"I didn't know you danced."
Marcus's voice came from the doorway of the hotel suite's living room. Aria froze mid-stretch, her leg extended on the back of the couch.
She'd woken early because she was unable to sleep. The viewing wasn't until the afternoon, and her body needed to move.
"I trained at the Bolshoi." She straightened slowly. "Before I got into art history."
It was true. Most of her cover story was built on pieces of truth. Easier to remember that way.
"Show me your dance moves."
"Marcus…"
"Please." He moved into the room. "I want to see you dance."
There was no music. No proper space. But something about the way he looked at her made her want to perform for him.
She started simple. A basic warm-up sequence. Her body remembered the movements.
Marcus watched her with an intensity that made her skin feel hot. She could feel his eyes following every movement, every extension, and every flex of muscle.
"Christ." Marcus's voice was rough. "How is that even possible? You dance so beautifully."
She came out of the position and moved toward him. Let her body flow through movements that were more sensual than technical.
"Elena." He said her fake name. "What are you doing?"
"Dancing." She moved closer, placing one foot on the couch beside his hip, her leg extended. "Why? Is it distracting?"
His hand wrapped around her ankle. "You know exactly what it's doing."
She held the position, feeling the burn in her muscles and feeling his eyes on her body. "Should I stop?"
"Don't you dare." His hand slid up her calf, over her knee, higher. "Keep going."
She transitioned into another position, this one bringing her closer to him. Her flexibility had always been her greatest asset. In ballet. In combat training. And now, apparently, in this.
"You're incredible." His hands found her waist as she moved. "Every line of you."
She ended up on top of him on the couch. His hands roamed her back, feeling her muscles.
"I want you." His voice was rough. "Right here."
"Then take me."
He pulled her down into a kiss. His hands were pulling her sports bra over her head and shoving her leggings down her hips.
He gripped her hips. "Tell me you can hold positions."
"Any position you want."
His eyes went dark. "Are you sure you can keep that dangerous promise?"
He pulled her underwear aside without bothering to fully remove it, positioning himself. When he thrust up into her, Aria gasped at the angle, at how deep he went.
"Fuck." His hands gripped her hips, controlling her movement. "Hold still. Let me do the work."
She did, her thighs burning from holding the position as he moved beneath her. His hands were everywhere, possessing her. When he pulled her down for a kiss.
"On your back. Now." He demanded.
She moved, and he followed her down to the floor. The carpet was soft beneath her as he pulled her legs up, pressing her knees toward her chest.
"How flexible are you really?" He asked.
"You want to find out?" She asked.
He pushed her legs back further, testing her limits, and she let him. The position opened her completely. This made her vulnerable and exposed. His eyes were dark as he looked down at her.
"Beautiful." He pushed back inside her. "You are so fucking beautiful like this."
The angle was intense, almost too much. Aria's hands gripped his forearms as he moved, each thrust deeper than the last.
"Tell me if you start feeling uncomfortable." He said.
"Keep going; I'm fine with your pace."
"Good." His pace increased. "Because I'm not stopping."
He proved his point for the next hour. Had her in positions she'd only ever used in ballet. On her stomach with her back arched impossibly. Standing with one leg wrapped around his waist. Against the window with her leg extended on the frame.
By the time they finished, Aria's muscles were trembling, her body marked and satisfied in ways she'd never experienced.
"We're definitely doing that again," Marcus said, pulling her close on the floor.
"The dancing or the rest?"
"Both." He kissed her shoulder. "Definitely both."
They lay there until Aria's phone buzzed. She reached for it reluctantly.
A message from the hotel's service: A car is arranged for 1:30 pm.
"Did you arrange a car?" she asked.
"Yeah. I have meetings this morning that can't wait." He stood and started dressing. "But I'll meet you at the gallery for the viewing."
After he left, Aria showered and tried to focus. This was London. Where her family had died. She couldn't lose sight of why she was really here.
Her phone buzzed. Vera: Alone?
Aria replied to the message: Yes.
Vera: Good. We need to meet. Now.
Aria's stomach tightened. Vera never asked for in-person meetings unless something was wrong.
Aria: Where?
An address came through. A café in Kensington, not far from where her family's penthouse had been.
The café was small and quiet. Vera sat in the back corner, looking polished and dangerous.
"Sit."
Aria sat.
"You're getting too close to him." Vera didn't waste time. "I can see it in your reports. Or lack of them."
"I'm doing what you asked. Building a connection." Aria said.
"A connection isn't the same as attachment." Vera leaned forward. "You're sleeping with him. Multiple times. That wasn't part of the plan."
"You told me to seduce him."
"Seduce. Not fall for him." Vera's eyes were cold. "Are you falling for him, Aria?"
Aria wanted to say no. Wanted to deny it. But lying to Vera had never worked.
"I'm handling it."
"That's not an answer," Vera said angrily.
"It's the only answer you're getting." Aria met her eyes. "I'm doing the job. Everything else is a cherry."
Vera studied her for a long moment. "The viewing is this afternoon. The Vermeer. It's not real."
Aria blinked. "What?"
"It's a forgery. A very good one, but still a forgery." Vera slid a folder across the table. "This is the proof. Authentication documents that will expose it."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because Marcus doesn't know it's fake. When you expose it, it will cost him millions. Embarrass him publicly." Vera's smile was cold. "And prove where your loyalties lie."
Aria looked at the folder. Inside would be everything she needed to humiliate Marcus. To damage his reputation and his business.
"Use this," Vera said. "Prove you haven't forgotten why you're here. Prove you remember what he did to your family."
After Vera left, Aria sat alone with the folder. She could do this. She is supposed to do this. Marcus Thorne had ordered her family's execution. He deserved to be destroyed.
But her hands were shaking as she opened the folder and looked at the evidence inside.
And she couldn't shake the feeling that something about this was very, very wrong.
—---------------------------------
The gallery was exclusive. Marcus was already there when Aria arrived, talking to a man.
"Elena." He smiled when he saw her. "Perfect timing. This is David Chen, the current owner."
Aria shook hands and followed them to the viewing room. The Vermeer hung on the wall. A woman reading a letter by a window, light pouring over her face.
Her trained eye saw it immediately. The brushwork was too precise. The cracks are too perfect. Someone had done an excellent job, but it was still a fake.
The folder in her bag held all the proof. All she had to do was present it. Expose the forgery. Embarrass Marcus in front of the owner and everyone else in the room.
That will prove to Vera that she hadn't lost sight of the mission.
"What do you think?" Marcus asked quietly.
Aria looked at the painting. Then at Marcus. At the trust in his eyes. The way he looked at her, like she was important to him.
"Can I have a moment alone with it?" she asked. "To do a proper examination?"
"Of course." Chen nodded. "Take all the time you need."
They left her alone with the painting and her decision.
Aria pulled out her equipment. Ran the tests. Confirmed what she already knew. It was a forgery.
She could expose it by following Vera's orders. Could start the process of destroying Marcus Thorne. Or she could just lie about the authenticity.
Her hands were shaking as she put away her equipment and opened the door.
Marcus and Chen looked up expectantly.
"Well?" Marcus asked.
Aria took a breath. She made her choice.
"It's authentic."
The words came out steady. Marcus's face broke into a smile. Chen looked relieved.
"You're certain?" Chen asked.
"Completely." Aria met his eyes. "The brushwork is consistent with Vermeer's known technique. The materials match the period. It's genuine."
She'd just lied. Directly and deliberately. And she'd done it to protect Marcus instead of destroying him.
The realization of what that meant hit her as they finalized the details of the purchase. She'd chosen him over the mission. Over five years of preparation. Over her family's memory.
Marcus's hand found hers as they left the gallery. "Thank you. Your authentication means everything."
Aria forced a smile, but inside, she was screaming. What the hell had she just done?
Her phone buzzed as they got in the car. Vera: Well?
Aria stared at the message. Then typed: "The painting was authentic." Purchase proceeding.
Vera's response was immediate: You're lying. I know it was a forgery.
Aria: Your information was wrong. It's real.
Vera: Aria. Don't do this.
Aria turned off her phone.
Marcus squeezed her hand. "You okay? You seem tense."
"I'm just tired." She leaned against him. "It's been a long day."
He pulled her closer. "Let's go back to the hotel. I'll make you feel better."
And despite everything, despite the lies she'd just told and the line she'd just crossed, Aria let him. Because somewhere between the seduction and the sex and the moments of genuine connection, she'd stopped pretending.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.