Page 12 of The Player

Hope agreed, her eyes still on the card. “In the meantime, I’ll work on narrowing down the list of potential moles within Cerberus. There has to be something I missed.”

“Not necessarily. Whoever it is has been fooling all of us for God only knows how long. Cerberus is working on getting the address for that phone number. Once we have it, I’ll pull up the schematics of the building and see if I can get us some better intel,” Seth replied, his tone thoughtful. “We need to know every inch of that place before we walk in.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of the mission pressing down on them. Seth could feel the tension between them, the way it had been building ever since they arrived in London. It was more than just the stress of the job—it was something deeper, something that neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

Finally, Hope turned away, breaking the moment. “I’ll be in the office,” she said, her voice tight.

Seth watched her go, the sway of her hips drawing his eyes even as he told himself to look away. She was a puzzle he couldn’t solve, a temptation he couldn’t afford to give in to. But damn if she didn’t make it hard to stay focused.

Two days passed in a slow, agonizing blur. They danced around each other, each absorbed in their tasks but acutely aware of the other’s presence. Hope spent hours in front of her computer, analyzing data, cross-referencing files, trying to find the one clue that would expose the mole. Seth buried himself in the blueprints of the building they’d been able to get from the phone number on the card, memorizing every hallway, every exit, every potential blind spot.

And all the while, the tension between them grew, a taut wire ready to snap. They exchanged curt, professional words, each determined to keep their distance, but the air between them was charged, crackling with the unspoken desires they both tried to ignore. They slept in the same bed, but except for that first night, it was as if the Great Wall of China had run between them, separating them in what seemed an insurmountable way.

Finally, on the third day, the time came to make the call. Seth sat beside Hope at the kitchen table, his eyes on her as she picked up the phone. She hesitated for a moment, her finger hovering over the keypad, before finally dialing the number on the card.

The phone rang twice before a woman answered, her voice smooth and polished, with the kind of posh accent that spoke of old money and privilege.

“This is Gwendolyn,” the woman said, her tone cool and controlled. “How may I assist you?”

Hope cleared her throat, slipping into character as easily as she put on a new dress. “This is Hope Conway. My husband and I received an invitation from Basil Hargrove.”

There was a brief pause, and Seth could almost hear the woman’s calculating mind whirring on the other end of the line. “Ah, Mrs. Conway,” Gwendolyn replied, her voice softening with a hint of amusement. “We’ve been expecting your call. Basil speaks very highly of you and your husband.”

“We’re honored,” Hope replied smoothly. “He mentioned there were other places to play other than Baker Street?”

Gwendolyn let out a low, throaty laugh. “Yes, indeed. Compared to our club, Baker Street might as well have an open-door policy. What we offer is something… even more exclusive, shall we say.”

Seth exchanged a glance with Hope, their shared understanding passing between them without words. This was it—their ticket into the inner circle, into the heart of the cartel.

“We’d be very interested in learning more,” Hope said, her voice laced with just the right amount of curiosity.

“Wonderful,” Gwendolyn replied, her tone filled with approval. “We’d love to have you join us tomorrow evening. I’ll send a car to collect you at seven.”

“That sounds perfect,” Hope said, her tone warm and inviting. “We’ll be ready.”

“Excellent. Mr. Conway should wear a conservative suit. You should be dressed in a corset and thong.”

“Won’t I be a bit conspicuous?” asked Hope.

“No. You should wear a traditional raincoat over it and high heels. You will surrender the coat at the door. Whether or not you keep the heels, thong, or corset is entirely up to Mr. Conway. We don’t just play at dominance and submission here. I’m sure you’ll both find the experience… enlightening.” Gwendolyn’s voice held a promise and a threat, one that made Seth’s instincts bristle with both anticipation and caution.

“Thank you, Gwendolyn,” Hope said, her voice smooth as silk. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, the line went dead, and Hope set the phone down, her eyes meeting Seth’s. The tension between them crackled with the unspoken understanding that they were about to step deeper into the shadows of the op.

“We’re in,” Hope said quietly, her voice filled with a mixture of triumph and trepidation.

Seth nodded, the weight of their next steps pressing down on him. “We need to be prepared. This place isn’t going to be like Baker Street. If Gwendolyn is right, we’re stepping into a whole new level of danger.”

Hope’s expression hardened, determination flashing in her eyes. “I know. We need to make sure we’re in sync. No mistakes.”

Seth studied her for a moment, his gaze intense. “Then let’s practice,” he said, his voice low. “We need to be ready for whatever they throw at us.”

Hope’s eyes flickered with something—doubt, hesitation—but she nodded. “Fine,” she said, her voice steadier than before. “Let’s get into character.”

Seth stood, extending his hand to her. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet, the heat of their bodies close enough to set his blood simmering. He could feel the tension in her, the way she held herself just slightly apart from him, as if she were bracing herself for something.

He knew he had to push her, to break through the barriers she kept so tightly in place. If they were going to pull this off, they needed to be convincing, which meant tearing down the walls she had built around herself.

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