Read Online Mischief in Miami by Nicole Williams - Free Book Online Page B

actions wouldn’t permanently taint my soul. I called it conscious removal, and to date, it hadn’t done me wrong.
    I barely noticed the lobby as I whisked through it because the lobby wasn’t my destination. The South Beach Suite was. I’d chosen that suite instead of the presidential suite because it didn’t require a special access key to get to the floor, which the Contact wouldn’t have been able to get to. I always chose an accessible place that would provide the fewest number of road blocks. It wasn’t my job to make the Contact’s job easier, but it was my job to close the Errand, and I didn’t want to give anyone an excuse for not holding up their end of the bargain.
    Once I was inside of the elevator and going up, I checked my reflection in the gold doors. I’d lined and painted my lips red like I did on every Sheet night. Men were fixated on women’s mouths, and when it was bright and hard to miss, the way mine was, they automatically imagined what it would look like wrapped around a certain part of their anatomy.
    Red lips were what we called a natural aphrodisiac. Lingerie, cleavage, stilettos, tiny and tight dresses, bedroom eyes, coy smiles . . . all of those were natural aphrodisiacs. Unnatural aphrodisiacs had to do with chemical engineering. Certain drugs slipped into a drink could stimulate desire or, if need be, sleep. Liquids with precisely the right mix of pheromones could be dabbed on the neck or décolletage to lure a Target closer. The Eves arsenal had it all, but I was something of a purist. I’d never needed the assistance of chemical engineering to bed a Target, and my goal was to keep it that way.
    I didn’t consider it cheating; it just seemed like a cop out. The day I couldn’t lure a man with nothing more than a look or bring him to his knees by sucking my lower lip into my mouth was the day I needed to start thinking about retirement.
    The elevator doors whooshed open, announcing it was show time. I stepped into the hall and headed for the suite. There were only a few rooms on that floor, and it was mostly quiet, except for a couple of voices behind one door.
    A male and a female voice coming from behind the door of the suite I was headed toward.
    I cursed under my breath and started ad hoc’ing the hell out of my contingency plans. Maybe it was just a maid doing a turn-down service. Maybe a waitress was delivering the Cristal. Maybe it was no one of significance.
    I sucked in a breath and knocked. The voices went silent right before the door swung open. Daniel was in a dark suit, smiling at me with expectation, and a familiar woman came up behind him.
    It was the show-stopping burlesque dancer from last night.
    Fuck.
    “Daniel,” I said cooly, giving Natasha just as cool of a look. No one had said anything yet, so I didn’t technically know why she was there, but from her clothes—almost identical to mine except her dress was black—and Daniel’s already rumpled tie, I knew why she was there.
    That cheating, three-way bastard was going down, and knowing I’d be responsible for it felt like a privilege.
    “We’ve been waiting for you,” he said with a smug expression. “I thought we could use a little company on our big night.” He inclined his head back at Natasha, who was smiling at me as though I was more her type than Daniel.
    If I ever ran into Mrs. Silva again, I would give her hell for not documenting that her husband was so into three-ways he probably couldn’t get off anymore without two girls grinding all over him.
    “And I thought I told you that I didn’t do that.” I propped a hand on my hip and gave him a killer look.
    “ Anymore ,” he added. “You said you didn’t do that anymore. But tonight’s going to change that.”
    He reached for my waist and pulled me inside. I would have fought if I thought I could succeed. Knowing when to fight and when not to was an important part of our world. Daniel had me when it came to brute strength. I’d lose