Page 40 of Damián

“I get it. It is an uncomfortable and unnecessary title,” Tae agrees, and I want to hug that ice-cube of a man.

“I can help you feel connected,” Leif offers, pressing his palms over his chest. “By opening your mind and getting rid of all those walls you’ve built, you can have a very happy love life.”

“Dios mío, Leif. I’m not going to actually date Oliver. We will be faking it. Nothing will be real.”

“Nej. That’s impossible, man,” the stubborn Swedish twin replies. “You can call it fake, but whenever we touch someone, and they touch us, our bodies and souls connect. That won’t ever be fake.”

“Yeah, Dami,” Björn says, back on his chair and now grabbing three slices of pizza and stacking them on top of each other like a monstrous sandwich. “With your track record of having casual hookups get completely obsessed with you, what are you going to do when the mini drug lord falls in love and wants more?”

“First of all, they don’t all obsess,” I say, and the entire table collectively scoffs.

Culeros…

“And second of all…” I continue. “Oliver is a player. Have you seen his intel file? The guy sleeps around with everyone he meets.”

“But you’ll be acting as his boyfriend, Dami. Not a hookup.” Knox points out as he wipes the top of a soda can before opening it.

“So what if we are? That is the beauty of this plan because he’s just as casual as I am. So no matter what kind of sexual or lovie-shit I do with this man, he won’t ever want more.”

Alexios shakes his head, typing on the keyboard. “I still can’t believe you’re going to have a boyfriend,” he says, and I shoot him a glare so intense that I swear I almost conjure a forbidden Spanish curse.

“Fake boyfriend… obviously,” he corrects immediately.

“Stop it with the boyfriend shit,” I sigh, dragging my hands down my face. “I’m still trying to process that stupid title.”

“If it’s any consolation, I believe the change of status makes perfect sense.” Law sets his rifle on the table and walks over to the bar to make himself a tea. “The Wests will be considerably more at ease with your presence, provided you appear committed to their son.”

“I understand the logic,” I grudgingly admit, leaning back in my chair. “But I don’t like it… Almost as much as I don’t like moving apartments and cutting contact with my family.”

“It is for the best, Dami,” says Knox, his fingers scratching his short black hair. “I promise we’ll do our best to finish and get you back home as fast as we can.”

“Thanks…”

“Which brings us to your new life. Everything, from your CIA record, your training, your commendations, even your history with Harknett… It’s all been erased. But, as requested… ” Alexios spins his monitor around so we can all see the screen. “Your art dealer cover is officially live, and the Soho penthouse is ready. Björn has already installed the cameras and security, and I’ve personally configured your hardware. As of tomorrow, you cannot return to HQ, and you absolutely cannot visit your family.”

Ugh. That hurts the most.

I know Alexios will be able to pass messages between us, but I hate going dark on my family for more than a few weeks. And since we are going after Elijah West, I have a sinking feeling this mission is going to take time…

A very long time.

“Thanks,” I say, and take a box with my new IDs, phone, computer, and other things I’ll need.

Logan slides a folded piece of paper across the table. “Also, I need you to pass this to Oliver tonight. It’s a list of suspected shell companies and names that we need him to check, verify if any of those names are working for his dad, and report back.”

“Got it.” I take the paper and put it inside the box. “So, now that we have all that new info settled and approved, the date tonight is at the Golden Dragon. It’s a Chinese restaurant frequently visited by Elijah’s people. We’ll be in VIP screen room five.” I turn to Alexios. “Make sure you hack the security feeds. Keep a camera pointed to the left of the main dining floor, exactly three tables away from the VIP corridor. That’s where Rafael’s guards always sit when Oliver goes there.”

“Consider it done.”

Law stands up, tosses a ring of keys across the table, and I catch them mid-air. “Keys to the new penthouse, mate. Head over there now, have a scrub, and get yourself sorted. You’ve got a date tonight.”

Yes, I do…

— ¤ —

The second the clock hits eight p.m., I pull up to the curb in my cherry-red Camaro. Oliver is already standing outside his Manhattan family home, and for a split second, my brain completely short-circuits.

Oliver walks out with messy hair, wearing tailored black slacks that cling to his hips, an emerald silk shirt unbuttoned just enough to make anyone with eyes want to see more, and his usual scowl.