“I know you aren’t what you seem, not at all. This isn’t about sex, is it?”
Jasmine inched closer to him. “Kiss me, and find out.”
“Is that what you said to the jerk downstairs?” Anger hummed in those words.
Jasmine shook her head. “You shouldn’t just watch…” And wasn’t that exactly what he was doing? Shutting himself away up there and watching the world below?
She pushed higher onto her toes.
But she didn’t need to press upward. He was already bending over her. His mouth pressed to hers.
This wasn’t anything like the kiss downstairs. His mouth was hard, but sensual. He explored her lips. Stroked her, and when she gasped against him, his tongue thrust into her mouth.
Wow. The guy definitely knew how to kiss. He’s better than I am. A whimper built in her throat. She’d thought—mistakenly, obviously—that she was skilled. Drake was in a whole new category. The make-you-weak-in-the-knees category. Her knees were already jiggling.
Her lips parted even more for him—because Jasmine wanted to make sure that she savored this experience. The man’s taste was incredible. Enough to make her feel a little drunk, and, as a rule, Jasmine never got drunk.
Her hands grasped his shoulders. Her short nails sank into his coat. Her breasts were aching, the nipples tight…just from his kiss.
He was controlled. Deliberate. He seemed to take his time caressing her, and she liked that. She liked far too much about him.
A pity, since she’d been sent to betray him.
His head lifted, and their lips broke apart. She sucked in a breath then, gasping for that last taste of him. A girl had to enjoy her moments when she could. Then she forced her eyes to open.
There was desire on the hard planes of his face. In the glint of his green eyes. He wanted her, as much as she wanted him. She could certainly feel that proof in the hard thrust of his cock against her.
She didn’t speak for a moment. Jasmine normally had plenty to say, but she found that she didn’t want to speak at all in that moment. Maybe because she didn’t want to lie to Drake.
Maybe because she wished that things were different.
“Unexpected…” His voice came out as a deep rumble.
Yes, he certainly was unexpected. Not an easy mark. Not a man to use and forget. More like a man who would haunt her long after she’d slipped from his life.
She was too conscious then of the watch around her wrist. Jasmine knew she should be monitoring the time. Oh, so carefully, especially because of that little detour she’d been forced to take to the parking garage.
But she didn’t move. She kept her body against his and kept pretending that she was just a woman who wanted the man before her.
“I like the way you taste,” Drake told her.
She could’ve given the same words right back to him, only “like” seemed to be far too tame of a word. She wanted to drink him in, to take more…to take everything that the guy had to give.
A faint vibration shook her wrist. Her alarm. Quickly, Jasmine pulled her left hand away from Drake, hoping that he hadn’t felt that slight movement of her watch. But he was still staring at her with the gaze that had gone hard and dark with lust.
She had a role to play. Jasmine was supposed to smile up at him then, give some flirtatious line, and keep him distracted for a few more minutes. She should have done that, but instead, she heard herself say, “I have a problem. I tend to want what I can never have.”
Holy hell. Those words had not been on her agenda.
A faint furrow appeared between his brows. “What is it that you want?”
Right then…you. Jasmine pulled in a deep breath. One more. She tried to steady her racing heartbeat. No luck there. “I’ll be gone in the morning.”
She didn’t even have a hotel room in Vegas. It wasn’t a pleasure trip. Just business.
She was there to destroy Drake.
The man had no idea just how many enemies he’d made. Or maybe he did know, and he didn’t care.
“We can have tonight,” she said, lifting her chin before she realized what she was doing. Jasmine could’ve cursed herself for that little “give.” She’d been warned about it before. She notched her chin when she was scared, and she was never, ever supposed to show fear—not real fear, anyway.
But Drake’s big, warm hand curled around her waist. “Damn straight,” he said, voice thick with his own hunger. “Let’s enjoy the night.”
His head lowered toward hers once more.
His lips were an inch away from hers. A breath of space. Jasmine wanted that space gone.
A shrill alarm cut through the room. Right on time.
Drake jerked away from her. “What in the hell?”
Jasmine let surprise flash across her face. “Wh-what’s happening?” She rather thought that the tremble in her voice was a lovely touch. “Is that a fire alarm?” Hurrying now, she rushed toward the tinted glass so that she could look down at the crowd. “No one is moving.” The alarm kept beeping—the sound was making her ears ache. That noise was worse than the music had been. “They have to hear it—”
“It’s not a fire alarm.” Now he was grim. “Those people down there don’t hear anything. It’s a private alarm—a signal just for me and my security team.”
She whirled toward him and gasped dramatically. “Are you being robbed?”
The man’s jaw had locked down as he checked his phone. Got the system linked in there, do you? “The warning alert is coming from the casino’s vault.” Um, his expression was deadly. “Someone’s tampering with it.” He rushed for the door.
Jasmine hurried after him. Now he had his phone to his ear, and the guy was barking orders like mad to whoever was on the other end of that line.
“No one screws with my business,” she heard him snap.
She gulped at that. He had the door open. She was just a step behind him.
Drake whirled around. The phone was still at his ear, but now he seemed to be focused on her. “Where are you going?”
“Uh, with you?” Wasn’t that obvious?
He shook his head. “Stay here. We’re not done. Not even close.”
A vault break-in hadn’t stopped the guy from wanting sex?
His eyes gleamed. “Not even close.” Then he shut the door and vanished.
Jasmine didn’t move. The alarm stopped after a few more tense seconds, and then she heard nothing. Nothing but her own drumming heartbeat, anyway.
How long would Drake be gone? And he truly expected her to just sit and wait for him like a good little girl?
Poor guy. He didn’t realize that she’d never been good. Not really.
Turning, she let her gaze sweep over the room. Leather couch. Bar. And…
His desk. His computer.
Because this place wasn’t just a private lounge. It was his inner sanctuary at the Arrow.
Jasmine sidled toward that desk. Her avid stare skimmed over its surface. Then she reached down and opened the top drawer. Business papers were inside. Spreadsheets. Profit projections.
The second drawer contained some mail. One big, brown package had already been opened. She lifted that package. Let the contents spill into her hands.
But the only thing inside that package was a picture. Black and white. Drake was there…so were two other men. Men she recognized because they were famous and infamous.
Trace Weston, the man behind Weston Securities. Weston Securities was the biggest private security firm in the U.S. From the rumors she’d heard, Weston had plans to make his firm the biggest in the world.
The other man she recognized was Noah York, a hotel magnate who’d made headlines because he and his fiancée had both barely escaped death a few months before.
Only he wasn’t engaged any longer. Noah York was married now. She was staring at his wedding picture. Noah was in his tux, and his bride beamed at his side. A woman stood with Trace, too—a delicate ballerina type. Well, that fit since Jasmine knew that Skye Sullivan-Weston was a ballerina.
In that picture, there was no woman on Drake’s arm. He had a faint smile on his lips, not the wide grin that Noah sported.
A note was attached to the pic.
Thanks for being my best man. –N.
Her hand trembled a bit.
She pushed the photo back into the package. Shut the desk drawers. Then Jasmine sat behind Drake’s desk. She slipped her equipment from the little case she’d strapped to her ankle.
Drake had been wrong about her. Well, partially wrong. She wasn’t a jewel thief. Her business was information.
She stared at the computer. Getting to his computer had been the trick. The rest…it would be easy.
Jasmine knew that she just had to work fast.
Her gaze strayed to that second drawer once more.
Thanks for being my best man. –N.
Straightening her shoulders, Jasmine went to work.
“Smoke bombs?” Drake demanded in disgust as he watched the pink flumes—seriously, pink—drift just outside of the vault door. No one had breached the casino’s vault. The guards there had panicked when they saw the smoke. They’d been the ones to pull that alarm and get the whole security team mobilized.
“Looks like they were on a timer,” Chad Thatcher, Drake’s chief of security said as he lifted one of the little, pink smoke bombs. It wasn’t smoking anymore. “Real clever device…looks handmade.” The guy’s tone was admiring.
Drake didn’t exactly feel admiration. “Someone tried to break into my vault.”
Chad’s lips twisted as he eyed the three nervous guards who’d pulled the alarm. “Not with this thing. This is a prank. Not a threat.” Chad would know threats. Drake had recruited the man because of his diverse background. Swat Team leader. Undercover police officer. Bomb squad technician.
Yeah, Chad knew his bombs. Very well.
Chad tossed the little device lightly in his hands. “Someone was messing with you guys,” he told the flushing guards.
Drake looked around the room. The other security team members were all starting to relax. The core team had been called in—his strongest men and women, but other guards were still positioned throughout the casino. Just not as many as he normally had at the Arrow. “A distraction,” Drake realized as his gaze turned back to Chad.
Chad’s fingers closed around the device. The smile left his face. “No one is stealing your money,” Chad said. “We’re right here. No one is getting past us.”
Drake whirled away from him. Sexy jewel thief. “That’s because she’s busy stealing something else.” Dammit, he should have known better. A pretty face could hide the best lies.
He ran for the elevator. “Get a lockdown in place!” Drake shouted over his shoulder. “The redhead I took upstairs earlier—Jasmine—she doesn’t leave the premises.”
There was no way that woman was going to escape from him.
Jasmine backed away from the computer. She knew time was running out and she had to make her exit.
The thick carpeting swallowed the sounds of her footsteps. She reached for the door handle.
Only it didn’t turn beneath her hand.
Jasmine jerked it harder. No give at all. He locked me in? She hadn’t exactly counted on that part. And she was sure looking at a maximum lock, too, not the easy pick-me-in-a-moment variety.
Hell.
Drake’s image flashed before her mind. Stay here. We’re not done. Not even close.
The only window in that place overlooked the club. It wasn’t like she could jump through it.
Her fingers skimmed over the lock once more. She’d wrangled the invitation up to this room because she knew that guards watched the entrance to this private lounge. The only way up to the area was Drake’s elevator and once up there, she would’ve had to contend with the lock. If she’d stopped to work her wiles on the lock in order to gain entrance, a guard would’ve seen her.
But the guards are distracted, and I’m not on the outside. So she should be able to finesse that lock, no problem.
It was an electronic lock after all. She’d always had a knack for working electronics.
A few seconds later, the lock slid open. “Piece of cake,” Jasmine murmured as she slid her little packet of tools back into place on her ankle once more. Her fingers slipped around the door knob. The door opened with a soft click.
Jasmine grinned. She pulled open the door—and found herself staring right up into a pair of glinting green eyes. Very, very, angry green eyes.
“Going somewhere?” Drake drawled. Ah, there it was. The hint of the south, Mississippi if she wasn’t mistaken, rolled beneath those two words.
Her heartbeat sounded like a drum in her ears. “I was coming to find you.”
He smiled at her. She did not like that smile. Goosebumps rose onto her arms.
He stepped forward.
Jasmine fell back.
“There’s something you should know about me,” Drake said as he took another stalking step toward her.
Jasmine found herself retreating again even as her chin notched up.
Stupid move. She had to learn how to control that chin move.
He shut the door behind him. “I don’t like liars, Jasmine.”
I am so screwed. “Neither do I.”
“I fucking hate betrayal.”
Oh, crap.
His hands lifted. His hold was hard and tight as he grasped her shoulders and pulled her up against him. “Who the hell are you?”
“You’re scaring me.” Total truth there. A lot of Drake’s past had been shrouded in secrecy, and when she started searching online in order to learn more about him, she’d come across some strong government security measures. She could’ve hacked past the red tape, of course, but she hadn’t wanted to raise too many flags with Uncle Sam—or anyone else who might have been watching.
