Chapter Twenty-Two

The mission was at hand. She needed to steal the packet and get out of here. Everything else was secondary.

Bypassing the bar, she recalled the map of the house to guide her around. Graves wouldn't be expecting her back right away. He would occupy Imani and Montrell, giving her time to work the job. That old familiar feeling radiated through her limbs. She tried to keep the smile from her lips. She still had to pretend to be Graves's plaything if anyone saw her. But it was so good to be using her talents. What could she say? She liked stealing things.

Kierse navigated the glass rooms carefully. Thankfully, the rest of the party had already had the punch. Everyone swayed drunkenly. She passed a couple having sex in a not-so-discreet corner and peeked into a room in which there was a full-on orgy. She wasn't a prude, and yet it still made her blush. The wish powder in that punch must be potent.

Finally, she came to Montrell and Imani's main quarters. The bedroom was at the farthest end of the hallway, but there were rooms on either side that she knew from the blueprints were their offices. With a careful glance at the drunks at the end of the hall, she removed a bobby pin from her hair and made quick work of the tumblers in the lock on the door to the left. She pushed the door open and startled when she saw what was inside.

Crates.

Floor-to-ceiling crates.

What the hell was all of this? Regardless, it wasn't what she was looking for. Kierse double-checked that the coast was clear and then carefully locked the strange room behind her. Time was ticking. She stepped across the hall, wondering if she was going to find the same thing in the next one. But as soon as she'd picked the lock, the crowd surged toward her. She couldn't discreetly check what was in this room without everyone now seeing her. She couldn't even lock it back up without drawing attention.

So she pretended like she was one of them and let herself get swept up in the crowd. When she reached the bar, she grabbed two glasses of the house punch and sauntered back to Graves's side.

He stood before Imani and Montrell, though they had moved closer to him. Drawn like moths to a flame, no doubt. None of them noticed when she slipped back to his side.

"But what about Kingston?" Montrell asked, bristling.

"Leave Kingston to me," Graves said.

"You're sure that you can get this past him?" Imani asked.

"If anyone can, Graves can," Montrell said. His eyes were wide with lust.

Kierse leaned forward, sloshing punch as if she'd been drinking the poison. She giggled. "Dance with me."

Imani smirked up at Graves. "And how can you deny her?"

Graves took the drinks out of her hands and set them on a nearby table. "I can't deny her a thing."

He took Kierse's hand and pulled her away from business discussions. She wondered if it had something to do with the crates. She was anxious to tell him about them, but not with all these people around and Imani and Montrell suspicious of their appearance. They had to act the part. So, she let him pull her into his arms at the periphery of the crowd. She wasn't sure Graves would even dance. He didn't seem like the type. He always stood so stiffly, with a book in his hands. Yet here he was, surprising her.

She rolled her hips to the tempo of the music. His hands slipped down her exposed arms, the leather of his gloves smooth on her skin. Then he took one of her hands and twirled her around away from him. She kept moving as if they were always this close. His gaze roamed from her waist and down over her hips, appreciating every curve in her diaphanous dress.

It was an act. A clever, cruel act. And yet, as he tugged her hard against his own hips, the evidence of what she was doing to him was very real. She gasped. Her core tightened. He was turned on by her. And oh god, she was turned on by him. She raised her hands up over her head, swirling provocatively, unabashedly against him. Someone who was sleeping with him wouldn't be surprised that he was hard against her ass. She'd revel in it.

"Wren," he growled into her ear.

"Mmm," she hummed, the sound of that one syllable steadying her.

"Did you drink the punch?"

She slowly turned back to face him, keeping their bodies pressed together. Her hand looped around his neck, and she fingered the ends of his midnight-blue hair. "I did everything you told me to."

It was a seductive sentence. As if she frequently took orders.

His eyes searched hers, looking for signs of intoxication in her. But she was clearheaded.

"And would you do everything I told you?"

She nearly froze but remembered where they were and how important this was. She was in his arms. He was teasing her. She could tease back. She dragged her bloodred nails down his neck and over his chest. She snagged his tie, pulling his face down closer to hers. Those beautiful thundercloud eyes combed for answers he couldn't seem to find.

"Everything and more," she teased with a wink.

He cleared his throat, and she felt him press against her almost involuntarily. "Then perhaps we should see where that leads."

He took her hand in his and looked nowhere but at her as they disappeared from the main room. Her heart pounded as he guided her away from Imani and Montrell. She was his plaything. This was normal. But it wasn't a game. Not entirely. Not with the tiny scrap of underwear hardly concealing her desire.

He slipped down the hallway to the study, and his breath came against her ear. "Which door?"

She returned to herself all at once. A job. Just a job. They were here to steal something.

"Right," she said. "I already unlocked it. Left was just full of crates."

He nodded and stopped before it. "We have an audience," he whispered under his breath.

Then he rocked her back against the wall, his body covering hers. A sharp exhale escaped her. She could feel the hard lines of his body, feel his fire leeching into her.

An audience. Which meant there had to be no reason to suspect that they were going into that room for any other purpose but a hookup. Graves's head dipped into her neck. His breath was hot against her skin. Her hands gripped the front of his suit as she tipped her head back seductively, wanton.

"What are you?" he growled low. He wrapped an arm around her waist. "Are you a siren, luring me to my death?"

She was stunned by the words. The real words there. "Are you lured?"

His response was to turn the handle and push the door open. He tilted his head to the side, and she entered the darkened depths. The door clicked closed behind them.

"This is it."

Graves nodded. They were in a study—Imani's study—which was exactly what they were looking for. "Get started. I'll guard the door."

Kierse swallowed down the feelings rushing through her and got to work. She rifled through Imani's belongings. She was careful and meticulous, and after a minute, she asked, "Can you sense anything? Any magic in the room that would indicate where the letters would be kept?"

"No. The whole house is flush with magic. It's everywhere."

She grumbled, "That's helpful."

Kierse had moved to the bookshelf and was pulling at the books in hopes of finding a hollow one when Graves cursed softly under his breath. In the span of a heartbeat, he was before her. She faced him in confusion, but he just tugged her back against him. Her lips parted at the sudden change in his demeanor. Time slowed in the way she had only experienced when she was fighting. And then Graves descended on her.

At the first touch of his lips on hers, she was lost. It was neither gentle nor comforting. It wasn't even intimate, exactly. It was possessive, demanding, and achingly alpha. It said mine, mine, mine. The kiss was an awakening. Like every kiss before ceased to exist. There was no moment before or after this. Here was eternity.

He leaned her back against the bookshelf, heedless of the books digging into her spine. His hands cupped her face like she was one of his prized possessions. And his mouth owned her, parting her lush lips and brushing his tongue across her own.

That was the moment the door creaked open.