by Liz Maverick
Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Michael looking for her over the crowd. Cat was tailing the mouse already. Dammit.
Moving faster now, Vienna slipped into a parallel hallway and started pushing more blatantly through the crowd. And as the door loomed closer and the air turned colder, tears sparked her eyes.
She hadn’t been free, truly free, in over a year.
The doorman saw her coming, his expression registering her distress. He swung open the door and she could smell the strange, glorious scent of wet pavement as a slight drizzle fell out of the sky.
Vienna’s stiletto heel smashed down hard on the metal runner that ran like a seam across the threshold. Then a hand wrapped around her upper arm and whiplashed her around so hard she almost fell over.
“Training camp isn’t over, Vienna,” Michael said, his voice cold and flat.
“I suddenly felt faint. I was just going for some air.”
“Don’t lie. And don’t try to escape. I bought you. I own you. And you have a job to do.”
She resisted, tried to pull away; he caught her tight by the wrist.
“I don’t want this life,” she said, in a voice so small he could barely hear her. “I don’t want this bullshit, these games.”
“Look at me.”
Vienna raised her eyes to his face.
“I cannot understate how important this is to me and my brother. I need you to do what I ask you to do without questioning, without blowing cover, without a misstep. Please do not give me a hard time.” He finally let go of her, noticing with a frown how she rubbed at the red around her wrist as if she were still wearing shackles.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
Vienna stared at him, a kind of wounded expression on her face. Then, she shrugged, a disdainful little slip of the shoulders, and in the next moment her face broke into a beaming smile as she went into character.
Michael tried to relax.
He’d done this sort of thing on missions many times before. Both he and Devlin had. To prevent suspicion that all of their women were operatives, they’d also take nonoperatives, gorgeous women visiting from out of town or from the city’s society scene, and bring them to parties and dinners and shows.
In that way, they used business to conceal pleasure and pleasure to conceal business. Tonight should have been no different. But the job was different; having Vienna on his arm was somehow different, and they could both enjoy themselves tonight if she were willing to play the game properly.
Michael smiled and affectionately smoothed a strand back against Vienna’s updo, nuzzling her ear. Her scent made him dizzy. She looked like a porcelain doll, so perfect that she should have seemed cold; but the fire in her eyes, the smoldering pout of innocently curved lips…he already knew something burned hot inside the carefully costumed shell, and he knew Pierce would be able to see it, too.
“Laugh. Swat my shoulder or something. Pretend I said something amusing and perhaps a little suggestive.”
Vienna smiled. “Then why don’t you say something amusing and perhaps a little suggestive.”
“Don’t act up,” he said, planting a light kiss on the exposed expanse of her neck. “Unless you plan to act out a little more flirtation with me. As it is, I think you should turn it up just slightly.”
“Whose benefit would that be for exactly?” she asked, laughing and then swatting his shoulder as if he’d just said something deliciously scandalous.
“I’m going to pretend to go to the restroom. Take the opportunity to look around. Catch his eye. Linger only a moment too long. And don’t think I’ll stop watching you for a second this time.” Michael ran his finger down the vee of her bodice, stroking between her breasts, then he moved away.
Once out of the doorway, he quickly headed down the hall, turned the corner, and waited in the shadows at the opposite end of the room.
Vienna moved slowly through the crowd as if she were people-watching. Michael sucked in a quick breath as Pierce Mackey started toward her. And when Vienna finally looked up at him, the man was already staring her in the face.
She gave him the extra moment Michael had asked for, and in fact, gave him longer than he would have liked. Michael studied his family’s nemesis; he probably wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. Pierce looked boyish, underdressed for the occasion. He always had; he thought it projected a higher magnitude of his power, sending the message that his wealth gave him the right to do as he pleased, etiquette be damned.
Pierce threaded his way through the crowd until he was standing right before her. Michael’s hand clawed into the plaster wall as the man boldly stared down Vienna’s décolleté, then looked up at her and smiled his approval.
She raised her eyebrow just slightly, parting her lips in a bit of surprise, projecting a subtle attraction. She was perfect. Too perfect. Michael couldn’t stand the sight of Pierce looking like he was ready to eat her alive—and Vienna being forced to look like she just might want him to.
He headed back around and swooped in from the side to pull Vienna away, looking over his shoulder at Pierce who smiled and raised his champagne glass in cocky salute.
The look of him, the taunting look of him…it ignited Michael’s anger as nothing else could.
“She wants to fuck me later,” Pierce mouthed.
“Is everything all right?” Vienna asked.
“You were perfect,” Michael said, shaking her a little. “Press your palm against my chest like you’re trying to put some space between us.”
Vienna complied and Michael bent down and took her in a brutal kiss. On display for just one other man, Michael swept his tongue into Vienna’s mouth, savoring the heat and the sound of her gasp.
Then, tearing his lips from hers, he nuzzled her ear, and whispered, “Flick a last glance in his direction.”
She did so, and Michael pulled her out of the room, mouthing to Pierce behind him, “She wants to fuck me now.”
He passed several smaller drawing rooms before he found one unused, small and dim. Leaving the door cracked open, he drew Vienna in behind him, pulling her against his body as he leaned against the far wall.
Vienna drew in a sharp breath as he pushed the supple fabric of her long skirt away from her legs and ripped her panties off, throwing the lace to the ground. His mouth came down on hers once more and she answered his kiss with an almost violent intensity that sent him burning even hotter than before.
He slid his hands around to run his fingers along the crease of her ass, the laughter and movement of partygoers walking by the door blurring as his mind and body focused in on her and only her. Her taut body pressing against his, his fingers stroking between her legs, the urge he had to forget this was a mission and just take her for the sake of pleasure alone…
“Someone will walk in,” Vienna gasped as Michael pushed one strap of the gown off her shoulder. He drew his mouth down her burning skin to run his tongue between her breasts.
“Someone might see,” he murmured, hitching one of her legs up to him at the knee, white satin spilling behind her as he drew up the front hem of her dress. “No one will walk in.”
The possibility of discovery spurred them on, and when Vienna ran her palm down his body, tracing her fingers over the shape of his cock pressing hard against the front of his trousers, he didn’t tell her to stop. He didn’t tell her that it wasn’t necessary, that this was just part of the game, that he’d let her fake it if she wanted to.
She unzipped his trousers. Michael slammed his head back against the wall, reeling with anticipation and found Pierce Mackey watching them through the slight opening of the doorway.
Michael pressed a kiss down on Vienna’s shoulder, biting down slightly until he felt her shiver, then managed a slight “fuck you” smile for his rival as her hand wrapped around him. Her eyes closed, completely unaware of Pierce’s presence, she brushed her thumb over the head of his cock, leaving a slight damp on his skin.
He couldn’t take it a
ny longer. Moving his hands under her smooth, tight ass, he lifted her up. She swept back the folds of her dress, letting it flow behind her like molten angel wings, exposing her delicate cunt, and moved the head of his cock across her wet center.
A sweet moan escaped from her lips. Pressing just the tip of him inside her, Michael felt a wave of lust slam straight into him. And in the second before he surrendered to the sensation completely, he could feel himself pulse against her, like the most intimate heartbeat.
Suddenly insane with want, he braced himself against the wall and let Vienna’s body go just slightly. She slid down on him, tight and fast, made slick with desire, tossing her head back.
She crossed her ankles behind him, the sharp point of one of her stilettos striking the wall as he pumped her body over and down his own.
One hand around his back, the other holding her dress away, Vienna boldly revealed everything; the place where their bodies joined, the raw thrust of his cock.
The desire inside of him built, first like a dull roar, then like a blinding force that seemed to swamp all his senses. The smoothness of the fabric, the hotness of her skin, the perfume at her neck, the laughter just over the threshold…
She moaned, her eyes closed, lips parted, jeweled clips falling to the ground as her hair spilled down. Michael buried his face into the curve of her neck, and when she arched her back and cried out through parted lips, he came hard inside her.
When he finally opened his eyes and recovered enough to lower her gently to the floor, Michael realized that somewhere along the line, he’d stopped watching the door. He’d stopped thinking about throwing Vienna in his rival’s face.
He’d forgotten about Pierce Mackey entirely.
Four
Vienna couldn’t stop thinking about that night. What he asked her to do, how she’d done it…Pierce Mackey’s face, Michael’s reaction…
God, his reaction. She’d never been taken like that. Wanted like that. Every time she thought about it she sucked in a breath and felt herself go wet.
But the end, the end of the evening was strange. They’d left immediately, Michael suddenly moody and distracted. And when they were finally back in the limousine and he’d blindfolded her for the return trip, she could tell by the change in the pressure around the seat that he’d scooted far to one side.
For a moment, she’d forgotten what this was really all about. Hell, she’d forgotten about her plans to escape. All Vienna could think about for the entire ride was the tension in the few feet between her and Michael—and that it was a waste of a perfectly good limousine.
But she remembered now. She remembered that she’d tried to escape and he’d stopped her.
The sooner she got herself away from Michael Kingston’s control, the sooner she’d be able to get away. Which meant that the sooner she could convince Michael to let her go after Pierce Mackey, the better.
When Michael knocked on her door a few days later, she let him have it and told him she didn’t need any more training. That if her weaknesses had to do with makeup application, wardrobe selection, and table manners, it was a pretty sorry reason not to get on with things. He knew firsthand how well she’d be able to wield sex as a weapon.
He had the nerve to say that he hadn’t seen her shoot yet.
Michael called her to the shooting barn as he had done before for everything—when none of the training teams were around, when they’d be completely alone. It was a long building, filled with side-by-side target booths, its utilitarian nature far removed from the glamour of the theater.
She’d been supplied with a training code and told to select something to wear from the costume room. She was supposed to dress for Pierce Mackey. She found herself dressing for Michael Kingston and picked a strapless leather minidress accessorized with just a pair of thigh-high stiletto boots and a tiny black lace thong.
After making her way across the compound ground, Vienna typed her training code into the keypad by the door and pushed her way into the shooting barn. Pausing a moment to register the total silence of the place, she punched in the code once more at the vending machine. A few seconds passed, then she heard a whirring sound, a click, and then the thump of something heavy sliding down into the retrieval door.
Vienna pulled the weapon out of the slot; it was the first weapon she’d held in over a year. And though it wasn’t loaded, the sense of control she felt while holding it was a welcome change from the servant role she’d had to play both for the prison officials and for the Kingstons. If only this thing had ammo…
“Over here.”
Bobbling the weapon like an amateur, she turned and found Michael leaning on the side of the vending machine with his arms crossed over his chest, a blank expression on his face.
He walked off without commenting on her appearance which riled Vienna more than she would have expected. There was nothing to do but follow him alongside the booths toward the far end of the darkened building.
He chose the last booth, unlocked an ammunition crate, and handed her a box of bullets and a pair of protective glasses.
With the weighty silence still between them, Vienna loaded her weapon and flipped the safety. Testing the heft of the weapon and lining up her body with it a few times, she looked over at Michael for the okay and then just started blasting away.
Bull’s-eye. Bull’s-eye. Bull’s-eye. Too easy. How about a cluster on the left 40. Now on the right 30. Adrenaline surged through her body as the bullet casings showered down around their feet. You have no idea what I’m capable of Michael Kingston. No idea.
Already out of ammunition, Vienna lowered the weapon and pushed the recovery button, sending the target paper flying back in at top speed. She handed the paper to Michael; there was no disputing she was a brilliant shot.
His expression never wavered. He seemed totally unimpressed. Vienna frowned as he put the paper down and handed her another box of ammunition. “Do it again.”
She loaded up, momentarily distracted by the heat of his breath on the back of her neck as he crowded her from behind.
So he was testing her. No problem. Smiling to herself, Vienna repositioned her body, legs braced wide, upper body set to cause as little strain as possible. She squeezed the trigger.
Michael’s hand came down hard on the barrel of her weapon. She nearly dropped it, and an arc of bullet holes missed the target completely, instead cutting through the white edge of the paper as they sprayed out of control all over the far back of the booth. “What the hell?” she blurted out.
“You’re pretty pleased with yourself.”
Vienna looked over her shoulder at Michael, a self-satisfied smile on her face. “I’m hitting all the damn targets. Yeah, I’m pleased.”
He pushed the recovery button this time and reeled in the messed-up target, then ripped the hole-ridden paper from the clasp and slammed it down on the counter. “It’s not just about hitting all the damn targets. Anybody can do that just standing there with no provocation, no sound, no sight distraction.”
She studied his face. He was spoiling for a fight and wanted to argue with her. But, why? “What’s wrong?”
“You’re operating in a vacuum. Shoot like you’d have to do it in the real world.”
“No, I mean, what’s wrong with you?”
His face softened. Clearly maintaining the blank, emotionless face he’d walked in with was a bit of a struggle. Oh, Michael. I’m getting to you. I’m actually getting to you. She should have been silently reveling in this triumph as it could only aid in her escape. But Vienna couldn’t help but remember how his indifference toward her pricked so badly when he appeared to take no notice of the sexy outfit she’d put together for him.
“Why does the fact that I’m succeeding in your training program bother you so much?” she asked gently.
“It doesn’t bother me,” Michael said tightly. “Except that you think you’ve already got it conquered when we’ve hardly even begun.”
Vienna shrugged. �
��It’s too easy.”
“Make it harder on yourself, then.”
“You make it harder,” she said, raising her palms up in surrender. “You’re the trainer.”
He folded his arms across his chest, cursing under his breath. Then he suddenly went to the far wall, took out a key and opened the control box, then pressed the lever down. The lights went out, a drone sound escaping as the power went out. Vienna watched as ceiling-mounted cameras blinked, flatlined a blue streak, and went out.
“Turn around and shoot,” he said, behind her once more. A simple phrase, but the look in his eyes: complicated.
Slowly, she slipped the protective glasses off and tossed them into the corner of the cramped space. Then she took the completed target paper and crumpled it in her hands.
Then, she waited.
Michael was silent for a long time. At last he reached over and reloaded the weapon. He pointed it straight at her, then used the muzzle of the gun to sweep a fallen lock of hair back behind her ear.
Vienna’s heart pounded as the metal grazed her temple, but the dangerous look in Michael’s eyes didn’t yield that kind of threat.
“Take your weapon back and approach the counter,” he ordered, his voice dripping with suggestion. A delicious little shiver went down Vienna’s spine as she did as he demanded.
“Now, concentrate, Vienna. What if there was someone up in your business while you were trying to make a hit?” Michael asked. He moved in from behind, so close she could feel the heat of his body all around her.
She made a perfect shot.
He put his mouth up to her ear, running the tip of his tongue around her earring. “It’s night,” he murmured.
“I guessed that,” she said harshly, refusing to give in so easily.
“Brace your legs, hold your arms up straight, and shoot,” he ordered.
You’re going to have to make it harder than that. Deliberately trying to mess with him as much as he was messing with her, she ran her tongue slowly over the cupid’s bow of her lip, then turned to the target and very systematically began shooting off rounds, every bit as accurate as before.
