Jackie Ashenden - Dirty Devil

I smiled and this time I didn’t bother making it pleasant. ‘Try again.’

SUGAR. HE’D CALLED me Sugar . As if that wasn’t patronising at all.

Him calling you Sugar is the least of your problems right now.

Controlling my instinctive bristle, I tried to slow the fight-or-flight adrenaline rush that had burst through my veins the minute I’d heard his deep voice tell me that he could see me as I hid under his desk.

I took a silent breath to get control of the anger and spike of fear, forcing my emotions down the way Mr Chen had taught me.

I’d never been caught, not once in all the years I’d been working with Mr Chen, and it was a point of pride. My ability to slip into a place unnoticed and slip out again, shadowy as a ghost, was what made me so good at what I did.

Getting caught so pathetically easily was a rookie mistake and I should be ashamed of myself. I just hadn’t expected him to come in here. I’d thought he’d stay out on the terrace, entertaining his glorious public.

An error of judgment, clearly. I needed to be on my guard.

‘Try again?’ I repeated, attempting to sound like a confused member of staff who didn’t realise what she’d done wrong. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

He was standing not far away, his back to the windows and the magnificent view out over Hong Kong’s financial district, neon outlining his tall, broad silhouette to perfection.

Damn him. Why had he come in here? I’d only just started to look for the safe before I’d heard the sounds of someone coming into the room. There hadn’t been time for me to find somewhere decent to hide or check if there was another exit. The only place I’d been able to see had been under his desk, so that was where I’d bolted.

Not at all what I’d planned.

I struggled to pull myself together. Getting caught would put Mr Chen’s whole business at risk, not to mention destroying the reputation for complete discretion he’d built over the years, and it would be all my fault. Which meant I had to fix it and fast.

‘I think you do.’ Blackwood tilted his head towards the light, neon sliding over his perfect features. ‘And don’t give me any more of that trying to find the kitchen bullshit.’

Damn. Damn. Damn.

There was no trace of his charming smile now, only the hard gleam in his eyes. With the silver ring in his eyebrow and the tantalising glimpse of his tattoos from beneath his black shirt, he looked...dangerous as hell.

And sexier than the devil himself.

Even more irritated at myself, I shoved away that particular thought and reached into the pocket of my uniform, bringing out the staff ID I’d forged and waving it in the air. ‘But I’m with the company. Check my ID.’

He didn’t even look at it. ‘I vet all the staff who come to these parties personally and you’re not on the staff list.’

Shit. I hadn’t known he was so hands-on with his ridiculous parties. I’d imagined he’d hire some kind of party planner.

‘Who are you?’ His voice had lost the lazy warmth I’d heard out on the terrace while he’d been telling his story. Now it had an edge creeping into it. ‘You’re not a reporter, not given how you managed to pick my lock. How did you do that, by the way?’

Quickly, I sorted through my options. I could brazen it out and insist on being with the company, but since he personally vetted his staff that probably wouldn’t work. And, given the lock situation, as he’d already said, I couldn’t pretend to be a reporter. Not when the lock had been heavy duty and somewhat difficult to open even for a person of my skills.

The only option I had left was...stalker fan desperate to catch a glimpse of her idol. Did billionaires have stalker fans? I guess there was only one way to find out.

I let out a breath, as if I was disappointed. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘You win. I’m not actually with the catering company. But I’m not a reporter either.’

The gleam in his silver eyes was like a blade and something twisted deep inside me. This man was a different beast from the charming playboy out on the terrace. Honed and sharp as a dagger, and just as lethal.

It seemed at odds with the faint hint of his expensive, subtle cologne I could scent in the air, all warm spice and sunshine.

My heartbeat tripled, my breath catching. And it wasn’t with fear.

There was something incredibly exciting about this—about him. About how different he was right now from the man I’d seen on the terrace, and I wasn’t sure why I liked that. I just did.

Maybe it was the danger factor. It had been a while since I’d had a job quite as challenging as this one was turning out to be. Still, I couldn’t afford to get too carried away. If I didn’t get it together he’d go straight to the police and there would go Mr Chen’s business. The business I’d promised him I’d take care of before he died.

‘I’m waiting, Sugar.’ Blackwood didn’t sound impatient and yet that edge was sharpening in the air around him by the second.

I twisted my hands in front of me, trying to project nervousness, and to be honest I didn’t have to try all that hard.

‘Okay, so this is really embarrassing.’ I shifted on my feet. ‘I’m here because I... I wanted to see you.’

He lifted his pierced brow, the ring in it glinting. ‘See me?’

Maybe billionaires didn’t have stalker fans. Surely he would know what I was talking about?

‘Yeah.’ I cleared my throat, pushing on regardless. ‘I...just think you’re so amazing. I read everything about you, see all the interviews you’ve given. I mean, that interview you gave for Vanity Fair was just...’ I injected as much breathlessness into my voice as I could, which for some reason didn’t seem difficult. ‘Anyway, my cousin was sick of hearing about it. She bet me a hundred bucks I couldn’t get into your party and so I... Well...’ I gave a nervous laugh and waved towards the door.

His expression didn’t change, his silver gaze sliding over me, the pressure cool as metal on my skin. ‘Is that a fact? And I suppose you just happened to be an excellent forger, not to mention an expert in breaking and entering?’

Oh, crap.

He’s called you. Time for plan B.

That was plan B. I didn’t have any other plans. Not when I hadn’t expected to get caught.

Fear twisted inside me, but I fought it as I sorted through more options, forcing myself not to panic.

Hadn’t Mr Chen always said to use anything and everything to your advantage when it came to difficult situations? Because there was one option I hadn’t considered yet: using my femininity. Blackwood was, after all, a playboy who’d apparently never met a woman he didn’t want to take to bed. And I’d done it before, with the security guy and the whole undoing the top button routine, and it had worked.

Yes, but he’s not your standard security guy. He’s a connoisseur and you’re not exactly Scarlett Johansson.

This was sadly true. But I didn’t have a choice. It was either try it or it was a jail cell for me.

So I took a couple of slow steps towards him, allowing my hips to sway, ‘Does it matter?’ Much to my annoyance, I didn’t have to fake the husky sound in my voice as much as I’d thought I would. ‘I’m an expert in other things too. Would you like to know what they are?’

He didn’t move, watching me come closer. ‘I feel certain you’re about to tell me.’

I stopped inches away from him, my heart hammering in my chest. He was so very tall, that big, muscular body oh, so close. The black cotton of his shirt gave a hint at the hard musculature of his chest and I found my attention wandering, staring at him. He’d left the top couple of buttons undone, giving me a close-up glimpse of those tattoos, the colours bright reds, golds and blues.