Page 72 of Over the Edge

I maintained my languid pose, though every nerve in my body was firing warning signals. “I never enter a marketplace without a shopping list, Monsieur Moreau.”

“And what’s at the top of yours, I wonder?” He leaned in, close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath. “The Ghoststep Cloak? The Neural Disruptor? Or are you still dead-set on Sentinel?”

“What if I want it all?”

His laugh sounded genuine.

“Ambition suits you.” His gaze lingered on my face, then dragged deliberately down my body. “But you’ll forgive me if I find myself... questioning your intentions.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Questioning?”

“A truck carrying my merchandise was sabotaged last night.”

My heart stuttered, but Elisa’s face showed only mild interest. “How unfortunate for you.”

He swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “Coincidentally, it happened right after I offered you the invitation to come here.”

“Are you accusing me of something, Monsieur Moreau?” I let just enough ice creep into my tone to remind him who Elisa Deveraux was supposed to be—wealthy, powerful, and not someone to be trifled with.

“Mm.” He took another sip. “You must understand my concern. Your documentation is impeccable, your references check out perfectly, and your financial trail is pristine. Too pristine.”

I turned to face the sea again, buying myself a moment to control my expression. “I pay good money for discretion.”

“As do I.” His hand settled on the small of my back, fingers splayed possessively. “Which is why I know there was a breach in the security system at my warehouse exactly twenty-three minutes before the truck incident. Right as Vidal was escorting you from my suite. We found a tracker on his phone.”

His hand was a brand through the thin fabric of my dress.

I forced myself not to flinch away. “Perhaps you should upgrade your security rather than harassing your guests with baseless accusations.”

His fingers tightened incrementally. “There are ways to regain my trust, Elisa.” The way he said my cover name made it sound like he knew it was false. “Starting with joining me in my private quarters before the auction begins. I find trust is best built in intimate settings, don’t you?”

He made it sound like an invitation. But there was nothing optional about it.

I calculated my response carefully. An outright rejection would insult him, potentially closing off my access to Sentinel. Enthusiastic acceptance would seem suspicious given Elisa’s previously established boundaries. I needed to navigate the narrow space between.

“That’s a very... direct proposition,” I said, letting a hint of appreciative surprise color my voice. “I hadn’t expected you to be so forthright.”

“I’m a man who knows what he wants.” His fingers traced up my arm to my collarbone. “And I think we could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement, you and I.”

I tilted my head, as if considering. “What would this arrangement entail, exactly?”

“You in my bed tonight, before the auction…” His thumb brushed the base of my throat. “…will assure me you had nothing to do with my security breach, and win you certain advantages during bidding.”

“Insider trading, Monsieur Moreau?” I raised an eyebrow, injecting just the right amount of playful reproach. “How scandalous.”

“Business and pleasure often mix well in my experience.” His eyes dropped to my lips. “What do you say, Elisa? Shall we explore what else we might... exchange?”

I placed my hand lightly on his chest, neither pushing him away nor pulling him closer. “You make a compelling case.” I let a smile play at the corners of my mouth. “But I never make important decisions in haste.”

His expression hardened slightly. “The auction begins at midnight.”

“And I still have hours to consider your generous offer.” I slid from between him and the railing, grateful to be out of the cloud of his cologne. “If you’ll excuse me, I should freshen up before making any... significant commitments.”

I could feel his frustration radiating like heat as I stepped away. This wasn’t a man accustomed to waiting for what he wanted.

“Don’t take too long, Ms. Deveraux,” he called after me. “Some opportunities are time-sensitive.”

I glanced back over my shoulder, offering a smile that promised nothing but suggested everything. “The best things are worth waiting for, wouldn’t you agree?”

---