Page 5 of Palace of Betrayal

“I love sports, particularly rock climbing and deep-sea diving.” His voice was husky, deep, and he coughed lightly to clear it.

Bebe ran her finger around the rim of the glass as if she was totally unaware of the seductive picture she made. “You certainly have a beautiful canvas available to you for both here. Your country is stunning.”

Pride filled León’s chest at the compliment he knew was genuine. “Thank you. Have you visited before?”

“Many years ago, but it was brief, and I never got a chance to explore.”

“Are you here for long? I’d be delighted to show you my country.”

“As long as I need to be, and that would be lovely. Thank you, León.”

She took a sip of her drink, the red of her lips leaving a smudge on the glass and his body responded to the sensual visual. He knew her words were a reminder, whether intended or not, that this was a job, but he wasn’t sure who it was for—him or her.

León noticed a group of people he knew come up behind him, his instincts as sharp as ever from years in the military. Hearing the alcohol-fuelled voices through the music playing, he almost groaned at the sudden interruption, but it was the perfect chance for him to put on a show for their cover.

“Leo, old boy.”

Atticus, with whom he’d gone to school and later college, was an old friend. But he was like Alain, obsessed with stature and social status and never satisfied with what he had in life. He’d never had a real job, living off his trust fund and León wondered how he could go through life with so little purpose.

Twisting in his seat, he kept Bebe in his sights as he addressed his friend. “Atticus.”

The man was tall with blond hair and blue eyes and was always in the gym when he wasn’t partying. So, it wasn’t a surprise for Leo to see his ex-girlfriend Chelsea hanging off his arm, her irritated pout aimed at Bebe. It was laughable. As he looked between the two women, he realised he couldn’t compare them. Bebe was something Chelsea would never be—a natural beauty with an aura about her that screamed class. Chelsea might be rich because of her family’s money but she was spoiled and pampered with no thoughts of her own. Even knowing Bebe for such a short time, he guessed she probably had an opinion on everything.

“And who’s this little doll?”

León gritted his teeth at the subtle way Atticus reduced Bebe from a flesh and blood person to a piece of meat. As if sensing his sudden mood change, Bebe laid her hand on his arm. Moving his head to look at her, he saw the warning not to react in her expression as if they’d known each other for years not minutes.

Consciously relaxing his jaw, he winked at her and directed his attention to Atticus, feeling the loss as her hand left his arm. “This is Bebe, and we were about to dance. So if you’ll excuse us, Atticus, Chelsea.”

He nodded at them and slid from his stool, turning to take Bebe’s hand, and leading her to the crowded dance floor.

Taking Bebe in his arms, he drew her close until her body touched his own and looked into her eyes. They fit like they’d been doing this dance for years, her soft curves and his hard muscle. He was dying to talk to her about the mission, to find out more of who she really was but they were too close to other people. He couldn’t risk an ill-advised comment getting back to whoever was using his family name and gems though.

“What brings you to Soflye, Bebe?”

Her lips curved into a subtle smile that made his cock twitch in his pants, causing him to grind his teeth as her body brushed against his.

“Work.”

“And what is it you do?” León hoped the conversation would help him to ignore the chemistry between them.

“I’m a buyer for a well-known perfume brand and I know you have the best orchids in the world here.”

Her answer was both intriguing and drew him to respond naturally. “Did you know my surname is Cataleya?”

“I didn’t know that.”

León nodded. “Yes, and the Cataleya Orchid is the most fragrant of them all. Did you also know the name orchid comes from the Greek ‘órkhis’, which literally means ‘testicle’, thanks to the shape of the root?”

Bebe’s eyebrows rose, her lips twitching with delight. He could tell it was a genuine reaction to his words before she chuckled, the lyrical sound making her breasts brush against his chest.

“I know, not exactly romantic. It comes from the Greek myth of Orchis. The legend goes, Orchis, the son of a satyr and a nymph, stumbled upon a festival of Dionysus in a forest. As tended to happen at ‘bacchanales’, he drank too much and became over-amorous towards a priestess. The Bacchanalians tore him apart for the slight. His father prayed for Orchis to be restored, but instead, the gods transformed him into the flower we know today as the orchid.”

“Wow. That’s kind of a harsh punishment for a dalliance with a priestess. Unless his attention was unwanted, then it serves him right.”

León couldn’t take his eyes off this woman as she spoke, her voice husky and seductive with a slight accent he couldn’t quite place but guessed might be from Pakistan. He found himself fascinated by her. He wanted to know more, like how and why she got into this line of work. Nobody grew up wanting to be a mercenary or assassin, and certainly not one as beautiful and intelligent as the woman in his arms.

Without conscious thought, he found himself bending toward her, his nose tickled by the soft strands of her hair. Her scent once again surrounded him as she moved, angling her head towards him, so their faces were a breath apart.