Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Satin said, right after opening up her bedroom door. She was in business casual today, a large breezy white blouse, tied neatly on one hip, matched with slender black leggings and spike heels. Her hair was half-up, half-down, she had on her golden cuff, and her very red lipstick was applied absolutely perfectly.

I was surprised to find I’d managed to go to sleep the night before. Not for lack of sexual activity, but because I’d spent far too long thinking on non-mission-critical things.

“What timezone are we in?” I asked, waking up.

“Such a good question!” she said, before raiding the fridge. “We flew to Bejing, in an effort to make the men after me waste their resources—but now we’re landing in Morocco. Want anything?”

I had helped myself to some of the food in the fridge the prior night, in between bouts of pacing—it was a good thing Satin couldn’t see all the little cloven dents my hooves had left in her jet’s carpeting.

“I’m good.”

“You sure?” she said…prettily.

The was the only word for it, as she slouched into a seat and smiled winningly, seemingly without artifice, and it broke me.

“Yeah. But—you know—just because last night was good—I’m not just some switch you can flip.” My truth tumbled out before I could stop it. “You may not know this, I’m not really sure how much time you spend online,” I went on, ruffling the fur at the back of my head with a hand. “But—I get fetishized. Like, a lot. People make assumptions about me—and my dick—all the time.”

Her demeanor became chilly again. “And you think I’m doing that to you?”

“To be honest, I don’t know what you’re doing. But I think we’d probably better keep this clinical, from here on out.”

She set the box of pastries she’d pulled out aside. “I see.”

“I don’t want to upset you,” I said, diving my head sideways, trying not to take out a nearby seat with a horn.

“Trust me. You haven’t,” she said primly. “Now…shall we discuss the mission?”

I grunted, and she pulled out her phone.

It took her a moment to find what she was looking for— how did she know?— but eventually she managed, and handed it over to me.

“That’s the blueprint for the Marjazan Resort Casino. I’ve got an invitation for the high stakes lounge. We’ll go in, and when we’re there, we’ll spend this,” she said, pulling a red and black casino chip out of her cleavage. “My people will be waiting for it, and then Euronews’s report of people who accepted bribes will be ready to go.”

I frowned at her. “Won’t people find it odd that a blind woman wants to play?”

Her expression instantly became even icier. “That’s where you come in. This time you’ll be my recent bodyguard-turned-boyfriend, and I’ll merely be candy for your arm.”

I opened my mouth, and then closed it, before anything could come out.

“Wheels down in thirty,” she said, quickly readjusting the blindfold’s bow beneath her hair. “If you need to brush your teeth or comb your fur, you should hurry.”