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

thanks to Daniel and his extravagant gifts.
    “Anything else I can get you this evening, ma’am?” the bellman asked, nodding his head as I handed him the tip.
    “Yeah,” I said. “If any more gifts, envelopes, or packages arrive for me, please just don’t accept them. It saves me from having to send them back.”
    “Can do, ma’am,” the bellman said with a chuckle as he headed for the elevator. “Man troubles?”
    I lifted my eyebrows. “Always.”
     
     
    IT WAS A dress. A nice one. The price tag had been removed, but I didn’t need it to know that Daniel had spent five figures. It was red, curve-hugging, and cleavage-showing. Mrs. Silva really did know her husband. It was a gorgeous gown, something I could have picked out, but as I got ready the next night for our dinner date, it stayed in the box.
    If I wore that dress, it would be a mini-surrender. It would be a victory, and I couldn’t give him that victory yet. I had to keep him motivated, and if I caved even a bit, he would believe the ball was back in his court.
    Which it wasn’t.
    With men like Daniel, I had to keep them in such a crazed state that when the time came, I could dictate the time and location of our “consummation,” and they wouldn’t only be there, they’d be there bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Keeping the Target motivated, crazed, and eager to please was the very crux of the Eve business. Spontaneous sex or giving-yourself-to-the-moment didn’t get husbands caught cheating on film.
    A few minutes before eight, I punched a message into my phone: That whole if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again doesn’t work with me . As I hit send, I imagined Daniel’s expression when he read it and allowed myself a smile.
    I’d just slid into my heels and was heading for the door when his reply came: That’s where your opinion and mine differ .
    Cocky, cocky, cocky bastard. If he wasn’t an Errand, I would never, in this life or the next, let him near me.
    However, it was an Errand, so I needed to shelve all of my personal thoughts and feelings on him. An Eve didn’t successfully close an Errand unless she checked personal at the door when she was working. And she didn’t stay in the business for long if she didn’t repress personal a good portion of the time when she wasn’t on the job.
    Once I’d made my way through the foyer, I found a black Bentley waiting for me outside. A driver waited with the back door open.
    “I suppose you’re waiting for me?” I said as I approached.
    “I was told I’d be picking up a beautiful woman in a red dress,” the driver replied, “but I’m sure Mr. Silva won’t complain if I’ve got the wrong woman.”
    I gave him a smile as I slid inside of the car. “I’m sure he wouldn’t.”
    Before the driver closed the door, he paused. “So, which one are you? The right or the wrong woman?”
    I looked him in the eyes and answered, “Both.”
    “Sounds like Mr. Silva’s a lucky man,” he added with a laugh before closing the door.
    In fact, Mr. Silva’s luck was about to run out.
    Not even ten minutes later, we pulled up to a familiar place. The line winding around the side wasn’t as long as it had been on Friday night, but still, The Pleasure Room was busy.
    I couldn’t believe the son of a bitch had brought me there for a dinner date. He’d probably screwed a girl over every accommodating surface. I wasn’t happy.
    But tonight wasn’t about being happy. It was about driving him mad so when I gave him the time and place of his forthcoming demise, he’d shake his head and wag his tail. Tonight wasn’t about keeping him at arm’s length anymore—tonight was about bringing him closer.
    By the time the driver came around to open the door, I’d recomposed my face, adjusted my dress, and was ready to saunter into that place as though I might have wanted to be somewhere else, but not with any body else.
    The driver inclined his head at one of the giants hovering in front of the