The instructions had been clear, even broken down into steps for me to follow. What should have been fool-proof, I messed up somehow. In my defense, I’m not a professional assassin. Tonight, I was supposed to break my contract-killer cherry. Instead, I’d proven to Daria, my best friend and now boss, that I had the attention span of a gnat on speed in a room full of light bulbs. See for yourself.
Step One - Dress the part.
The invitation to the fancy party called for black tie attire. Wearing a dark green, sheath-style, floor-length, strapless Armani knock-off gown with a slit up to my chin, I looked dressed to kill. Pun intended. My fierce three-inch, closed-toe, suede heels matched perfectly—platform, so I could run if I needed to. I styled my hair half up half down all curled and elegant-like. Minimal eye makeup and dark red lipstick—non-smudge of course—finished my look.
Step Two - Don’t be late.
I’d arrived on time to the venue—a crazy huge mansion on the hill, complete with valet parking and a thirty-foot, fully decorated Christmas tree outside. Made it into the party with ease, grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter so I would blend in, then checked and double checked my surroundings. Still with plenty of time to spare. Piece of cake.
Step Three - Blend in.
Total cinch. I’m good in a crowd: social and seen or aloof and unnoticed. I’d gone with the latter tonight and had been ahead of the curve if I say so myself. I’d held a glass of champagne just like everyone else—which I didn’t drink so I could keep a clear head just like Daria cautioned—and I’d been quietly mingling. Playing the part of a holiday engagement party goer.
Nothing to see here, folks. Just another ordinary girl at an everyday party.
Step Four - Identify your mark.
According to the instructions, I’d know my mark once the speeches started. He would be the first one up, starting out by thanking everyone for coming. Since the speeches hadn’t started yet, I’d felt safe skipping to the next step for the time being.
Side note: Looking back, I realize this was probably where things started to get a little dicey for me, I just didn’t know it. I mean, I don’t want to get ahead of myself here, but I should have known to abort mission right then. But I didn’t.
Instead, I’d moved on.
Step Five - Get into position.
To me step five was presumptuous and based entirely on step four. If I hadn’t found my mark yet, no way was I going to know where to be in position. Right?
So, I’d skipped it.
Step Six - Double check your weapon.
Obviously, I’m not a pro. Not like Daria and the rest of her girls. Tonight was the trial run for me. A chance to prove to Daria that I was up to doing some of her dirtier work. So, for me, checking my weapon meant finding a corner somewhere, turning my back to the party, and making sure the gun was still in my clutch.
It was.
I’d turned the safety off, made sure the silencer was in place, pulled it out of my bag, kept my hand firm on the grip, and my finger away from the trigger. Then hid my hand, holding the gun behind my clutch and turned back around to face the party.
Which is when I saw him.
Reed Roberts.
The man I’d been in love with most of my adult life. Well, really the past year or so, but it felt like much longer.
In a tuxedo.
It was one of those be still my heart moments. I’ll take a man in a tuxedo any day, I tell you, but Reed in a tux is something else altogether. I think I got knocked up just looking at him. He was so close I could have leaned forward and licked him if I’d wanted to. Just me and him, sharing the same airspace, at the same exclusive party.
Wasn’t that mistletoe he’d been standing under?
Now I realize that’s how I made mistake number one.
Because it hadn’t even occured to me to wonder why Reed was at the party. So caught up in the magic of seeing him in formalwear was I, all common sense flew right out the window. Instead of staying on task, I’d maneuvered myself around the perimeter of the party and tried to see who Reed was talking to. I was too short and hopping in place to get a clearer view only resulted in spilling my champagne. I’d made my way over to the giant fireplace to stand tiptoe atop the hearth, steadying myself with the branches of the decorated Christmas tree nearby. One of the many decorated trees inside the house. But it gave me those few extra inches in height I so desperately needed to see that my world was about to start crashing down. Because that guy Reed had been talking to shouldn’t have been there.
It was David Tremblay.
My ex.
The same one responsible for friend-zoning me with Reed to begin with. I mean, sure they’re friends, the best of friends, so it made sense that they’d talk when they saw each other. But I did not have room in my plan for David tonight. Not to mention, he was bound to remind Reed that he (David) and I had once been a couple, brief though it may have been. Which would then remind him (Reed) I was persona non grata in his world. After which he wouldn’t want anything to do with me.
Pretty much like normal.
I’ll admit seeing David threw me off my game a bit. Or a lot. I hadn’t been expecting to see anyone I knew at this party. Then, boom, the secret love of my life and my ex. So, yeah, I was shook. You could say that moment was the beginning of the end for me. In retrospect, I don’t think I handled the next few minutes quite as stealthily as I could have.
I’d scooted around the edge of the crowd, away from the fireplace toward the front facing windows. The room was enormous, and filled with guests, so slowly making my way around the perimeter was the smartest way to move about without drawing attention to myself. I held my back toward the wall, and kept moving, trying to find a spot from where I could see Reed more clearly without the throng of people blocking my view.
The way I saw it was, if I could see him then he could see me, at which point I would bowl him over by my beauty and he would profess his undying love. Because I’d looked amazing tonight and there was no way he’d be able to resist me.
Which was why, instead of checking for Step Seven and confirming the prior six steps, I fantasized about getting Reed alone in a room upstairs.
Mistake number two.
It was a good fantasy too—his hand slipping in the slit of my dress, right at the upper thigh, curving around to grab my bare ass cheek, because in fantasies I go commando, then leaning in and kissing that sensitive spot behind my ear while my hands grip at the huge muscles of his—
“—you all for coming tonight.”
I’d heard that voice and all I could think was, holy shit, the speeches!
Not to mention, who was my mark?
And, fuck, where was my position?
I’d tried to review the steps in my mind, but I couldn’t remember what step I was on.
So, you know: Shit. Shit. Shit.
I regrouped.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
Reviewed the steps.
Step Four - Identify the mark.
Step Five - Get into position.
Squeezed through a group of people to a small clearing, I stood tiptoe, but saw nothing.
“Excuse me.” I’d pushed past another group, all of whom had been standing way too close together to be normal, which finally afforded me a clear shot to the front of the room. No pun intended.
And then everything really went to hell in a handbasket.
I realized I knew who the speaker (and my mark) was at the same time a deep, sexy voice whispered in my ear, “What in the hell are you doing?”
Startling me.
Except the more accurate description, instead of startled, would have been: made me jump and shriek with my hands flying in the air sending my clutch in one direction and my gun in the other. Disarming and dis-positioning me in one move.
Which about brings me to now. . .