The Duke's Sins | ongoing

The Heat of My Moment

2~ the heat of my moment

I slid the satin off my hands, checking in at the hotel lobby. Catching my reflection on the surface of the front desk, I swiped a finger along the edge of my lips, fixing the smeared crimson of my lipstick.

I'd never done what I'd done tonight before. I was normally an artist of defence and observation.

A spy, not an assassin.

I chased leads, not victims.

Lately, I'd found myself crossing the boundaries of my profession—almost like my lipstick had crossed the boundaries of my lips.

The lift stood tall and proud as I waited for the doors to part, the chime calming the erratic racing of my heart. I blew out a slow breath, my limbs aching with guilt as I stepped calmly into the metal encasement, keeping my façade of normalcy in check with the orders I'd been given.

A grimace came over my face as I ran my fingers through my hair, the mass of the wig above my own hair weighing heavily on my scalp.

Dorian Golding had been responsible for the deaths of uncountable people. He had ruined more lives than I could count in a lifetime and yet the only thing I could fixate on was that my hands were now coloured in the rouge of murder.

A grunt sounded, a hand darting in through the closing doors. I swallowed, dragging my gloves back on, my anxiousness climbing up the steep steps of my spine. A familiar set of eyes came into view, the collective cool and warmth of his eyes clashing against mine.

"Floor?" I asked, struggling to keep my sights of the allure of his face. My breath hitched in my throat at our proximity, his height towering over mine.

"Three. You?" He leaned into the metallic wall as the lift drew shut, his hair messily pushed back.

I turned, "I thought that floor was reserved for the royals."

He grinned, letting out a short chuckle, "I'm a friend." I opened my mouth to respond but he overtook me, "I'm assuming I'll be seeing more of you at the following events."

I shook my head, "It's unlikely that I'll be around for much longer. I have a flight tomorrow morning."

"And there's no way I can persuade you otherwise?"

There was only one way he could persuade me to stay. And that was about as likely as the lift breaking down. "I'm afraid not."

"I guess the event didn't leave a good impression," he said, his sights trained on me.

I pressed my lips together, "I didn't expect it to become a crime scene is all."

"What?" He asked, amused. "Relax, nobody has died. In fact, if you'd stuck around longer, then you would have seen the spectacle that had been planned."

Now it was my turn to smirk, "Really? It was all a show?"

"Entertainment purposes only."

The man before me was either a maniac or higher on the social ladder than he let on.

"You said you knew everyone there personally. Even if there had been an attack tonight, you couldn't have afforded to let it on." I muttered under my breath.

He stepped closer, "Now, why don't you hear what I think?"

Danger radiated off his very skin. He was polite and well-mannered—and yet I couldn't help but notice the crawl over my skin, the shudder down my spine as his cologne invaded my senses.

This was what we called a Red Herring at work. The kind of people you were supposed to stay away from.

The kind I couldn't make myself get away from now, even if I tried.

"I'm assuming you were here as someone's date," his voice lowered, "because like I said, you weren't on the invitation list. Plus ones are prohibited, but someone must have seen you and been unable to resist." His gaze dropped, smoothing up my body, "My other theory is that like some others at the venue tonight, you pulled a few strings to gain access to an invitation."

I let an amused smile curve through my lips. I'd entertain him. Just for tonight.

"The first theory, I'm not so sure about."

His eyebrows shot up, "No?"

I tutted, smoothing down the ruffles of my dress, "I'm a lone wolf tonight."

I drew my lip between my teeth, my mind still spiralling out of control at the mentioning of the attack—specifically my lack of invitation. It hadn't come up directly, but even the topic sent a cold shiver down my spine.

He cursed under his breath.

My eyes shot up in recognition of his darkened eyes, his attention fixated on my lips.

"I have a proposal," his voice had turned husky, bordering dangerous depths.

I knew all too well what his proposal was. Even the rich had their desires—done in the shadows or broad daylight.

"Yes?" I neared him, his height towering over mine.

All at once, the lift took a jolt, lunging my body into his. The lights flickered, casting the sharp angles of his face in shadows.

His arms came up around me, "Are you okay?"

I nodded wordlessly as the lift took another jump. I gasped as we were hauled into the cold of the marbled floor, my back aching under the impact. He towered above me, his hands falling either side of my head.

The movements halted, the lights overhead settling into a dim glow. Standing, he pulled me to my feet with a strong tug.

I let out a breath as the lift chimed behind me, turning to escape the sudden heat in the air only to let out a gasp. The doors had opened, alright, just not to a floor. An abyss of darkness opened beneath me, wires dangling above my head. I stood paralysed.

His arm encircled my waist, pulling me harshly into his chest. I clung onto the fabric of his suit; my eyes were still glued to the everlasting pitch beneath the lift.

His eyebrows furrowed as he gazed down at me, "You're scared of heights, aren't you?"

I let go of his collar.

I'd tried as hard as my body would allow me to get over it. It was bad that I had a weakness.

It was even worse that he'd clocked on to it.

I swallowed, settling on the floor opposite him, "I-I'll be fine."

He seemed anything but convinced as he reached for the closest button, an empty dial echoing before he resorted to the emergency chain. The gaping doors screeched shut, my hitched breaths rushing out of my lungs. I felt small beads of sweat align onto my forehead, forcing a soft groan of complaint past my lips. I traced a quick finger down my temples, wary of any peeling glue.

Desperate for a way to divert my mind, I turned to him, "I never caught your name?"

"Let's keep it that way."

"I'm sorry?" I asked shakily.

"You need a distraction. I can give you one, but it's best if our names stay concealed."

•••

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Love,
Laila