Page 6 of Over the Edge

Raising my chin, I pinned my supposed head of security with a withering glare. “The man is a hammer in search of a nail. My father insisted after the Dubai incident. I didn’t think it was necessary, but... here we are.”

A beat of silence.

Then two.

Dubai wasn’t in my dossier. It was a lie, but hopefully one delivered with enough conviction that Moreau would believe it.

Moreau’s eyes flicked to the intruder, then to me, then back to the intruder. “I see. How did you get past my guards?”

“I’m paid not to be seen,” the man—‘Mercer’—drawled, his voice a rough rasp that did absolutely nothing to help my libido situation. “And your guards are better at looking intimidating than actually securing the perimeter.”

Moreau did not like that. A frown tried to wrinkle his brow, but Botox kept it smooth, so instead he just looked constipated.

“Mr. Mercer is excellent at his job,” I added, “but terrible at understanding boundaries.”

The man’s mouth curved in a quicksilver smile. “Boundaries are luxuries for people who don’t have enemies, Ms. Deveraux.”

He stepped closer, and I caught his scent. It wasn’t expensive cologne like Moreau wore. It was soap and leather and clean sweat and so very… male. His hand came to rest at the small of my back. The touch was warm through the silk of my gown, just as proprietary as Moreau’s had been, but it didn’t give me the same chill.

“You need to come with me, ma’am.”

I opened my mouth to protest, and his fingers pressed against my spine. A warning? A signal? I couldn’t be sure.

“Now.”

The look in his amber eyes held me frozen, a message there I couldn’t quite decipher but understood was important.

I took a moment to pull myself together, making sure my Elisa persona was firmly in place before facing Moreau again.

“Perhaps we can continue our discussion tomorrow,” I suggested, allowing regret to color my tone. “I find your proposal intriguing.”

Moreau studied us both for a long, uncomfortable time before inclining his head. “Of course. I have a private cabana at the beach club. Join me for a light lunch? One o’clock.”

“Sounds lovely,” I said, offering my hand.

Instead of shaking it, Moreau pressed his lips to my knuckles, lingering a few seconds longer than necessary. “Until tomorrow, then.” When he straightened, his eyes were on my supposed head of security instead of me. “Mr. Mercer, I trust you’ll take good care of our mutual interest.”

The stranger’s fingers flexed against my spine. “That’s what I’m paid for.” He guided me toward the elevator with firm pressure on my back. Every instinct screamed to stay and plant the tracker, but Moreau’s suspicions were already aroused. One wrong move could blow my cover entirely.

“A pleasure meeting you, Ms. Deveraux,” Moreau called after us. “I look forward to continuing our negotiations.”

The threat beneath his words was unmistakable. He’d be investigating “the Dubai incident” before our lunch. I had less than twenty-four hours to patch the hole in my cover story.

The elevator ride down to the lobby was excruciating.

The moment the doors slid shut, I stepped out of the stranger’s reach. Tension knotted the muscles in my neck and shoulders, and a headache throbbed in warning at the back of my skull. I wanted answers, but didn’t dare speak yet. Cameras were watching, and Moreau would absolutely comb through every frame. I had to stay in character. Cool. Controlled. Unbothered.

Meanwhile, the so-called bodyguard beside me stood with infuriating ease, his hands folded in front of him like he hadn’t just steamrolled into my op and detonated weeks of prep work with a single dramatic entrance. His face was a mask of professional indifference, but there was something in his eyes, wild and sharp-edged.

I hated how aware of him I was.

When the elevator dinged, he moved again, his hand returning possessively to the small of my back like it belonged there, infuriatingly warm through the silk of my dress. I wanted to elbow him in the ribs. I also wanted to lean back into that touch.

God, was I so starved for sex that this was all it took? Sure, it had been almost a year since I’d seen any action beyond my vibrator, but come on. One attractive guy with boundary issues, and my body was suddenly all in?

Pathetic.

Focus, Lyric.

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