Page 62 of Targeted By Desire

“What happened after you did?”

“I’m not going to lie, we engaged in a secret relationship for some time. She didn’t want to tell her father, and I didn’t want to tell my handler. It was the best six months of my life.” He paused, his smile falling. “Eventually, the perfect opportunity presented itself, and I knew the job needed to come to an end. I knew I couldn’t keep her alive.”

My brows came together. “So you killed her?”

He nodded. “Hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“But weren’t there other options? Couldn’t you have taken her away with you? Made it seem like she died alongside her family?”

“I could’ve,” he said with a shrug. “But she was a weakness I couldn’t afford to have at the time. And neither is the woman you’ve been dancing around.” He leaned forward. “If you really need to, get the “what ifs” out of your system. Entertain whatever you think is going on between the two of you for one night. Maybe two if you really need to get her out of your system. Then, do what you’ve been trained to. That’s an order. Understand?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, struggling to keep my composure under the weight his demand placed on my chest. “I understand.”

THE AGENT

I shouldn’t have come.

I should’ve leaned on my injury one last time as an excuse to sit out of the perfect family portrait my mother and her husband often painted. It hung most prominently at formal events like the one we were attending tonight, with gilded chandeliers, polished floors and guests draped in their finest gowns and suits.

The ballroom was teeming with patrons wearing extravagant masks, trimmed with gold or silver and sparkling with color coordinated jewels. Even the servers floating around the room, carrying trays of golden champagne and hors d'oeuvres, wore simple black masks to match their plain white button ups and slacks.

Tonight, everyone’s identity was a mystery.

In theory, anyway.

People did little to stay behind their masks, lifting it every chance they got to show their makeup or their fresh botox. Others flat out said who they were, grinning as though they’d told a most coveted secret.

By the first hour, I was bored of the charade.

With all eyes on Isabelle or my mother, it was easy to slip away from my family. Not one eye caught the movement as I took a few steps back and shuffled away from the mingling group.

Twenty minutes later and I’m still standing in this corner sipping on champagne and watching the crowds, unnoticed and forgotten. The fact would’ve angered the younger version of myself, maybe even driven her to make a scene in search for the attention she was severely lacking. The woman I am now relished in the quiet and peace within her solitary bubble.

I’ve been living in it a little more lately.

Over the past two weeks, I’ve been waking up on the couch where I’d fallen asleep. The mess from my late night snack still lay on the coffee table. And there were no lapses of missing time on my security cameras.

After the last incident, I expected his presence to feel heavier. Not completely vanish.

His absence shouldn’t have worried me. Yet, every night I found myself hopeful to wake up in my bed and disappointed in the morning when I wasn’t.

I wouldn’t say I missed him, but I was curious about where he’s gone.

“Hey, Simon,” Justin’s voice yanked me out of my thoughts.

Blinking, I glanced at the man standing beside me. The green bow on his tuxedo matched his mask, the color meshing well against his light brown skin. “Hi.”

“I, um…I tried calling. I, uh…I heard you were in the hospital. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” I took another sip of my drink. “Where’s your date?”

“Over there.” He jutted his chin across the room to where Chelsea stood with her usual clique, her ears on the conversation but her eyes on us. “I just came over to check on you.” His eyes ran down the length of my dress, lingering at every curve. “You know we never got the chance to talk the other night. Maybe, if you’ve got a free moment tonight, we could try again.”

I opened my mouth, prepared to let him down gently, when an arm slithered around my waist. My head whipped around to snap at whoever was touching me, but a deep voice stopped me from doing so.

“I’m sorry, babe,” he said casually. “I ran into Mr. Johannson and he started talking my ear off.”

I couldn’t help but stare at the clean, sleek tuxedo sheltering his tall frame, and black mask with silver curved trimming covering the entirety of his face. This man sure knew how to blend into a role. But damn, he shouldn’t look this good in this one.