“I knew they were real,” he said, his voice rough. With his hands completely jammed inside of my dress, he took both of my breasts in full handfuls before squeezing in a way that wasn’t exactly gentle.

I removed myself a little bit more from my body and forced a soft moan to fall from my lips.

“I can’t remember the last time I had my hands on a real set of tits.” His thumb and finger captured my nipples and rolled them so forcefully I almost faltered with my expression of ecstasy. Daniel liked it rough. I could tailor my final seduction the next night accordingly. “Oh, the fun I’m going to have with you tonight,” he groaned.

When he shifted closer, I felt his erection hard against my shoulder. I guessed what he was hoping for next, but he could hope his way into a coma. He wasn’t getting anything more from me tonight.

“Oh, the fun you can have with me tomorrow night.” I bit my lip to keep from wincing when he flicked my nipple.

“That, too,” he said, lowering his mouth to my neck.

I shook my head. “As in only tomorrow night.” His mouth sucked at my neck as if he was trying to consume me. That would definitely leave some hickeys. Probably all part of his sick, staking-a-claim M.O. “I don’t want to be fucked on the roof of the building where you work. My high school boyfriend tried that, and it didn’t turn out so well for him.”

Daniel’s mouth and hands slowed, but they didn’t stop. Teenage Daniel hadn’t taken no for an answer, and he’d evolved into a man who still hadn’t learned the concept.

“Tell you what,” I said, winding my arm around his neck. “You rent me the South Beach Suite at The Presidential tomorrow night and have a bottle of Cristal on ice, and I promise to make you feel so good, you’ll be ruined for all other women.” I was quiet after that, hoping he’d chase the carrot and give my sore nipples and neck a break. Employing physical force to get the Target to stop was less than ideal. Had a way of ruining the romance I’d simulated.

“I’m already ruined for all other women,” he whispered against my neck, tasting it one last time.

“Still struck monogamous?” I twisted in my seat and looked up at him. All the physical signs were there. All the responses I needed to know he was, for all intents and purposes, my slave. If I told him to get down on his knees and kiss my feet, I knew he’d do it.

He lifted an eyebrow in answer.

I smiled and stood up because my mouth was too close to his zipper, and Daniel wasn’t ignorant of that nearness. “Of course you are,” I said. Moving closer, I pressed a lingering kiss into the slope of his jaw before grabbing my clutch and heading for the door.

“We haven’t even finished the first course yet,” he said after me.

Oh, we’ve definitely finished the first course.

“I’m more of a main course kind of girl,” I called back over my shoulder. “I’ve never been into the whole gradual progression thing.”

Daniel’s chuckle rumbled low in his chest. “You’re leaving? You’re really going to leave me like this?”

A person could be left like this in about a million ways, but if Daniel Silva was saying those words, there was only one way.

“Until tomorrow night.”

“There is a way you could help me out, you know.” Suggestion dripped from his voice. “A way that wouldn’t technically qualify as me fucking you on the roof.”

Optimistic, relentless bastard.

“Sorry,” I said with a wave of my hand, “I never give head before I get it.”

There was a few moments’ pause while that settled in.

“You are the most intriguing creature I’ve come across,” Daniel replied as I swung the door open.

“I know,” I said to myself as I headed down the stairs.

DANIEL SILVA WAS getting nailed tonight.

In every way a man could. I’d done my job and done it well. Of course it would figure that when I’d finally landed in a city I could spend the rest of my life in, I moved the Target through the stages of seduction in next to record time. When the Target was a douchebag to Daniel’s degree, I only took my time getting him into bed only out of respect for the wife. I could have been in his bed the night I’d met him, but timing was everything in my career. Just as taking too long was a detriment to wrapping the case up with a big bow, so was taking too little. Just under one week was a little fast, but still within the acceptable realm.

I’d texted G last night letting her know tonight was the night, and I’d texted Mrs. Silva the address, time, and suite of where Mr. Silva could be, literally, caught with his pants down. As long as she didn’t drop the ball. Considering all of the intricate pieces to the game, making sure a P.I. or detective had a camera ready at a certain time was a preschool task. I’d never had a Client fail me, and if that day ever came, there’d be hell to pay. From G and me.

With most jobs, I’d take care selecting just the right lingerie. If the Target had suddenly grown a conscious, the lace, or the bustier, or whatever his preference in the unmentionables department was would send him over the unsure edge. Daniel Silva, though, wasn’t in danger of growing a conscious. I could have showed up in a jumpsuit, and he would have been hard before I stepped inside the suite.

Since a particular shade or style of lingerie wasn’t an issue, I went with none at all. Other than the red lace dress, that was short, tight, and off-the-shoulders, I wore nothing else. Well, I had some heels on, too. Having less to take off meant less actual time spent with Daniel Silva.

I knew having sex with a man I detested was a deplorable concept. I also knew if the Eves were ever made public, the scrutiny would be instant and overwhelming. But those who would turn their judgey little fingers our way wouldn’t be the ones who knew how it felt to have your entire world crumble around you because of one man. They wouldn’t know how it felt to invest your time and your dreams in one person only to discover they were fucking someone else behind your back. They wouldn’t know the utter devastation of betrayal and the loss of self that ensued. They wouldn’t know how our Clients felt knowing that freedom meant financial and social ruin. They wouldn’t understand any of it.

And that was all right. Because I did.

I knew how it felt to have my whole life ruined because I’d been stupid enough to fall in love.

I knew. And I’d never forget.

As I punched the gas behind the wheel of the 640, I knew the Miami scene wasn’t the only thing I’d miss. I was always assigned a sweet car, but this one was especially sweet. As much as I loved the car though, it wasn’t worth spending another day with Daniel.

As I pulled up to the valet outside of The Presidential Hotel, I checked to make sure I was as removed from myself as possible. I needed to be sharp enough I didn’t make a slip, but I had to remove myself enough that my actions wouldn’t permanently taint my soul. I called it conscious removal, and to date, it hadn’t done me wrong.

I barely noticed the lobby as I whisked through it because the lobby wasn’t my destination. The South Beach Suite was. I’d chosen that suite instead of the presidential suite because it didn’t require a special access key to get to the floor, which the Contact wouldn’t have been able to get to. I always chose an accessible place that would provide the fewest number of road blocks. It wasn’t my job to make the Contact’s job easier, but it was my job to close the Errand, and I didn’t want to give anyone an excuse for not holding up their end of the bargain.

Once I was inside of the elevator and going up, I checked my reflection in the gold doors. I’d lined and painted my lips red like I did on every Sheet night. Men were fixated on women’s mouths, and when it was bright and hard to miss, the way mine was, they automatically imagined what it would look like wrapped around a certain part of their anatomy.