Morgan took a beat before nodding. “I like it.”
“Me too,” Noelle said, though she didn’t look thrilled to be seconding Morgan.
“All right.” Trevor’s gaze moved back to Isabel. “Looks like it’s you and me, then.”
Chapter 21
Four hours later, Isabel stepped out of the enormous bathroom of the extravagant suite looking like a new woman. She wore a jet-black wig and dark green contacts. Gone were the pads and makeup that had rounded out her cheeks; her face was now angular, her complexion bronze to reflect Paloma Dominguez-Martin’s Brazilian roots.
Paloma’s husband was equally transformed. Hair slicked back with gel, left ear adorned with a diamond stud, and an expensive tux hugging his impressive body.
“Love the earring,” Isabel remarked as she approached him on four-inch heels.
Trevor flashed the arrogant grin that was Julian Martin’s trademark. “Thank you, baby.”
The endearment was also a Julian thing, yet it still sent a tiny thrill through her. She had to admonish herself for reacting to him—she was supposed to be mad at him, damn it.
“By the way, you look good enough to eat,” he added.
The gold Versace gown she’d chosen to wear to the gala offered a plunging neckline, and she didn’t miss the way Trevor’s eyes smoldered as he admired her chest.
Stepping closer, she tilted her head back and met his appreciative gaze with a lick of her lips. “Then eat me, meu amor,” she drawled in her Paloma accent. Impulsively, she cupped his cock over his pants and gave it a squeeze. “I’m feeling hungry myself.”
Desire flared in Trevor’s eyes. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish, Iz.”
“Hey, that wasn’t Isabel. It was Paloma.”
He dipped his head and brought his lips right up to her ear. “Bull. Shit. That was all Isabel.”
Then he thrust his growing erection into her palm, a bold challenge that unleashed a flurry of shivers inside her.
She abruptly moved her hand. “We should go.”
His answering sigh was laced with weariness. “You always feel the need to hide yourself from me, to hide behind your characters, don’t you?”
“And you always feel the need to psychoanalyze me.” She scowled at him. “Or to go behind my back and visit my father in prison.”
Regret flickered in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I apologized last night, and I’m apologizing again now, but I didn’t go to Sing Sing out of pure nosiness. I was worried about you, Iz. You know, because you fell off the face of the earth for five months?” He shot her a pointed stare.
She experienced her own twinge of regret. “And I apologized for that too.”
“Good. So we’ve both apologized. Maybe now we can finish the conversation we started last night, about how you’re planning on walking away from me when this job is over.”
Damn. She should’ve known he wouldn’t let it go.
Trevor noticed her expression and responded with a stern look. “You’re not walking away, sweetheart. We’re good together, and you know it.”
“How am I good for you?” she blurted out. “Damn it, Trev, I’m the last woman you should want to be with. I don’t have a normal job. I can’t cook. I’m essentially homeless now that I sold my apartment. I’m a loner, so I can’t even bring a great group of friends to the table, unless you count female assassins. Half the time I don’t remember what I actually look like. I’m—”
“Listing your flaws isn’t going to scare me off,” he interrupted. “Believe me, I’ve got a list of my own.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he kept speaking. “We’ll talk about the future once this Meiro business is settled. Right now we need to concentrate on the present.”
Even though the inevitable was only being postponed, relief still washed over her.
“You’re right.” She grabbed her gold Chanel clutch from the table next to the couch. “The gala awaits us.”
• • •
Twenty minutes later, Julian and Paloma Martin strolled through the arched entryway of the MONA to attend the city’s most prestigious charity benefit. The museum lobby was spectacular. Vaulted ceilings soared above them, and a gleaming mahogany floor stretched beneath their feet. The corridors to their left were roped off, but the entrance to the Earth Sciences Wing bustled with activity. The gala was being held in the main room of the cavernous gallery, which housed hundreds of mineral specimens, including some of the world’s rarest stones.
Getting in had been no great difficulty. Thanks to a few phone calls to some well-connected associates, the Martins’ names were added to the guest list. All they’d had to do was present their IDs at the top of the massive limestone steps outside the building, and the armed guards manning the entrance had waved them inside.
Since the event was black tie, guests were dressed to the nines. Isabel had never seen so many sparkling jewels and designer gowns.
“Lots of VIPs here,” she murmured as she entered the party on Trevor’s arm. “Three o’clock—Princess Stephanie of Monaco.”
“And her four bodyguards,” Trevor murmured back. “Lots of firepower in this room.”
Unfortunately, none of that firepower belonged to the Martins. The metal detectors in the lobby made it impossible to bring a weapon into the building, but Isabel didn’t expect to need one for a simple surveillance job.
As they ventured deeper into the room, Trevor kept a possessive hand on the small of her back. All around them, the city’s well-dressed elite milled about, chatting, laughing, admiring the pieces in the massive glass cases lining the walls. Waiters maneuvered through the crowd with trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne.
Trevor grabbed two flutes from a passing waiter and handed one to Isabel.
“Cheers, baby.” As they clinked glasses, he lowered his voice. “Meiros are here. Eight o’clock.”
She shifted her head to the left. Sure enough, Tomas Meiro and his wife were standing near a display of gold specimens.
Meiro looked dashing as always in a crisp black tux, while his wife wore a high-necked black gown that gave her a washed-out look, her tight bun bringing out the harshness of her long features. The woman was truly unimpressive compared to her husband.
As Isabel looked away from the Meiros, she noticed several females in their midst blatantly ogling Trevor.
“You have a fan club,” she said before taking a sip of champagne.
“So do you.” His tone was flirtatious, but she caught the displeased glint in his eyes. “Every man in this room is drooling over your luscious tits.”
With a sassy smile, she came close to her fake husband’s side and stroked his arm. “I only have eyes for you, meu amor.”
Trevor brushed his lips over her cheek. “Come. Let’s see what our potential donation will be paying for.”
For the next thirty minutes, they mingled. Isabel oohed and aahed over an enormous jade slab from Austria. Trevor chatted with a group of businessmen from Florence. They listened to the MONA director drone on and on about how certain pieces in the museum were in dire need of restoration—therefore, it was imperative that everyone contribute tonight.
The entire time, Isabel kept a close eye on the Meiros. Tomas and Renee were doing their fair share of mingling, so it wasn’t surprising when the two couples eventually crossed paths.
“Look, meu amor, a bauble from my homeland,” Isabel said in delight as she and Trevor approached a case containing a rare topaz crystal from Brazil.
Trevor laughed. “Bauble? That crystal weighs more than you, baby. But I confess, it is beautiful.”
“More beautiful than me?” she teased.
“Impossible. Your beauty is in a league of its own.”
A chuckle sounded from behind them. “Ah, finally an American who’s mastered the art of flattery.”
Tomas Meiro stepped into view, his dark eyes homing in on Isabel’s cleavage before fixing on Trevor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to inte
rrupt. There aren’t many Americans in attendance tonight—I heard you speaking English and was curious about you.”
“It’s quite all right,” Trevor said with an easygoing smile. “You’re obviously fluent in English yourself, but I can’t place your accent. French?”
Meiro nodded, then looked at Isabel again. “And your accent is clearly Portuguese.”
“You have a good ear.” She cast that sensual smile she’d perfected over the years. “I come from Brazil.”
“What a coincidence—my wife recently visited Rio,” Meiro said, gesturing to the woman at his side.
Renee Meiro hadn’t yet spoken a word, but her brown eyes had been examining Isabel since the Meiros had joined them. Isabel was slightly unsettled under the woman’s scrutiny. It was too intense, and either she was imagining things or Mrs. Meiro was actually checking her out.
“Rio is a lovely city,” Renee said in a thick French accent. Something indecipherable flickered across her face as she eyed Isabel. “The people there are quite . . . intriguing.”
Isabel’s unease continued to grow. Okay. Both Mr. and Mrs. Meiro were staring at her now, each of their expressions impossible to read.
Shit.
Did Meiro recognize her?
“Where are my manners?” Meiro suddenly said. He extended a hand. “We haven’t been properly introduced yet. I’m Tomas Meiro, and this is my wife, Renee.”
Trevor shook the other man’s hand, familiarity dawning on his face. “Tomas Meiro. Are you the Meiro who owns the Crystal Palace Hotel and Casino?”
“One and the same.”
“It’s an honor to meet you. My wife and I have been hearing wonderful things about your hotel. We typically stay at the White Sands when we visit the city, but we might have to change that on our next visit.”
Despite the shrill ringing of her internal alarms, Isabel continued to play her part. “My husband is now the rude one,” she teased. “He has forgotten to return the introduction.”
Trevor laughed, seemingly oblivious to Isabel’s rising apprehension. “Forgive me. I’m Julian. Julian Martin, and this stunning creature by my side is my wife, Paloma.”
Meiro’s cordial expression didn’t change, but Isabel could have sworn the temperature dropped thirty degrees. Her inner warning system went haywire on her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Paloma.” Meiro reached for her hand, and as he brought it to his lips, an icy shiver skated up her spine.
He recognized her as Valerie.
That was the only explanation for the intensity of his gaze, for the way his eyes never left her face.
Shit.
After a beat, Meiro released her hand. “And what is it that you do, Mr. Martin?”
“Please, call me Julian. And I guess you can say I’m an entrepreneur.” Trevor’s eyes twinkled. “I own several businesses, but you won’t find me sitting behind a desk. I prefer to let other people take care of the everyday details.”
“My husband prefers pleasure to business,” Isabel said coyly.
Renee spoke up in a bland tone. “I’m afraid my husband is the opposite. All work and no play, right, Tomas?”
Meiro chuckled. “I will not deny it. Business does indeed come first.”
When his gaze drifted back to Isabel, she tried not to gulp. Crap. Those were the same words he’d said to Valerie the day they’d discussed the importance of the bottom line.
He knows.
Now Renee was watching her too. “That’s a lovely necklace, Paloma. May I?”
Bewilderment joined her anxiety as Meiro’s wife reached forward to lift the chunky gold necklace around Isabel’s neck. The chain held a square-cut ruby surrounded by a cluster of gold leaves.
As Renee admired the jewel, her French-manicured fingernails lightly ran over Isabel’s bare collarbone. “Wherever did you get it?”
“It was a gift from my late papa. An old family heirloom.”
The Meiros were staring again.
Isabel lifted her champagne flute to her lips and took a long sip, hoping she was continuing to give off the carefree vibe Paloma usually radiated. But every muscle in her body was coiled tight, and the alarms kept ringing.
Fortunately, the arrival of the museum director put an end to the odd encounter.
“Mr. Meiro!” the man said in delight. “Nous n’avons pas eu une chance de parler encore.”
“Jean-Paul!” Meiro greeted the director with a hearty handshake before addressing the Martins. “Please excuse us. We will speak again tonight, I’m sure.”
Isabel uttered a silent thank-you as the director whisked the Meiros away. The moment the other couple was out of earshot, she turned to Trevor, offered an overly broad smile, and said, “Something’s wrong.”
“I know,” he replied, proving he was an even better actor than she’d thought. He hadn’t given a single indication that he’d sensed anything was amiss.
“I think he recognizes me. Did you notice how he couldn’t take his eyes off me? And it wasn’t in a leering way. He was staring at me.”
“I saw.” Trevor let out a laugh, as if reacting to a joke she’d told. “The wife, on the other hand? Leering.”
“I got that same feeling.” Isabel took a sip of champagne. “You think she plays for the other team?”
“No doubt. The woman was looking at your breasts like she couldn’t wait to get her hands on them.”
“She’s not the one I’m worried about. Meiro knows it’s me.”
“I can’t see how. You look like a different woman, sweetheart.” Trevor’s dark eyes swept over her. “The makeup has completely altered your face—your nose looks longer, your jaw is more square, and your eyes even seem like they’re a different shape. Not to mention the skin color, the fuller ass, the way you move. You could walk past any member of the team and they’d be fooled.”
“Well, Meiro doesn’t look fooled.” She tried not to bite her lip in worry. “Shit, and now look at them. What do you think they’re talking about?”
Meiro and his wife were no longer with the museum director, but standing across the room in deep discussion. To anyone watching, their body language looked relaxed, but Isabel sensed the tension between them. Meiro’s smile was a little too tight, and Renee’s eyes went cloudy a couple of times.
“I think we might need to abort,” Trevor murmured.
“I agree.”
As a waiter walked past them, Isabel handed him her empty glass, waving her hand when he offered her another drink.
“Fuck.”
Trevor’s barely audible curse raised her hackles. She instantly figured out the cause—Renee Meiro was heading their way. Alone.
Isabel swiftly put on her party face, greeting Renee with a beaming smile. “Hello again,” she cooed.
Renee’s smile was more tentative. “Mr. Martin, I was hoping to steal your wife away for a moment.”
Trevor chuckled. “Oh?”
Meiro’s wife continued awkwardly. “The museum has acquired a new piece for the Hall of Gems, one I think Paloma will appreciate.”
Isabel feigned confusion. “I thought the other galleries were closed for the evening.”
“They are, but my late father was one of this museum’s biggest donors. Jean-Paul has agreed to let us have a private viewing of the gallery, if you wish it.”
Reluctance seized Isabel’s chest. She wanted to say no, but couldn’t see a way out of it. If Meiro wasn’t on to her, she didn’t want to anger him by insulting his wife. To make matters worse, Renee had stars in her eyes again, damn near confirming their supposition that Meiro’s wife was attracted to Isabel.
“Of course she wishes it,” Trevor finally said. His tone rang with delight, but the guarded look in his eyes told Isabel he wasn’t pleased about this either.
“Wonderful,” Renee said. “Come, then, Paloma.”
Isabel forced herself not to look at Trevor as she walked away with Renee. She could feel his frustrated gaze boring a hole between
her shoulder blades, but there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it, not unless she wanted to offend Renee Meiro and make Tomas even more suspicious.
No big deal. She would simply admire a few jewels, then excuse herself, find Trevor, and get the hell out of this museum.
“You’re going to adore this new acquisition,” Renee told her as they stepped into the brightly lit lobby.
Renee linked her arm through Isabel’s, her two bodyguards following closely behind. Neither man was tall, but they were incredibly bulky, boasting thick arms, barrel chests, and the noticeable bulge of weaponry beneath their suit jackets.
“Have you ever heard of the Lorena Sapphire?” Renee asked.
Isabel shook her head. “I have not.”
Their heels clicked on the glossy floor of the spacious corridor. The Hall of Gems would be around the corner, if the online map Isabel had studied earlier was correct.
“It’s one of the most beautiful sapphires in the world,” Renee explained. “More than six hundred carats, the most brilliant blue you will ever see.”
The turn was coming up, but Renee didn’t slow down. Isabel was acutely aware of the two guards walking behind them, but she couldn’t angle herself in a way that would allow her to keep an eye on them. Not without arousing suspicion.
Shit. Nothing about this felt right. She needed to find a way out. Now.
As Renee stalked past their destination, Isabel quickly gestured to their left. “Isn’t this the gallery we—”
It was just a pinprick.
A little sting to the side of her neck. A beefy hand clapping on her shoulder.
One of the guards had stabbed her with something.
A jolt of panic shot through her, triggering a rush of adrenaline. Isabel spun around, prepared to shove her elbow into the windpipe of the man who’d grabbed her, but whatever he’d pricked her with was fast-acting. Her vision went blurry so fast she couldn’t make sense of it, and when she tried to strike out, her arm felt like a lead pipe she couldn’t hold up.
She became aware of Renee’s annoyed expression, then a grunt from one of the guards, and suddenly the whole world started to spin.