Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
She’s gone within seconds, and I’m left staring after her.
What the fuck just happened?
There’s another assassin here, and not only is she working my job, she took my fucking kill, and that shit just doesn’t happen. Sure, it happens to rookies who don’t know what the fuck they’re doing, but it doesn’t happen to me. I can’t blame her, though. She took her opening, and it was a clean kill. Next to perfect. I have to give credit where credit is due; she was incredible, while also somewhat wild. Would I have risked being noticed speeding through town dressed in leather on a jet-black motorcycle? No, but I like her balls.
Disappointment floods me, and I quickly pack up, not wanting to be here any longer than necessary. Within the span of thirty seconds, I’m back in my rental, racing out of town, my gaze constantly searching the streets for that black motorcycle.
Who the fuck was that, and why did she have access to my contract?
The whole drive back to the hotel in Barcelona fucks with my head. I don’t like being bested, and I also don’t like missing out on a five-million-dollar contract, especially when I was only seconds from taking the hit. If I’d just gotten there a moment earlier, it would have been mine.
Perhaps I was off my game. Maybe my night with Kiara has been clouding my judgment. Fuck, it’s no secret that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way her body moved as she rode me or the sweet taste between her thighs.
Shit. Either way, I fucked up. I missed my hit, and that doesn’t sit well with me.
Arriving back at the hotel almost three hours after I originally left, I park the rental in the underground parking garage, and before I know it, I’m back on the elevator, heading up to the eighteenth floor. There are six other people crammed in here with me, and despite their presence, I can’t help the wide smile that cracks across my face, remembering the remnants of the red lace dress on the floor or the smeared handprints on the dark mirrored walls.
Reaching the eighteenth floor, I swipe my passkey against the door and push into the executive suite to find the bed empty, and a heavy disappointment flutters through my chest, until I see the note that I’d left her, sitting on the bedside table.
The words I had written are now crossed out and replaced with new ones that have that disappointment turning into something entirely different, something raw that fills me with the kind of hope I’ve never felt before.
Went down to the beach for strawberry daiquiris.
Also, fuck you.
A laugh cracks from the back of my throat, and I find myself scooping up the note and folding it into a little square. Before I even understand what I’m doing, I slide it into my wallet, not wanting to risk housekeeping throwing it away.
All thoughts of leather-clad assassins on motorcycles are forgotten, and I lose the business attire before dressing for the beach. Then, before I know it, I’m standing under the blazing summer sun, my feet in the hot sand as I take in the woman who has made it her life’s mission to fuck with me in nothing but a gold string bikini with a strawberry daiquiri resting in her hand.
CHAPTER 11
KIARA
Fuck, that was such a rush.
I lie back on the sunlounger in the private cabana with Diego, the bar attendant, refilling my strawberry daiquiri, and all I can think about is how good that hit was. I’d timed it perfectly. Right down to checking Raiden’s schedule to figure out what time he was due to leave for his meetings.
The second he slipped out, I was gone right after him, the key to the sleek black Ducati hidden in my suit. Raiden’s note said he should be gone for a few hours, and I was able to get all the way out to Tossa de Mar, make the kill, and get back to the beach all before he even realized I was gone.
The extra sleep would have been nice, but now that the job is done and there’s nothing but these strawberry daiquiris, the beach, and Raiden’s skilled cock keeping me in Barcelona, I’ll probably be heading home soon. I’ll be able to sleep on the flight, and then I’ll crash again once I get home, just because I can. The only problem is, Raiden will be there, and I don’t know what to do about that.
Was it a mistake getting involved with him? Absolutely. But was it worth it? Hell to the mother fucking yes. When in Rome, right? That’s the only excuse I can possibly come up with to justify sleeping with the bane of my existence.
He could offer me a good time, and even though I was here on business, I find what I do fun, so technically, one could argue that despite doing a job, I was also here for pleasure, which basically means I’m on vacation. And when a girl is on vacation, why shouldn’t she be railed?