5. HIS SEDUCTION.

(FLASHBACK: FEW DAYS AGO)

Angel.

I took a deep breath as I stepped onto the red carpet that led into the large hall. There was no sign of the paparazzi, just as I had expected.

Because although this was one of the biggest events to take place in New York City, the secrecy of the whole thing hinted at something far more complicated than a simple masked ball.

“Your pass, sir.”

I glanced up at the bouncer, already shifting into work mode as I took in his frame. You never know which information would be useful, so I always tried to gather as much as I could.

Passing him the elegant red card, the bouncer passed it to the booth at his back for confirmation. Where Cyrus had gotten the card from, I wouldn't know.

My mission here tonight was to infiltrate the Mafia—they were sure to be in attendance—and gather intel.

The doors were opened for me after a few seconds. Discreetly checking to make sure my mask was in place, I took in a deep breath and stepped in with a slight nod in the bouncer’s direction.

A glass of champagne soon appeared in my hand as I took it off the tray of a passing waiter. I hadn't intended to drink tonight, but I was feeling nervous—which was a bad omen.

I never got nervous, no matter the job at hand and definitely not when I'm working undercover. Not to toot my horn, but I was as confident and self-assured as they come, stepping seamlessly into whatever character I needed to be.

But tonight, I had a bad feeling about this ball. It was supposedly hosted by a senator's son to raise funds for orphanages, according to my research, but it was also a front for criminal dealings in private.

I knocked back the glass of champagne and gulped it down, needing liquid courage. And then, I traded it for another full glass of champagne.

This time around, I didn't drink it. Instead, I just held it as a way to blend in with the crowd. And then, I got to socializing—trading light banter here and there, portraying a lovable character while keeping an ear out for information.

Because even with the protection of my mask, the Mafia would be able to sniff me out as a federal agent if I just stood in a corner and observed. They had an eye for those sorts of things.

My phone buzzing in my pocket was what finally made me stop and lean against the wall. Pulling it out, I saw a message from Cyrus.

It read: Got in safe?

Raising my head to scan the crowd to make sure no one was fixated on me, I hurriedly sent an affirmative reply before pocketing my phone—not wanting to draw attention to myself.

My feet were killing me, so I decided to stay leaning against the wall for just a little more time before I went back to socializing.

Glancing at my watch, I sighed when I found out that only thirty minutes had passed. That meant I still had four more hours—give or take—to spend in this hellhole.

I groaned and swept my free hand through my brown wavy hair—a nervous habit—while the glass of champagne remained full in my other hand.

Just as I glanced around the ballroom, trying to figure whom to talk to next, my attention was drawn to a man making his way through the crowd of people on the dance floor.

What baffled me was that he wasn't forcing his way through—no, the crowd was parting for him. As if they knew who he was, even with his mask on.

I pushed off the wall as I took him in. He was dressed in a blue suit that brought out the color of his eyes. A silver mask was attached to his eyes, the same color as his tie and accessories.

I couldn't help the way my eyes trailed down his body, everything about him screamed luxury and for some reason I couldn't yet place, he looked eerily family.

I was so busy checking him out that I didn't realize that he was heading straight to me.

Taken unaware by his sudden stop in front of me, I took a step back, plastering myself against the wall.

It took me a moment to gather my wits and I cursed myself inwardly for showing fear. I'm a man who doesn't get intimidated by anyone, and although the man in front of me was a few inches taller, I blamed my nervousness on the bad feeling I had gotten when I entered the ballroom.

Right then, I composed myself and my survival instincts went haywire. Was there something wrong with my pass? Had my cover been blown?

“I couldn't help but notice that you were standing here alone,” he started, and I gulped as his deep voice sent shivers down my spine.

For a moment, I just stared at him. I was at loss for words and that was something that rarely happened.

His chuckle brought me out of my trance and I cleared my throat before speaking. The last thing I needed was for my voice to come out as a squeak when I spoke.

“I was just taking a break from socializing,” I replied to him, suspicion raising its ugly head now that I wasn't ogling him.

“I know. I couldn't help but be drawn to you since you entered the ballroom.” His pink lips parted with a small smile, revealing dimples on his cheeks.

I was a goner at that moment and I hadn't even seen the rest of his face. I forced myself to focus on the matter at hand, retracing my steps since I entered the ballroom.

If what this man was saying was true, I needed to make sure I hadn't done something that would jeopardize my mission.

Besides, why was he watching me? And why did he approach me now?

Before I could say anything though, he continued, “Forgive my brazenness, but I would like to ask you for a dance.”

A moment of silence for my heart that just stopped beating.

“I… uhm…” Somewhere along the line, I had forgotten how to construct full sentences.

The smirk on the stranger's face showed that he knew exactly what he was doing to me. He was dangerous and I felt myself being pulled under his allure.

Stretching out a hand with one behind his back, he asked again.

“Dear Stranger, may I have this dance?”

I shouldn't agree. I had a job to do, but when he said it like that—with that voice and that face—I realized that I could do my job and dance with this handsome stranger, at the same time.

*****