Page 3 of Scarlet Mark
She had a few hard limits—something her profile indicated.
What wasn’t listed was her desired price. But I had an idea of what she needed, given how much she stole from Senator Jenkins, how much she spent on this new identity ofScarlet Rosalind.
I flicked through the proposals she’d acquired over the last several nights. She’d declined all of them.
Difficult and confident, I mused, grinning.My kind of woman. Let’s play.
I keyed in an amount ten times as much as her highest submission, requesting only a dance in one of the exclusive rooms downstairs. Then I checked the box forAdditional Service Negotiations Accepted.Which meant, if things went well, we could discuss prolonging our time together and doing other, more expensive activities. In private.
My name—myrealname—was displayed on the sender line, the terms all laid out.
She’d be able to see my history from otherDiavolo Rojoclubs, including the ratings her overseas colleagues had left for me. All excellent scores because they were my informants, not my conquests.
I avoided mixing business with pleasure because I was one of the villains who used those interludes to my advantage. Powerful people had a tendency to discuss private matters when in the company of beautiful women, and my contacts were brilliant at exploiting those moments. I also paid them handsomely for it. Attending the club was just a cover, an easy way to hold a covert meeting with some trusted informants.
Not that Amara would be able to review that part of the equation. She would only see I typically requested dances and rarely anything more. And I always behaved. At least on the surface.
Selecting Send, I set the device on the table and lifted my scotch.
Her wrist lit up seconds later, indicating she’d just received another request—my request.
Amara’s slender shoulders tightened just enough to show her discomfort, but when she read through the offer on the wristwatch face of her bracelet, her lips actually parted.
Such a beautiful, fuckable mouth.
I could see why the senator actually desired her alive. Putting this woman in the ground would be a crime against humanity. Not that she didn’t deserve it. She’d ditched the man at the altar and ran off with half of his bank account. A con woman with expert skill.
Mmm, perfection, really. How I adored vindictive women.
She nibbled her plump lower lip, her gaze scanning the room. As if I would make this easy on her. Someone like Amara required the mystery to accept such a fate.
All she could see of me was a silhouette—my all-black suit blending into the dark edges surrounding me. I’d chosen this spot because it provided me with me a full view of the room and placed a solid wall to my back.
And it shadowed my face from most of the room.
The ideal vantage point for an assassin.
Me.
Indecision warred across her features, her confidence finally wavering. Fascinating. It seemed my little vixen didn’t want to be alone with male customers. Did she prefer women? Was that why she left the senator so easily?
Hmm, no, because she’d also received several offers from couples looking to add a third.
She clearly had trust issues. Something I could hardly fault her for, given her chosen profession as a scam artist.
I swirled the contents in my glass, waiting.
Watching.
Grinning.
She lowered her arm, neither accepting nor declining, and proceeded to assist another table. And then another. Every few steps, pausing to glance at her wrist as if it held all the answers.
Come on, princess. Dance for me.I wanted her alone. Not necessarily a requirement, as I’d have her in my hands soon enough, but I loved a good game of cat and mouse. And this little mouse tickled my fancy.
Almost thirty minutes passed before she touched her bracelet again.
That only served to intrigue me even more. She’d nearly given up an annual salary, out of fear? Or something more?
