A DEAD WOMAN DANCING

Barbara’s first instinct, was to feign ignorance.

“What are you talking about?” Even through her thick mask, her perfect act of confused lady in distress was spot on, very believable in fact. If only he believed it.

But alas, he didn’t.

If anything, her reaction placed an amused smirk on his lips.

“Ah, ignorance... right.” He teased her, but she shook her head, surprisingly staying in character.

“I don’t know what, or who, you’re talking about.”

“Clearly, you’re in denial. Alright, I’ll bite.” He smirked, pulling her smack against him, the act so sudden and so erotic that it stole a gasp out of her.

Knight didn’t allow her to catch that breath. He quickly turned her around, luring her to the dance floor, her torn dress already forgotten by the two of them.

“Wh… what are you doing?” She tried to protest when she recovered, “One, I don’t know who you are, two, I don’t dance, like ever.”

Knight’s lips quirked, an almost smile gracing his lips, “Liar.” He said softly.

“Look, I’m not letting you go. But who knows, maybe if you humor me, just this once…” he shrugged lazily. “We can part ways after that. One dance. That’s all I ask.”

Barbie should have said no.

Instantly.

Outrightly.

Her attraction and reminiscing over him and that one night they shared was dangerous already as it stood, and yet… with his lips tugged in that eager way, she found herself unable to say no to him.

Despite the warning bells blaring in her head, something inside her snapped.

Perhaps, it had something to do with the way he said it… that low, deep growl, filled with that quiet, bone-deep certainty, almost as if he knew every secret she’d tried to bury under the layers of mauve satin and her fake accent.

Or maybe it was just the sheer exhaustion of pretending she was unshakable, the silent admission in the back of her mind that she really did not want to kill this man that Uncle Kenneth had targeted.

Either way, her hand moved of its own accord, her fingers disappearing into his.

The crowd parted as he led her to the center of the floor. The chandeliers above them gleamed in excitement, their light blurring into long, golden streaks even as the orchestra played… a slow rendition of Taylor Swift’s Trouble.

How utterly fitting.

Knight’s hand settled at her waist, firm, familiar.

A little too familiar.

Barbie’s pulse fluttered wildly as he drew her close enough to inhale a whiff of that addictive spice of his cologne. They moved together effortlessly, perfectly, though she wasn’t sure if she was dancing or simply being carried by the sheer force of his will. Just when she felt like she was getting lost in him, in the music, in the very moment, his words snapped her right back to the present.

“You seem nervous,” he murmured, his breath hot against the shell of her ear.

“Do I?”

Why was her voice all airy and flirty?

Knight only smiled, a slow, predatory thing that made her knees weak. “Your pulse is hitting against your neck like a trapped bird, Dahlia. It’s giving you away.”

There was no point correcting him about the Dahlia reference now, was there?

She decided to overlook it.

“It must be the music. It’s… intense.”

“Maybe,” he conceded easily, his voice dropping to a low hum. “Or… maybe you recognize me. Maybe you remember the way you felt back in my hotel room… when there weren't any masks between us.”

Barbara’s breath caught, but she forced her face to stay still… her split personalities, the professional assassin, fighting the woman who wanted to push him right down onto the marble and ride the fuck out of him till she was writhing in ecstasy, the people gathered around them be damned.

“Why do you seem hellbent on making me into someone I’m not?” Barbie could feel a bit of irritation building. She didn’t know if it was towards him or herself.

“Instinct,” he said, spinning her into a slow, dizzying circle. “I tend to have a very good one… especially about dangerous people. And you, Barbara Neil Aryan… you’re the most dangerous thing in this room.”

The use of her real name felt like a punch to the gut.

He knew who she was.

At that point, it felt useless fighting it, you know?

Especially when she planned on slipping out of the gala undetected. The last thing she needed was for him to reveal her secret and have her face plastered across the tabs even before morning came.

Barbara’s laugh came out sharper than intended. “Dangerous? Well, I see now that you got all your facts twisted, because I’m hardly that. I mean, look at me. I’m the woman everyone is laughing at for crying out loud.”

“Hmm,” Knight hummed, his gaze dropping briefly to her mouth. His eyes were dark with a hunger that made her sex ache. “You’d be surprised what I can see when I’m this close, Dahlia.”

There he went with that name again… doing things to her insides that she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Every movement between them pressed her closer to him. Every turn, every single twirl, weakened a resolve she didn’t even know she had set.

Barbie tried to justify the moment they were in, told herself that this was just her gathering information on her next target, information that would justify her killing him to set herself free from Kenneth’s clutches.

But when his thumb brushed the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist, her breath stuttered.

“Who are you really?” her target asked, his voice raw with a sudden, primal need. “My men spent weeks hunting for you. Do you know what they found?”

Nothing.

Because technically, she didn’t exist, but she didn’t say anything.

Knight continued nonetheless.

“They found a fire,” he whispered, his grip tightening until it was almost painful. “A house that had been scrubbed of life. They told me you were dead. That the woman I couldn't stop thinking about had burned to ash with her boyfriend and her friend.”

He pulled her smack against his chest, his heart thudding with a heavy, rhythmic power that almost felt animalistic. “So, tell me, how is it that a dead woman is dancing in my arms, Dahlia? How are you still alive?”

The words, his confession that he had been searching for her, and the intense, searching gaze in his eyes, lit something inside Barbie. Something so raw, almost primal, that the plus-sized assassin almost forgot to breathe.

All she wanted to do was pull him into the shadows, to claim those sultry lips and ride out the manic heat in her loins until it was just him and her, and no one else.

But Barbara tilted her head back. The action took just a split of a second, but it was enough to shatter the fantasy.

Uncle Kenneth!

There he stood, right there on the balcony, watching their every interaction.

Even through the handheld mask blocking his view, Barbara could see the excited glint in his eyes, the one that said that he had seen every bit of their… chemistry, and seemed… intrigued by it.

Shit.