"Is that really a Monet or just expensive wallpaper?" the blonde woman asked loudly.
Aria stood near the bar. She had been at the Manhattan charity auction for twenty minutes, watching faces and waiting for Marcus Thorne to appear.
"Darling, if you have to ask, you can't afford it," her brunette friend said. "Marcus Thorne doesn't buy anything fake."
Aria's heart sped up. She turned to see who they were looking at.
Marcus Thorne was near the auction podium, talking to an older man. He was taller than she had imagined, with dark hair that he had pushed back with his hand. His tuxedo fit him well.
It was his face that surprised her. He has a strong jaw, a straight nose, and the bluest eyes she has ever seen. This was not the monster she had pictured for five years. This was a man who could make women do reckless things.
"I heard he hasn't dated anyone since his wife died," the brunette said. "Four years alone. Can you imagine?"
"What a waste," the blonde said. "I'd help him get over his grief."
Aria wanted to tell them Marcus Thorne was a murderer. Instead, she finished her champagne and walked toward him.
She had spent two hours getting ready. A black dress that showed her shape but was not too obvious. Diamond earrings are worth more than most cars. Makeup that made her look perfect.
Marcus was still speaking when she got close enough to hear.
"The quarterly reports look good, but I'm worried about Europe," the older man said. "Regulations are getting harder."
"We'll adapt," Marcus said. His voice was deep and rough. "We always do."
"Sometimes you enjoy the challenge too much. Not everything has to be a fight."
Marcus smiled. "Where's the fun in that, James?"
Aria timed her approach. As they finished talking, she walked past them toward the bar. She wanted her perfume to reach him but not seem like she was trying.
It worked.
"Excuse me," Marcus said behind her. "Haven't we met before?"
Aria turned and looked at his blue eyes. Up close, he was even more attractive. Something about him made it hard to think clearly.
"I don't think so," she said, letting her accent show. "I would have remembered."
His smile grew. "Marcus Thorne." He held out his hand.
"Elena Sterling." She shook his hand. She felt a spark up her arm. His grip was strong, and he held on a little too long. "I'm an art curator from London."
"What brings you to New York?" Marcus asked.
"Business. And curiosity about charity auctions," Aria said. She gestured at the room. "Do you always buy art to give money away?"
"Only when the cause matters," Marcus said. "Tonight is for arts education for underprivileged kids."
Of course, he would pick a cause that made him look good. Aria smiled like she was impressed. "How generous," she said.
"Are you bidding on anything tonight?" Marcus asked.
"The Degas sketch caught my eye," Aria said. "But it will probably go for more than I can pay."
Marcus's eyes went over her slowly. Not like most men, but enough to make her skin warm. "A woman who knows art and knows her limits," he said. "Interesting."
"What about you? Adding to your collection?" Aria asked.
"Depends what's for sale," Marcus said.
The way he said it made her think he wasn't talking about paintings. Aria felt her face warm. She was supposed to be seducing him, not reacting to him.
"The auction's starting," she said, looking at the podium.
"Would you like to sit with me? I have a table near the front," Marcus asked.
This was happening faster than she expected. "I wouldn't want to impose," Aria said.
"I insist. You'll have a better view," Marcus said.
He put his hand on her back to guide her through the crowd. The touch burned through her dress. Aria told herself it was just attraction, nothing else.
His table was right at the front. He pulled out her chair and sat next to her, close enough that she could smell his cologne.
"Can I get you another drink?" Marcus asked.
"Champagne, please," Aria said.
He signaled the waiter without looking away from her. "Tell me about London. Do you miss it?" he asked.
"Sometimes. But New York has its attractions," Aria said.
"Such as?" Marcus asked.
"The energy. The opportunities. The surprises," Aria said, meeting his eyes. "You never know who you might meet."
The auctioneer started the bidding. Aria watched the crowd but kept Marcus in the corner of her vision. He sat relaxed and confident, like he owned the room.
"That Degas you liked is coming up," he said quietly.
The sketch was beautiful. A ballerina adjusting her slipper. Bidding started at fifty thousand. Aria bid at seventy-five, then stopped at one hundred.
"Too expensive for me," she whispered.
Marcus raised his paddle. "One hundred fifty thousand," he said.
No one else bid. "Sold to bidder number twelve," the auctioneer said.
Aria stared. "You just spent one hundred fifty thousand dollars on a drawing," she said.
"I did," Marcus said.
"Why?" Aria asked.
Marcus faced her fully. His knee brushed hers. "Because you wanted it," he said.
Her heart beat faster. "You don't even know me," she said.
"I know you like beautiful things. I know you understand art. And I know you wanted that piece but couldn't afford it," Marcus said in a lower voice. "Now you can have it."
This was wrong. She was supposed to be the one in control. Instead, she felt like the prey.
"I can't accept such an expensive gift from someone I just met," Aria said.
"You're not accepting it. You're earning it," Marcus said.
"How?" Aria asked.
"Have dinner with me tomorrow night," Marcus said.
Aria's mouth went dry. "That's a very expensive dinner," she said.
"You're a very expensive woman," Marcus said.
The way he looked at her made her feel exposed.
"I barely know you," she said.
"Then we'll fix that. Eight o'clock tomorrow. I'll pick you up," Marcus said.
"I haven't said yes yet," Aria said.
Marcus leaned closer. "You will," he said.
The confidence should have annoyed her. Instead, it excited her. This man was dangerous.
The auction continued, but Aria barely noticed. All her attention was on the man beside her. The man she had come to kill.
When the auction ended, Marcus offered his arm. "Let me walk you out," he said.
They moved through the crowd. People stopped Marcus to talk about business or congratulate him. He introduced her as Elena every time, his hand never leaving her back.
Outside, his driver waited next to a black Mercedes.
"This is me," Aria said at the curb.
"Where are you staying? I'll have Robert take you," Marcus said.
"The Plaza. But I can get a taxi," Aria said.
"Absolutely not," Marcus said, opening the door. "Robert, please take Ms. Sterling to the Plaza."
Aria slid into the seat. Marcus leaned to the window.
"What's your room number? So I know where to pick you up tomorrow," he said.
She should not tell him. But looking at his blue eyes made her forget her rules.
"Penthouse suite," she said.
His smile was slow. "Of course it is. Eight o'clock, Elena," he said.
The car pulled away. Aria watched Marcus get smaller in the window. When she could not see him anymore, she leaned back. She had come to seduce Marcus Thorne. Instead, she felt seduced.
He had bought her a drawing like it was nothing. Asked her to dinner, like spending that money was normal. Maybe for him it was.
The Plaza's doorman greeted her. "Good evening, Ms. Sterling," he said.
Her suite was huge, decorated in cream and gold. Her handler had spared no expense for this cover identity.
Aria kicked off her heels and poured vodka. Her hands shook as she lifted the glass.
This was not how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to be the hunter, not the hunted.
Marcus Thorne was more dangerous than she expected. Not because he was a killer, but because he made her feel things she could not afford to feel.
Her phone buzzed. "How did it go?" the message read.
She typed back: "Better than expected. He wants to see me again."
"Perfect. Phase one complete," the reply came.
Right. This was just the beginning. Tomorrow, she would have dinner with Marcus and start making him fall in love. Then, when he was completely devoted, she would destroy him.
But as she got ready for bed, Aria kept thinking about how he had looked at her. Like she was the most interesting woman in the room.
Tomorrow, she would find out how much he was willing to give up to have her. And she would find out if she was strong enough to take it all away.