Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) (28 page)

Her stare is persistent, and this bitch bothers me. I
’m annoyed at both of them.

I decide to answer the apparently impossible question. "For a little while
," I manage. I don't think the statement is stretching it, because vague is what I was going for. It isn't her business. I can't believe a person who I have known for such a short period can mean so much to me, but right now, he is pushing it.

Her body shifts as if she is uncomfortable. I find the movement satisfying, and decide I am going to rise to the occasion. I flash my smile.

"Oh." Her face flushes, and she almost sounds wounded. She still hasn't looked at me, even though I was the one who answered her. All I can think is
Fuck. This. Bitch.
I wish Derek were standing here next to me so we could snicker and make fun of her fake tan together like the immature people we are. It would make me feel a whole hell of a lot better.

What's their history?
Obviously, they have one. They've probably fucked.

My subconscious is getting testy, and more crude and foul the longer I am around this
woman.

Why hasn't Jeremy done anything? Well
, what could he do?

I need to get away from this toxic scenario, and decide to make myself more useful somewhere else. Somewhere I don't have to witness this terribly awkward situation. This experience bores me.
It's a typical situation that mediocre people are willing to deal with, but not me. My adolescent reaction is annoying even to me, and I need to walk away. I am willing to take only so much. I guess there is no room for explanations with the girl standing right here, but if there is ever a moment for Jeremy to step up to the plate ...

Looking over the blonde's shoulder
, I see the man Jeremy singled out earlier as a failed business attempt, Richard Dyvornychenko, and I decide that will be where I make myself useful. A plan sparks in my brain. Maybe I can work this to my advantage.
I decide to interrupt the happy couple catching up. "I'll be right back, babe." I make sure to enunciate the endearment. The tacky blonde,
oops
, I mean Victoria, looks on with annoyance.

Really? She was the one interrupting us! It was not the other way around, but whatever
.

"Where are you going?" Jeremy looks confused. Now
he cares?

I take a deep breath, realizing my attitude and inner monologue are being childish.
However, his wide-eyed question makes me smile. Glad to know I still affect him.

I lean into Jeremy, tugging him close so only he can hear. My lips brush against his ear
. "Just watch," I whisper, and my eyes glitter with promise as I press my lips against the sensitive skin below his ear. The slight shiver that Jeremy tries to conceal satisfies me.

He grins wide and almost starts to argue, but I command his silence with my wry smile. Even when the bastard has me fuming, he still flames my blood.
How dangerous.

He feigns annoyance
, and I hold back a giggle. He kisses me too briefly. "You're a goddess," he whispers back, and with that, I turn and walk away.
I win.

I make it three steps before I hear a strained, high-pitched chirp
. "I thought you said you didn't like public displays of affection."

I grin. Jeremy is mine, as much as I am his, but I almost turn back around so I can kick her feet
out from under her. Consider this me turning over a new leaf.
Lucky her.
In addition, I have shit I need to take care of. Let's not forget why I am here.

I whisper through still lips to Derek, "Has Marcus arrived yet?"

"Negative. No sign. Do you think he'll show?"

"I do. Maybe he is aiming for fashionably late?"

"You wish. I doubt scientists aim for fashionable, Turner." His tone makes me smile.

My best friend
has seemed out of reach lately, and it's comforting to have him echoing in my head. It's familiar and reassuring.

I spot Richard
Dyvornychenko sipping his champagne alone next to the hors d'oeuvres, and I beeline for him. I nonchalantly shimmy by him, saying, "Privet, izvinte."
Hello, excuse me.
The Russian that spills out of my mouth feels like a long lost friend as I grab a cracker.

I know who Richard is, even though I played dumb with Jeremy. He is someone that homeland security keeps a constant eye on. He is big in nuclear energy. I've never met the man, but I know his type
. He isn't the biggest fan of Americans. His thin lips are set into a default, repressed frown, which says it all.

Jeremy is never going to get this man to agree to anything
, because he doesn't understand him well enough. It's more than numbers and beneficial compromises. I can work this to my advantage.

Richard is a tall, thin man with thick, slicked-back
, salt -and-pepper hair, and a clean shave. His lips reveal a dazzling smile upon hearing my words, and it softens his poisonous demeanor.

His deep brown eyes drag over
my face. A surprisingly gentleman thing to do, and it makes me want to like him. "Privet. Ty russkiy? Vy govorite krasivo."
Hello. Are you Russian? You speak beautifully.

I smile back, and continue in his native tongue
. "Thank you, but I am not Russian. I took it in college."

His grin remains, obviously impressed. "But you knew I was Russian? What is a beautiful woman doing talking to an old man like me? Someone surely must have brought you on his arm."

I realize listening to his crisp pronunciation how much I love the Russian language. I can't wait to wrap my tongue around more words. I have always been fascinated with language, and Russian is a favorite.

People assume that Russians are a slimy, rude sort of people, but on the contrary. I adore them, and always have. Just like the French, all they want is a little respect for their culture.

It could make or break a situation ... as I am about to show Jeremy Hunt, CEO, who I can still hear babbling to Victoria through my earpiece. She dropped the subject of a girlfriend as soon as I walked away and has moved on to catching up, no doubt planning a way for them to meet up. I make it a point of tuning him out, because if I don't, I might really follow through with a physical altercation.

I notice Jeremy's hooded blue eyes are looking at me over the pretty blonde's shoulder. I'm sure he's wondering what the hell I am up to.
Just watch, Jeremy.

Looking back at Richard, I smile and decide to introduce myself in Russian. "I'm Alexandra Raven, and my date seems to be indisposed." I can't help my tone as I say it.

Richard grabs an extra flute of champagne from a passing waiter, and hands it to me with polite grace. "The man must be a fool,” he says. “I have half a mind to tell him so." He watches me smirk, and holds his hand out to me. "I am Richard Dyvornychenko, and the pleasure is all mine, Alexandra. What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman." He takes my hand and turns it over so he can place a kiss on it. "So, Alexandra. How did you know I was Russian?"

I shrug. "Confession: I recognized you and decided to come say hello."

Obviously delighted, he points to himself comically. "Me? How?"

I grin mischievously. "Well, you won't like one of my reasons, but I have two. One, I recognize you from a textbook regarding your impressive advances with nuclear energy. The second reason I'd rather not say." I wink.

His thick brows shoot up with curiosity, and he laughs. "I'm too delighted to have your attention to push the matter, and am honored to have piqued your interest." It's almost as if he is flirting, but his warm stare, and the fact I haven't seen him look at my body once, gives him a grandfatherly vibe.

Trying to ease into the conversation, I confess my obsession with and
my hopes for nuclear energy, and we babble back and forth in Russian. His smile never falters during the fifteen minutes we talk.

"I don't know what you are up to, but you have an incoming at your seven o'clock, Turner." Derek's voice interrupts me.

I assume he means Marcus, but when I tear my gaze away, I see Jeremy stalking toward me. I grin as I lock eyes with his glacial stare, and though I see his lips twitch, he reveals nothing as he joins us. He places his hand possessively at the small of my back. It sends that familiar electric current up my spine and down each thigh. I swallow at the connection and try to memorize his wonderful body in that perfect suit.

"There you are. Hello, Richard." His tone is cool. The two men make eye contact with one another, and I notice Richard's warm stare fades into indifference.
Interesting.

Richard answers back in perfect English, "Good evening, Jeremy."
Well, at least they seem to be on a first name basis.

Richard turns to me, saving his smile for me, switching back to Russian so Jeremy can't understand. "If this is the date you spoke of, then I am not surprised about his blatant disregard. He doesn't know what he has,
or how lucky he is to have you on his arm tonight. Would you like me to tell him?"

I can tell Richard means it as a joke, and I don't hold back my laughter at the kind gesture, and compliment, not to mention the implied distaste for Jeremy. I
reply in Russian, still trying to mask my amusement. "That won't be necessary. He'll be hearing it from me later, trust me."

This causes him to laugh too as Jeremy watches, perplexed by the exchange.

I continue once more in his native tongue. "You know, he really isn't that bad. I don't waste my time with people who aren't worth it. He is in it for good, I promise."

Richard's eyes glitter as he realizes my ulterior motive. "Oh, business? He must be the reason you didn't want me to know. I've been hoodwinked by a beautiful woman."

I bow, igniting Richards's solid, hearty laugh. "I was willing to give Jeremy a chance. Maybe you could too?"

"Clever woman." He wags a knowing finger at me. He eyes Jeremy before continuing for my ears only. "Always business, Alexandra? Maybe for you I could try and give him a chance
, then?"

I grin. "Isn't it truly business that brings us all here anyway? It really was a pleasure meeting you, sir."

He takes my chin, tugging at it as you would a child's. "Mllaya moyna." It's a Russian endearment meaning my sweet. I pull away as he continues. "Please, always call me Richard. If you ever find yourself in Moscow, my dear, you must let me show you around the city." I nod in appreciation, and using one last bit of Russian, he says, "And for you, I will try. Pleasure meeting you, Alexandra."

My work here is done
. The conversation was more enjoyable than I thought possible. I turn to Jeremy, smiling. I am rewarded with a pantie-dropping grin that makes my mouth water.
So handsome.

I can feel Richard watching, so I try to make this quick. Jeremy wants to ask what is going on, but I beat him to it. I press my lips to his,
and then bring my lips to his ear. I answer his unspoken question. "I'm giving you more reasons to trust me."

Feeling accomplished, I walk away, leaving the two men to discuss their big business. I can hear Richard speaking in English with an impressed, wry tone to Jeremy. "You
have a clever girl, Mr. Hunt."

Jeremy is quick to respond. "I am fully aware of that, Mr.
Dyvornychenko, but maybe more so than I thought."

I can't
help but smile as I walk through the throngs of people, unsure of my direction as I keep my eyes darting around the room, trying to reset my focus.

"What the hell was that
, Turner?" Derek says in my ear.

I roll my eyes so that he'll see it no matter where he's standing. "It's called building trust, Matthews. You might want to take notes."

I hear him sigh, but before he responds, my breath catches in my throat. "Marcus is here,” I gasp, “and he isn't alone."

Jealousy, Apologies & Cigarettes

ALEX TURNER

A gasp isn't what I expected to come out of my mouth, but I couldn't help it.

My shock transitions into seething anger at the sight of Marcus Gibbs, and I remember my gun strapped to my thigh. The impatient agent in me is ready to pull it out and nail him between the eyes without a second thought. Wouldn't that solve all of this? Nip it in the bud, because there is more at stake.
Ergh.

When you hurt the people I care about
, I tend to get vengeful. It may be childish, but it's another unfortunate fact of my flawed personality. I have a tendency to become erratic. Agents like me thrive on instantaneous reactions. It's how we get jobs done efficiently.

I look Marcus over and realize I'd almost forgotten what he looked like, but he seems different since our last encounter. On the
surface, he's still a handsome young man with lean, classical features. His shaggy sandy brown hair frames his oval face and complements his green eyes. He's tall and not too muscular, but still has a striking posture that implies confidence. However, upon closure inspection, you can see his high cheekbones are more prominent, verging on gaunt, and his eyes seem sunken into his handsome face. He's lost a bit of weight.

Is it stress? Drugs? Or a bit of both?

I only get a glimpse of his profile as he weaves through the crowd, which makes it more difficult to gather details about his mystery dinner guest. Something catches my eye as I watch him move. Even though their arms are linked in what one would assume is a close gesture, I think the truth is rather the contrary. Marcus makes a point of making sure his body maintains a gap between him and his date. My job is to be a professional observer, and I know when someone doesn't want to be touched. I, too, suffer from the affliction.

The long, sleek black hair
, in combination with her ruby red dress, is all I can make out of his date. I'm brimming with frustration. Who is she?

"Turner, what is happening? Where is he?" Derek says, hearing my huff.

"Nothing is happening. I can't get a good look at the date he brought. My gut is telling me it’s the woman from the surveillance video. He just entered."

"I am coming to find you."

The couple disconnects, and the woman heads down a hallway. This overwhelming need for information engulfs me. "Derek, she is heading to the bathroom. I am going to follow her. I want a solid look. Keep an eye on Jeremy; we didn't manage to discuss seeing Marcus."

"Don't do anything stupid, Turner."

I smirk, hoping that Derek is watching from afar. "No promises."

I skip off, following the red hourglass figure down a secluded hallway.

JEREMY HUNT

"Well, Mr. Dyvornychenko, I am glad you have reconsidered. I hope we can discuss the rest of this over lunch and sign the contract."

Ever since this conversation began, Richard has had a smug look on his face. "You should really be thanking your wonderful date, Alexandra. She is quite delightful. Beautiful girl
, who speaks Russian with a regal air, quite amazing indeed. She told me to give you a chance, as she did for you. And for now, I am glad I did. Don't make me regret it."

I chuckle
, thinking,
isn't it me who gave her a chance?
"She is something, isn't she? And I won't let you regret it, Richard. We both have bright futures, and I look forward to the partnership."

He raises an eyebrow at my words as if questioning their authenticity. "Well, as I told your
girlfriend, was it?"

I can't help but grin at the title. "Yea
h, she is my girlfriend."

As if impressed by my reaction, his eyes glitter. "As I told your girlfriend, if you ever find yourself in Moscow, please visit. Good day, Jeremy, I will be expecting your call." I shake his hand, and he wanders off into the crowd.

I stuff both hands in my pockets as I watch him walk away, shrugging my shoulders in disbelief at the chain of events.
Well, I'll be damned.

This overwhelming need to put my hands on Alex takes over
, and I realize I have no idea where she is. I peer at my watch, realizing I have a little over an hour until I have to give my speech.

I glance upward, looking for her golden eyes and cascading curls, but find my eyes darting back and forth with no sign. Instead, I catch a glimpse of someone I should have anticipated. My breath catches in my throat, and my core heats with anger.

Marcus stands there, smug, sipping on a drink, talking with our friends David and Jake, laughing at some stupid joke. He looks normal and unconcerned, carefree even, and it makes me fume.
That asshole.

I want to give him a piece of my mind. I pull my hands out of my pockets, clench my fists, and begin my angry stride with determination.

What will I say to him?
Hey, asshole, thanks for trying to have me killed. You wanna take this outside? Or how about,
oh, thanks for trying to have me murdered, and by the way, how about you pass on the biological warfare thing?

My stride picks up with each step. Before I can make it ten feet
, Derek comes careening into my view, puts his hands flat against my chest, and pushes me back. "Keep it together, Hunt. Now is not the fucking time."

My crystal gaze collides with Derek's surprisingly determined green stare.

"Matthews, I got something to say to that asshole."

He shoves me one last time, and I notice a couple people are staring, so I take in a deep breath and quit pushing back to appease the spectators.

"I bet you do, but, Jeremy, listen to me. You are smarter than this. Your best friend tried to have you killed, and you want to kick his ass. I'd want to do the same thing. You need to remember there is a little more at stake here than that, right? If you are on our side, you gotta keep your cool, plus I think you can work this to your advantage, don't you think?"

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. Trying to keep my cool, I straighten out my bowtie. "What do you mean?"

"Don't go in guns blazing. I would walk over there as if you have no idea what is going on. It will freak him out. He thinks you're dead." I grin. "See? Doesn't that sound better? You can go in there and work this thing to your advantage. I heard that you, too, can be a slimy, arrogant fuck, naturally.” He jabs be in the arm to show he approves. "Now, go work it to your advantage. Alex and I will do the rest. Got it? Freak him out and mess with him a bit. But for the love of God, do not give anything away." He jabs his finger into my chest to drive the point. "Do you understand me, Hunt?"

I squint at him, annoyed, but I know he's right. I take a deep breath. "I understand."

"Now, you got this. Keep your cool, and take this."

Derek hands me his half-empty flute of champagne. I take it from his hands, and down the rest of it in one gulp. "Liquid courage, Matthews?"

"Of course. Now go say hello."

I can't tell if this means we're friends, but I will accept this mini pep talk for what it is.

ALEX TURNER

I make my way to the bathroom door, listening to Derek and Jeremy talk through my earpiece. I roll my eyes before I enter, whispering for Derek's ears only, "Thanks for that, but you don't need to egg him on either."

In that moment I hope Jeremy never makes it Marcus, because I don’t trust his temper, not when it comes
to his estranged best friend.

T
hough, I do appreciate over hearing Derek and Jeremy’s pow-wow, and the one thing I am hopeful for is for them to be friends someday.

Friends?
Really?
My subconscious quips, while rolling her eyes.

Okay, obviously a long shot, I know.

Derek’s voice pulls me back to reality, pulling me out of my wishful musings. "Don't worry, Turner. He will be fine. What is your twenty? I can't see you."

I open the swinging door
, regaining my focus. "Just now entering the woman's bathroom."
Deep breaths.

I walk into the lavish room and absorb the sight of the marble countertops, designer sinks and faucets, and the large mirror lining the wall above.

No sign of the woman. I step up to an available sink and pretend to fiddle with my makeup. I pull eyeliner and mascara out of my small clutch, waiting for the mystery woman to emerge.

Sure enough
, only a moment goes by before the fiery dress comes out of a nearby stall. I drag the eyeliner across my eye as I watch her come to stand two sinks away from me, meticulously fixing long strands of inky black hair. As she studies her reflection, I am finally given that perfect view. I grab a mental snapshot.

Her menacing dark chocolate eyes, pointed nose, high
cheekbones, and flawless mocha skin are familiar.
You're kidding me.

She notices me staring as the memory flares in my mind. I tense, realizing who she is. It's an odd combination of feelings: anxious anticipation, relief at solving the mystery, familiar
anger, and jealousy from the history that this woman may not realize we have.

I tear my eyes away, finishing my makeup, and decide I'm leaving now. I need to before I blow another gasket.

I try not to look like I am running, and wonder if she remembers my face too. Although, I don't think we have ever had a face-to-face encounter.

I need to get to Derek as soon as possible. We might have a problem. I must not lose my temper
. This is taking a weirder twist than I anticipated.
Just keep cool.

I follow the sound of the band to the gallery where everyone is mingling. I hit the crowd at full speed
, then slow my pace, trying to seem normal. I wipe my face of emotion, replacing it with a mild smirk as I weave through the crowd.

Where is Jeremy? I listen through my earpiece, and I gather that Jeremy was diverted from his quest to confront Marcus by a guest. I hear him talking about his speech with what sounds like another
woman.

Really?
Will my jealousy ever take a rest? It's engulfing me.

Sighing, I feel a hand grab my elbow. I twist out of the person's grasp, but the person's hand grabs at my waist in a way that calms me, and I realize it's Derek.

He grins, but I'm fuming. I jab my finger in his chest. "You!"

His thick brows rise in mock confusion. "Me?" he questions
. "What did I do now?"

I open my mouth to respond, but he yanks my body forward. "Turner, let's dance, shall we?"

I step out of his grasp. "Derek, no. I saw who that woman is."

He grabs my elbow again, and pulls me toward the dance floor. "I want to dance with you. Tell me everything then."

What is he doing? Now is not the time to lay on the charm. I gasp, struggling to respond and protest, but he swivels my body around, placing his hands at my waist and my hands instinctively wrap around his neck. He fluidly leads me to the tempo of the music. It has a classical edge to it, with a wonderful combination of violin and acoustic guitar. I try to let the music calm me, but it isn't working.

"Derek, this is not playing fair. Listen to me, please."

He rolls his eyes, as that smug smile plays on his lips. "Have I told you how beautiful I think you look tonight?"

I squint in disbelief. "Who are you right now? You are in no position to try and get into my good graces."

"I am trying to calm you."

"Well, you're lucky we are in public, or I’d have no qualms making a scene."

The music slows, and he brings me a bit closer to him. My anger tingles at the surface of my skin. "You have my attention now, Turner. What is it?" he whispers in my ear.

I inhale, feeling his humid breath on the
length of my neck. I'm conflicted by the sensation. It's comforting, yet it fuels my anger. I realize it's misplaced, but I have kept it buried for so long.

"Derek, I know who that woman is. It's Adessa Moradi."

He pulls away to look at me, still confused. "Who?"

I exhale, annoyed that I remember her and he doesn't. I roll my eyes. "Men are absolutely ridiculous, and you are officially proof."

"Why are you getting so effing peeved at me? Who is Adessa Moradi?"

"Remember Dubai, about a year ago?"

"Of course. It was a great case, though the guy got released due to some sort of jurisdiction bullshit."

"Anything else you remember from that case? I got a bullet in the shoulder because you couldn't keep it in your pants
."

His brows furrow, but he's holding back a laugh as he swings me around the dance floor. "Your point is? I remember taking a bullet for you not too long ago in Prague, huh?"