Enrico scoffed, but he didn’t pull his forearm away. He took a large sip of whiskey from his glass. “You must imagine that gets old, Aimee,” he said. “Like anything else. My life in London was enviable, to some people. I was earning a silly amount. I was working with some of the most important and intelligent people across the world. And, of course, you can imagine the women of London.” He looked at her intensely, and Aimee swallowed in the heat of the moment, nervous. “But I tired of that life, and I left. And now, I’m here, searching for new ways to occupy my time, every second.”
“Our little life beneath the sun isn’t enough for you?” Aimee joked. “You’re looking for greener pastures yet again?”
“Or maybe just something a little more meaningful,” Enrico admitted. He snapped his fingers upward, calling a tray of champagne to their table. They accepted two new glasses, clinking them together once more.
Aimee had only just poured the rest of her whiskey down her burning throat. Sugar and drink muddled her mind. She attempted to focus herself back on her mission, to pull her attention away from her mind-bending attraction to this man. She was a spy, a Bond girl, with enough wit and zealous energy to plunge through the remainder of that night—as long as she held her liquor, and kept her eyes on the prize.
After sipping the rest of their champagne, Enrico offered Aimee his arm and lead her to the center of the ballroom. The violins swelled up, launching into a grand waltz, one Aimee immediately recognized from her long hours of ballroom class. She snickered, biting her lip softly, before giving Enrico a nervous grin.
“What is it?” Enrico asked her, tilting his head. A dark curl swept over his forehead, and Aimee lifted her fingers to catch it. She shook her head, bashful. “I haven’t heard this song in nearly ten years. It takes me back, is all.”
“Then let’s break it in, then, shall we?” Enrico said, giving her that dazzling, charming smile yet again.
Aimee felt she would explode with tension, with pleasure, with excitement. She slipped her fingers through his, and Enrico placed his other hand on the small of her back, low down enough to be teasing while still appearing gentlemanly and proper to the other guests.
They thrust their bodies into the movement, twirling, spinning gracefully around the other dancers, feeling as if they were the only people in the crowd. As they danced, their eyes connected, and Aimee felt herself blush. Something within her begged for this night not to end, so she wouldn’t have to deceive this man. She yearned to spend countless shimmering evenings with him. She yearned to dig beneath his playboy façade and discover the truth of his heart; she sensed a goodness within him.
But the clock soon ticked toward one in the morning. Aimee excused herself for the bathroom where she touched up her lipstick and powder, ensuring she looked immaculate in order for her plan to continue without a hitch. Although she looked perfect, internally she heaved with fear.
You have to pull yourself together, she thought to herself. Do you really want to wind up back in Seattle? Do you really want to give up? She breathed heavily, ripping passion from her heart. She had to be cold, calculating—to exist outside the boundaries of pleasure and lust.
After several moments of regrouping, Aimee walked confidently back toward the ballroom, lifting her chin high. She reached Enrico and wrapped her arm around his back, batting her eyelashes. She kissed him passionately, licking his top lip with the tip of her tongue. She relaxed a little, sensing that the actress within her had taken over.
Enrico broke the kiss, his eyes bordering on suspicious. “You seem very eager,” he said, laughing slightly.
“Why don’t we get out of here?” Aimee whispered, tilting her shoulder forward, allowing him a better look at her cleavage. “The night’s coming to a close, anyway.” Around them, the ballroom had begun to clear—propelling its well-dressed billionaires and millionaires to the countless after-parties across the city.
Enrico frowned. “I promised a friend I’d stop by for a drink. You’re certainly welcome to come…” he began, eyeing her with slight wariness.
Aimee pushed her lower lip from her mouth, pouting. She slipped her fingers around the line of his tuxedo jacket, pulling him closer to her. He was slightly tipsy, and not immune to her body language. “Come on, Enrico. Don’t you want to finish what we started last week?” She closed her eyes and lifted her lips to his once more. Her stomach lurched with pleasure.
But again, Enrico broke the kiss, backing away. His body language alarmed Aimee; it was all angles. He stepped back from her, and Aimee tensed up, frightened.
“Tell me something,” Enrico said, his eyes tracing her face. “Why are you so eager this time around? I mean, last time, it was on. We both wanted it. It was definitely heading that way. And you backed out. Why the change of heart?” He lifted his left eyebrow high, tilting his head. “Which one of you is the real Aimee?”
Aimee’s mind raced with fear. “God, Enrico,” she whispered, easing her hands over his chest. She stretched her fingers skyward, wrapping them around his neck. “Last time, when I got home, I sat in my little apartment just aching for you, knowing I’d made one of the worst mistakes a girl could make.” Her words sounded true, seductive. “You’d offered me one of the biggest adventures of my life, and I’d rejected it. I was out of my mind. Wasn’t I?”
Enrico’s shoulders relaxed. He laughed, his chest rising and falling. He placed his hand around Aimee’s slim fingers, lifting her left hand to his lips and kissing it lightly. Aimee sensed that Enrico was swiftly abandoning all thoughts of his friend’s party. She sensed that he craved her, that he wouldn’t allow anything to obstruct their time together. He couldn’t refuse her feigned charm.
“All right,” Enrico said, his voice warm. “Let’s get out of here.”
He lifted her other hand to his lips and kissed it for good measure, causing Aimee’s entire body to quiver with desire. She took a deep breath, looking at him expectantly, her big eyes blinking slowly.
“I’ll call my driver. He should be around the corner. And then, we can get this show on the road, as you Americans say.”
Aimee tipped her head back, overcome with joy and relief. For a moment, as Enrico spoke, she allowed herself to forget that she was on a mission to destroy him. He kissed her back, this time deeply, passionately, and every cell in her body seemed to explode with expectation.
EIGHT
As the orchestra swept into a dramatic final tune, the violins singing out into the night, Enrico grasped Aimee’s hand and pulled her toward the exit. Aimee felt herself dissolve in giggles as she followed him with light footfalls into the night.
They exited the ancient, stone building, and Aimee stretched her neck back, looking at the twinkling stars that peppered the night sky. The moon was a large, ivory-colored orb that threw dark shadows across the sidewalk as Aimee and Enrico rushed toward his limousine.