Page 13 of Wrong Pawn. Right Capo.

Elena stands near the center of the courtyard, weight shifting subtly from one heel to the other, the slightest tension in her posture betraying her boredom as she speaks to a couple.

I remain three steps behind her by both habit and design. The couple leaves, then she resumes greeting donors, touching arms of familiar faces and laughing a little too loudly at both compliments and jokes until a man stops to greet her.

He looks to be in his mid-forties, dressed in a tailored suit, a wedding band gleaming on his finger. He’s staring down at her, his pupils dilating every time he makes her laugh.

His posture is relaxed, pulse steady, and demeanor calm. He’s in no position to be called a threat; still, when he takes a fractionally closer step, my jaw locks.

I feel the insatiable urge to break his jaw.

She’s in a fire-red gown that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, her beautiful blonde hair pinned up just enough to expose the slender nape of her neck, her bare shoulders catching the glow of streetlights.

It takes far more restraint to keep my eyes where they belong, and even more to ignore the men who don’t even bother trying to hide their stares.

My chest tightens as I scan the crowd for signs of anything suspicious. Assignments like this make me itch. The noise, the movement, the unpredictability; I thrive on it. And fuck do my fingers itch for some action, but the professional side of me knows that a quiet night is a successful one.

Apart from Elena herself, one downside to this job is that there’s barely any fun. Being in Enzo’s security detail still allowed some flexibility where I killed… unleashed the monster locked inside me. But here I just have to deal with… her.

The man she’d been speaking with finally excuses himself. She waits a beat, then approaches me.

“I need to use the restroom,” she says sweetly. Too sweetly that my senses are on high alert. I swear if she’s up to something…

She starts to walk, and I follow closely. Somewhere between scanning the crowd and her, my gaze slides to the high slit cutting up her dress, stopping around her mid-thigh. She’s model-tall and lean, but her ass still holds enough flesh to make my dick twitch.

And though I shouldn’t, I can’t help but imagine fucking her again.

Suddenly, she stops and spins on her heel, lips squeezing into a frown.

“You’re not following me to the restroom, are you?”

I inhale sharply, thankful it’s a bit dark, and no one can see the fucking hard-on in my pants.

“Behave, Elena.”

She gasps dramatically, eyes wide. “You pervert.”

I don’t reply, and half expect her to pull the ‘I’ll tell Enzo’ card when she scoffs and walks away. Before she turns, I catch a mischievous glint in her eyes. And the next thing I know, she bolts, speed walking through the crowd to cut a corner up ahead.

My jaw tightens as I push through the crowd without breaking stride, ignoring the irritation bubbling in my chest. When I cut the corner, she disappears around a marble pillar, her heels clicking even faster against the marble now.

I initially thought she could be leverage or an asset, but she’s just a fucking headache.

I catch up to her near the private garden entrance, fingers closing around her wrist before she can slip further away. She spins, lips parted in a mischievous smile that tells me she expected this.

“Let go of me,” she says lightly, like we’re flirting and not one bad second away from a security breach.

I lean in, barely restraining my temper. “Do you have a death wish, or are you just bored?”

“Wanted to give you a run for your money.” She shrugs casually, and I almost drive my head into a wall when she tries to do a spin below my hand as if we’re dancing.

Doesn’t she understand the severity of her actions?

“You don’t walk ahead of me.” My nostrils flare in annoyance. “You don’t walk alone. You move when I move.”

She leans closer and sneers. “I don’t think so.”

I almost laugh in her face. “Tell me no again and watch how fast the word dies on your tongue.”

She freezes for a split second. I’m satisfied with the silence that eats the space between us until she swallows and rolls her eyes. “Oh, I’m scared,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.