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Toxic Seduction (Romantic Secret Agents Series Book 3) by Roxy Sinclaire (20)

Excerpt From Dirty Indiscretions

I walked around the spacious room, keeping an eye on the guests. I could think of a dozen things off the top of my head, that I would rather be doing, but it was part my job description, apparently.

I wasn’t a guy that liked to wear suits, but I'd had to get used to it with the crowd I ran with. Still, dealing with the upper crust wasn’t a part of my job that I liked. I was supposed to be there to enjoy the events, not working; but I couldn’t help but act as a lookout. The party was boring, anyway.

And then she caught my eye, and I had second thoughts.

Tall, slim, in a close-fitting black dress with a slit up the side that stopped high on her thigh, showing a mile of pale, toned leg. The dress had a 'V' neckline, down the front and back, that showed, even more, skin, so pale that the contrast against the dark dress was striking. The hem nearly swept the floor, even with her high heels. Her dark brown hair was held back by pins on one side so that it hung down her back and onto her opposite shoulder. I wasn’t close enough to see her eyes, but I thought with her coloring, they would be a dark color like her hair, maybe brown.

She wasn’t the best dressed, nor was she the skimpiest dressed woman in the room, I could see that with just a cursory look around. Yet, when I took my eyes off her to do just that, I found my attention skittering back to her.

I didn’t think I knew her. That wouldn’t be surprising; I didn’t know a lot of the people at this party, considering I was technically just the help. But I'd been to enough of these parties that I knew the crowd my boss ran with.

Intrigued, I followed her around the room. She interested me more than most, because unlike everybody else, she didn’t find a group and stand around chatting with them. Instead, she moved around the room, never sticking to one group long, always with a glass of champagne in her hand that she never drank from, though she brought it to her lips a couple of times, only to be 'distracted' and forget about it again. I noticed, that in all the stops she made, she didn’t speak to anyone.

I narrowed my eyes.

I looked around. Everyone was busy, making polite conversation and whatever else those rich types did when they got together at a party. I caught sight of my boss on the other side of the room and decided that for once, he wasn’t doing anything shady. No one was paying attention to things they shouldn’t, yet this woman didn’t look like she was paying attention to anything specifically.

Trying not to act suspicious, I moved into her orbit. She wasn’t following a pattern, but I'd gotten good at maneuvering this sort of shindig.

I was lucky enough to have her coming closer to me. No one was close enough to pay any notice to either one of us. I couldn’t resist the urge to move and intercept her circuit.

She looked up, almost surprised, to see me. I'd seen her moving with single-minded focus, despite how randomly she seemed to move, so I wasn’t sure I bought that she was surprised to run into me.

"Please, forgive me for interrupting you, ma'am, but I couldn’t help but notice you and get a little curious." I gave her a genuine-looking smile, playing the part of a young gentleman.

It was almost laughable.

The surprised look was instantaneously replaced by something gracious, a small smile curving her lips. "Think nothing of it. Who, if I may ask, do I have the pleasure of conversing with?"

She held her hand out to me, the curl of her lips turning up into something like mirth. Feeling amusement curve my own mouth in response, I took her hand and brought it to my lips, kissing the back of it. Her dark eyes watched me, intent on mine.

"Luke Bable. But please, call me Luke."

Bable, technically, wasn’t my real name, but it was the name I’d taken when I’d left my old life after being recruited. It was a safe enough name to use, the few times I’d had to introduce myself to people because Luke Bable did not exist.

The pretty lady in front of me didn’t need to know all that, though.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Luke. I am Elda Abba. But you can call me Elda," she added, her smile turning into a smirk.

"Elda," I repeated, curling my tongue around the name. Her eyes grew slightly darker in fascination, and I felt almost smug. Her last name was foreign, but I couldn’t begin to think from where. "Well, Elda. I was wondering if you would mind accompanying me."

I tugged her closer by the hand, pulling it around my elbow and flattening my hand over hers on my arm. She moved without resistance.

"Should I be worried? A strange man comes up to me and asks me to accompany him. It's suspicious, no?"

I chuckled, keeping my voice low. "It’s a private party. Trust me, everyone is vetted for these things. We're both here, so you should have nothing to worry about," I said pointedly.

Her lashes lowered to cover her eyes, lips pursing. "As you say," she murmured, diplomatically.

I pulled her with me and she followed. We avoided other guests and the staff. The room was quite large and littered with guests, but I didn’t need to take her from it.

Instead, I dragged her over to a corner that left us out of view from most of the room, and the section that could still see us weren’t going to be considering dark corners unless they wanted some action for themselves. But this crowd was much too classy for something like that.

I stopped her there, turning so we were facing each other and took a quick glance around, just to be sure.

"Are we here for any reason in particular?" she sounded amused.

I decided to be blunt. "I need to frisk you."

Just about any other person would have been annoyed or insulted. No one got frisked at these parties, they were checked before they got this far. This woman was a little special, though.

"Is there any particular reason?" she murmured, looking up at me from under her lashes, but I thought her amusement only grew.

"I never saw your name on the guest list."

She gave a Gallic shrug. "Maybe I was invited last minute and my name isn’t on it."

I smiled tightly, repeating, "Just the same, Miss Abba, I'm going to need to frisk you."

"There's no reason you can't still call me Elda." She tugged her hand away from me and I didn’t stop her. "And of course, you can frisk me. For purely security reasons."

I narrowed my eyes on her. "Are you laughing at me, Elda?"

"I wouldn’t dream of it, Luke."

I was sure she was, though.

She took a step back and raised her arms from her sides, arching an eyebrow at me, her look practically daring me to go ahead.

I couldn’t help the suspicion. These parties had such tight security, even I was impressed. No one not on the list—prepared weeks in advance, should have been able to bypass it. How she got in, I didn’t know, but I didn't think asking would get me anywhere. She'd just deny, deny, deny.

Or, if she was especially good, she'd have an airtight excuse.

"You can frisk me," she told me when I didn’t immediately begin.

I moved closer, moving my hands and placing my fingertips on her wrists. There was no need, her arms were bare so there was no way she could have hidden anything there, but I ran my fingertips up her arms and to her shoulders. I followed the straps of her dress, sliding my hands down her sides and around her back, being thorough.

Of course, there was nothing on her. I also noticed the very conspicuous lack of a purse on her person. And what self-respecting woman, even in a crowd like this, wouldn’t have a purse on her? I didn’t see her coming in, so there was no way to know if she had one somewhere in the room. I'd have to leave her and go ask the guard outside the main entrance.

But I couldn’t think about that for long. I couldn’t really think of anything but slowly frisking her, all the time my eyes on hers.

When I got to her hips, I lowered into a crouch, craning my neck to keep her eyes.

"Widen your legs for me, just a bit." The words came out in a murmur, and I saw her swallow, felt her body shift under my hands as she moved to comply.

I'd looked at her body long enough to know every curve, even as I mapped them with my hands—for purely business purposes, of course—but I hadn't gotten a good look at her eyes. They were brown, like I'd guessed, but not a dull brown like I was used to seeing. Even in the slightly shadowed corner, they seemed to glimmer.

They were surprisingly familiar eyes. But right then, all I was interested in was how intently they watched me.

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