Too bad the con itself was one she’d made up on the fly—a ghost for Trevor to chase while she did what she had to. Now that she’d reached this point, it was make it up as she went along in order to keep Trevor safe and get to the artwork.
“Let’s start fresh, shall we?” She stuck out her hand. “Hello, Mr. Canalis, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Marissa Joens and, like I mentioned, I’m pretty sure you want me here. For more reasons than you imagined.”
His brows knit together, but his smirk shifted into a curious smile as he wrapped her fingers in his. “The pleasure’s mine. But it does beg the question of what you’re doing here? And why the ruse?”
“That’s easy.” Marissa uncrossed her legs, sliding one foot along his thigh. Hooking his knee with her toes, she turned his chair until they faced each other. She looked down on him and felt bolder, more certain. This was right. This was who she needed to be, not some programmed automaton. “The night my family was caught by the police, I’d wanted to steal Certain Laughter; my parents vetoed me. They paid the heavier price for the decision, but I was still robbed of my teen years.”
“And now that you confessed to attempting to steal my property once, you expect me to hand it over out of the goodness of my heart?” He raised a brow at her foot on his thigh, but she didn’t move.
Instead, she leaned forward, propping an elbow on her knee and her chin in her hand. Their faces were only inches apart, and she tried not to think about the last time she’d been this close to a man.
She couldn’t daydream about Trevor.
With Canalis, she needed all her wits about her. “No, silly man. I just want to hold it in my hands for a minute—banish the ghost from all those years ago.” She grinned and tweaked his nose. “And then I thought you might want to offer me a job.”
“A con artist who was caught the first day I met her?” He pushed her hand away.
But she wasn’t about to be so easily dismissed. Her fingers found his chin and turned him back toward her. “A con artist who fully planned to be caught by you. Let’s not pretend this is anything else. I know what it’s like to spend time behind bars. It’s not an experience I care to repeat but, after so many years spent trying to be ‘normal,’ I also know what I’m good at. Working for you, I get the best of everything: doing the job on a grander scale for one of the most powerful men in the country…and the protection that comes with it.”
He took her hand and stood…putting them on more equal ground. “And where does your big, bad fiancé fit into this plan? Does he come as part of the package?”
She snorted, hating herself for the lie she was about to tell. “Please. He was nothing more than a pretty body to get me in the door for this whole wedding thing. In the ways of the world, he’s dumb as a rock and not as tough as he looks. It’s kind of sad. Considering my bogus name, we won’t even really be married come Saturday night. Not so much as a paper trail to have to cover since Mari Jones doesn’t exist.” She sucked in a quick breath and straightened as if the thought had just occurred to her. “Don’t tell me I’m not appealing enough on my own.”
His gaze roved over her until she wanted to shudder from revulsion. But she played on his blatantly obvious attraction and gave him a wicked smile when he finally met her eyes. “You’re actually more appealing without him. And yes, I think we might be able to find a place for you in the organization. However, I’m going to need you to pass a test—you have to keep Evangeline fooled until after the wedding. Then you get to hold your precious painting. I’ll let you be the one to give it to Franco.”
Damn. She really wanted out of here before the wedding. If he didn’t have Certain Laughter under lock and key before, he would now. Arguing would only ensure she never got close to it, though. “Sounds perfect.” She hopped off the desk and took his hand, brushing a kiss over his ring. “I look forward to doing business with you, Don Canalis.”
Shoes in hand, she managed to get out the door, through the hall, and halfway down the stairs before she sagged against the wall, her entire body shaking. She’d scoped the room while she’d been sitting there, waiting for him to get through the computer show. Two exits: a door and a seventh story window. She lost count of visible weapons at six.
And she had no doubt he would have been able to kill her before she ever laid a hand on one of them.
“So who are you today?” Trevor growled to Marissa as they wandered into the game room.
“Same person I’ve been since you woke me from my slumber.” She pecked his cheek. “That means I’m either Sleeping Beauty or Fiona.”
“Snow White was under a magical sleeping spell, too.” His best friend’s little girls had made sure he was well versed in all the fictional princesses. But he had a hard time believing Marissa fit any princess mold—especially with how different she’d been since taking off on her Valjean quest.
“Please. The only thing snow white about me is that lace nightie.”
He choked on a laugh, but he still wanted to know what the damn con was. He hadn’t been able to find anything about it, so he tried to fall back on his knowledge of Les Miserables. He highly doubted the plan had anything to do with stealing bread, and Marissa was already pretending to be someone else. The lack of knowledge was driving him insane, but not nearly so much as her caginess.
He was sick and tired of trust me falling from her lips like it was supposed to be some sort of balm. All it did was drive home the fact there were dozens of reasons not to trust her.
“Quit staring at me like that.” She elbowed him gently, batting her eyelashes when he grunted. “You look like you want to beat me senseless, not like you’re in love with me.”
“From my limited experience, those two things go hand-in-hand.” Shit. Had he just said he was in love with her? Had she noticed? Because that was the last place he planned on going.
This stunt of hers only proved his initial instincts were probably the right ones—beautiful but dangerous. Once this mission was over, he planned to stay as far from Marissa Joens as possible.
Oblivious to the turmoil she’d caused, Marissa simply popped up on her toes and kissed him, lingering longer than strictly necessary. Long enough to make him second-guess himself—again—and wish that this mission were over for totally different reasons than being free from her and Canalis. Too bad her voice took on a sarcastic edge when she followed the kiss up with, “You say the sweetest things sometimes.”
No. She hadn’t missed it.
She didn’t care. Why did that somehow make it worse?
“Okay, you two, I know you have a room…” Evangeline teased as she and Frankie walked in. His frown said he was a lot less happy to be there than she was. Daddy dearest had definitely put a damper on his plans…and played right into Evangeline’s. Her blue-green eyes shone as she swept her long, blond hair back. “Glad you skipped the room to come here, though. Based on that kiss, this should be fun.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Marissa beamed.
“Seems like you don’t miss much.” Frankie narrowed his eyes at Marissa. Whatever was going on between the Canalis men, Marissa didn’t fit into Frankie’s plans. That could be good or bad. The whole angry-young-man bit was too ephemeral to define. For all they knew, Frankie simply didn’t like the idea of a younger woman in his dad’s suite.
For that matter, Trevor didn’t like it much, either. The last thing he wanted was Marissa that close to Leo Canalis. Nor was he overly fond of this party they had going on. If Marissa was playing Canalis senior, they didn’t have to work the Evangeline angle anymore.
Every moment they were with the others was another risk of slip up. Another chance they could be discovered. Marissa insisted, though, pointing out that they’d be more suspicious if they hid all the time—especially if they weren’t audibly “boinking like bunnies.”
When he’d tried to argue, she shut him up with another of her deadly kisses and told him not to worry so much because it was all part of her plan. The
other part being her alone time with Leo Canalis. It had taken her over half an hour to get back from his suite when she first went to meet with him. Enough time to do all sorts of things. Enough time for her to spill all of TRAIT’s secrets if she wanted to.
He hated Marissa’s plan, mainly because he didn’t know what it was.
But what he hated most of all was part of him that itched to touch her again, the part that burned for her kiss…that part of him wanted to trust her. But she was making it impossible.
The worst of it was he couldn’t threaten her with a formal report since they’d already screwed the mission so many times, and their boss would insist on knowing how Trevor had let it get this far. Instead, he brooded and argued and cajoled…and got nothing for his trouble. If he weren’t falling for her, he’d have been looking to get Marissa ousted from TRAIT.
This wasn’t how partners were meant to work.
They weren’t supposed to play games, and that’s what she’d been doing…what they were going to spend the rest of the damn night doing. Literally.
The game room consisted of half a dozen tables and chairs for up to six people each along with a few chessboards on smaller tables against the walls. At the far side, some low couches sat in front of a stage. None of the other couples had arrived yet. “And where’s everyone else?”
Evangeline huffed out a sigh. “Sandy overindulged in the wine at dinner and is either passed out or puking. Or both. Lana went to get a manicure since she was worried she wouldn’t have time tomorrow with the rehearsal and all. Nick and Rebecca are screwing each other’s brains out—their words, not mine. And everyone else… Basically, everyone is being a big ball of no fun. Well, Nick and Rebecca might be the exception, but their fun doesn’t include the rest of the group. So it’s just us.”
Just them. This could end badly. At least Frankie’s dad wasn’t joining in, so it likely wouldn’t end bloody.
“So, what’s our method of destruction tonight?” Marissa waved toward the tables, her eyes resting longest on the chessboards. Chess? She was full of surprises. No. She’d probably learned to play at her parents’ knees. Moves and countermoves and always having a damned plan that was shared with no one.
Frankie pulled a bottle of Grey Goose from the bag in his hand. “Vodka to start.”
Evangeline’s eyes glittered. “And with only the four of us, a drunken game of truth or dare sounds like a lot of fun.”
Shit. She was digging. The only question was what was she digging for?
Too late to back out. Trevor leaned over as they walked toward the couches and whispered in Marissa’s ear, “As long as we stick to dare, we should be safe.”
“Good idea. You go for dare.”
“What about you?”
“Safe was never part of my plan.”
Damn her plan to hell and back. He was still fuming when they settled onto cushions across from the other couple.
Frankie poured shots into glasses from the hotel’s bar and raised his in a toast. “To surviving tonight with our relationships still intact.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Trevor announced with a pointed glance toward Marissa.
“Silly boys,” she said, as she lifted her vodka to her lips, “we’re getting married. And what are a few dirty, little secrets between friends?”
“You say that now…” If she didn’t cool it, she was going to blow the whole mission.
Unless that was her intention.
Trevor resisted the urge to haul her bodily back to their room. Not his style, but Marissa seemed to like pushing him past all his carefully plotted boundaries. And now he couldn’t manage to safely think about getting her out of a dangerous situation without it having sexual connotations.
“Pfft.” Marissa ignored his warnings the same way she’d ignored all his questions since she left the room yesterday with her Valjean announcement. What did you do? Why were you with Canalis so long? Did you find out where the painting is? Only the last one got a straight answer—we’ll have it by the end of the week.
As much as he wanted Canalis punished for his crimes and hoped this mission would lead to that, he was going to strangle Marissa if she kept the evasion up. And now she was smirking at him like she didn’t give a rat’s ass. “Let’s get this party started. Who’s first?”
The questions and dares started flying, and so did the liquor. Soon, Trevor realized this was the perfect opportunity for him to get some answers. Sure, Marissa could lie, but he’d started to recognize her tells over the last few years of working together.
It was probably why she wasn’t answering him at all about her plan. With their “friends” already several drinks under, as he’d said before, they’d be unlikely to ponder his stupid questions.
He waited for the next round of the game—and another round of shots—before it came back to him. “Marissa.”
“Ooooo he does like me!” She twisted on the couch to glance up at him. “For you, dear, truth, always. Unless you ask about that one night in college. Then I reserve the right to lie.”
That right there was a lie since she hadn’t gone to an actual college. Josh had let her earn her degree online on TRAIT’s dime. “Top five things that come to mind when I say the name Jean Valjean.”
Evangeline gaped. “That’s either the lamest question ever, or you have a hard-on for Hugh Jackman. Please say it’s the latter.”
Laughter echoed through the room. Marissa was obviously comfortable in whatever role she was playing all of a sudden, because he could barely detect a hint of falsehood. “Trevor has this obsession with the classics. I promised I’d read some of them, but he should know better than to choose one that not only has Sparknotes but multiple movies to fall back on.” She turned to him, a glint of something hard in her eyes—green ice, or a razor sharp piece of jade. “Five things, right? One: two-four-six-oh-one. Two: a loaf of bread. Three: strength. Four: ‘Bring Him Home.’ Five?” She paused for a long time, staring at Trevor, maybe searching for whether or not he was ready to know. “Sucker.”
She nodded like that was the most logical answer in the world.
He wanted to ask what she meant, but he knew she’d weave some line out of thin air, likely about being strapped with an ungrateful kid for the last years of his life because Valjean hadn’t micro-managed one of his businesses.
But Trevor knew the truth. She wasn’t calling the character a sucker. That answer was directed at him. She wouldn’t fall for any of his questions, and clearly she held her liquor better than most people.
With an empty bottle between the four of them, they downed the last of the vodka. Evangeline raised bloodshot eyes and pointed a wavering finger at Marissa. “You. Truth or Dare?”
“I’ve done too much truth tonight.” She had, too. Nearly every question from Evangeline and a few from Frankie and himself. “I’m ready to do something naughty, so make it a good one. Dare.”
Evangeline’s eyes drifted shut as she grinned, and Trevor thought they’d get off without this one last thing. But they popped open a second later. “I fully expect to get laid after we leave.” Probably not likely given her state, but Trevor wasn’t going to point that out. “I dare you to give your man a lap dance that will get all four of us ready to go back and finish the evening on a high note.”
Marissa ran her finger along the inside of her shot glass and sucked the digit into her mouth, closing her eyes as she savored the last of the vodka. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”
As she stood, Evangeline fumbled with her phone, finally pulling up music. It was some angry female rock band he’d never heard before. Not exactly seductive music…until Marissa’s hips started swaying to the beat, and she inched her skirt higher and higher on her thighs as she turned, freeing her movements. Soon, it was so high it barely covered her panties, and he was tempted to tug it down. The other couple didn’t need to see this. It was for him…wasn’t it?
She slammed her hands on the back of the couch to either side o
f his head, her breasts jutting right in front of his face. So close he could lift his head and…
“Uh, uh, uh,” Marissa said, winking. “Lap dances have rules. I touch you. You don’t—” She bent at the knees then slithered up the length of his body, grinding her hips against his “—Get to lay a finger on me unless I say so.”
In under a minute, he forgot all about Frankie and Evangeline. All he could think about was his hands on Marissa, roving over her as she did this. She turned, straddling him backward, and grabbed his hands, placing them right under her breasts.
So close but not close enough.
Then, she shifted and rubbed her ass against his cock, and all thought vanished. He closed his eyes and lost himself in her machinations.
Too soon and far too long after, she collapsed on his lap. The dual rounds of applause from the other couch had her breaking into laughter as she struggled to right her skirt.
Frankie tugged Evangeline into his arms. His voice was gruff as he said, “You got your game and your show. Can I have you now?”
“Good night, you two.” Grinning, she pulled him into the hall.
As soon as they were out of sight, Trevor ushered Marissa to the door.
“What’s the hurry, big guy? World ending tonight?”
They were almost to their suite, so he didn’t bother responding until his key slid home. Then he leaned in close so only she could hear. “No. In fact, we’re officially off-duty until morning.” Inside, he locked the door behind him and turned to her. Screw being careful. Everyone was asleep anyway. “And now I want a repeat of that dance with fewer rules and fewer clothes.”
In an instant, she had his pants undone, her hand inside, rubbing his dick in long, tight strokes. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Eight
Going to the Chapel
Marissa spent the day reliving the previous night and counting the minutes until this mess was over and done with. So many times when Trevor touched her, it felt like part of the act. But then, when they were alone…
Conning for Keeps: A Novella Page 9
