer to realize why he still held his knife and why he’d asked if she trusted him.

  And as he saw the moment she realized his intentions, he smiled wider. “Breathe,” he said before he rested the gleaming tip of his knife against the ties on the front of her dress.

  It didn’t matter that she knew he was good with a knife or that she had just watched him use it. She still couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath, but to keep her nerves, she whispered, “You bought it.”

  He smirked.

  Faster than she could process, he slipped the blade between the ties and jerked his arm back, the knife cutting seamlessly through the fabric and splitting it down the middle.

  He tossed the knife away without another thought before his mouth was on hers, kissing the breath out of her. She could feel his need in every stroke of his tongue, the way his fingers dug into her hair before making a fist—the way she could feel his hard length through his trousers.

  It all sparked a blissful agony in the pit of her stomach, spiraling outward until the only thing she wanted—the only thing she could even think about—was undressing him.

  She wanted to feel the smoothness of his skin. Trace the scars that made him distinct from anyone she had ever been with.

  One of his arms skimmed down to hook around her waist, lifting her with ridiculous ease until her legs wrapped around his waist. Her back hit the glass with enough force to tell her he was losing control, but she liked it all the more for it.