Of course. The mission. The cover story. The reason he was here in the first place.
Not because he wanted to be pressed against her in a room full of strangers, but because she’d asked him to pretend.
“Right.” Rue inhaled sharply, straightening her spine. “Mingling. That’s why we’re here.”
She stepped back, putting more distance between them than Elliot had. It seemed like the safest option, considering she’d been just seconds from climbing him like a tree.
“So, update on the situation,” she said, forcing her voice into a businesslike tone. “Three different people have asked me about security protocols and storage facilities at the research station tonight. None of them are affiliated with the scientific team.”
Elliot’s expression shifted, all traces of heat replaced by the tactical focus she’d been counting on when she’d called him. “Names?”
“You think I got their names?” She snorted and sipped her energy drink, grateful for the jolt of caffeine to clear her head. “Silver Fox by the bar, Tech Bro with the wandering hands, and Emerald Lady who just walked away. They’re being subtle, but they’re definitely fishing.”
“Names would’ve been more helpful.” Elliot’s gaze swept the room, cataloging faces with that computer-like precision of his. “Any familiar faces?”
“No Praetorian operatives I recognize, but these aren’t field agents we’d be dealing with. These are the money people.” She nodded subtly toward a group near the windows. “The one in the navy suit has been watching us since you arrived.”
Elliot didn’t turn to look. Instead, he pulled her closer, his arm sliding around her waist in a move that looked possessive to anyone watching. To Rue, it lacked the heat of their earlier interaction and felt performative.
She didn’t want to explore why that put an uncomfortable knot in her throat.
It was supposed to be an act.
It wasn’t real.
It. Wasn’t. Real.
four
The clinkof crystal against crystal cut through the ambient chatter as Atlas Frost raised his champagne flute, commanding the room’s attention without raising his voice.
“To courage and curiosity.” His voice carried effortlessly across the penthouse. “May our expedition into one of Earth’s last frontiers yield discoveries that change our understanding of the world.”
The crowd murmured their agreement, glasses clinking as the toast concluded.
Elliot kept his expression neutral as he lifted his own glass, noting how Frost’s eyes didn’t match his smile. The toast seemed innocuous enough, but something in the phrasing—“our expedition”—grated against his nerves. As if Frost would be there with them instead of safely ensconced in his Manhattan penthouse while they battled sub-zero temperatures and whatever Praetorian had planned.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Rue’s voice was low, close to his ear, her breath warm against his skin. Her perfume—faintly tropical—momentarily distracted him.
Jesus. He needed to focus.
He gave his head a shake and scanned the room again. “Tell me about the expedition team.”
“All right.” Rue angled her body toward his in a way that looked casual but kept their conversation private.
“That’s Dr. Simon Keene,” she said, nodding toward a tall man in his late fifties with wire-frame glasses and a slightly distracted air. He was flanked by two college-aged kids who were clearly in awe of the setting. “He specializes in studying microalgae trapped in sea ice. Totally harmless. I don’t think he even knows what room he’s in half the time. Those two with him are grad students, Tyler Grant and Mia Chen. I had one of my dad’s guys run background checks on all three of them. They’re all clean.”
Good to know. If Gabe Bristow’s man had vouched for them, they were probably clean. Gabe wasn’t just Rue’s father—he was a legend in special operations circles, and his intelligence network was second only to Wilde Security’s.
Next, Rue nodded to a man in a black suit standing near the bar, posture rigid and watchful. “That’s Noah Braddock. Officially, he’s a geologist. Unofficially? I’d bet money he’s Praetorian. Or at least he works for whoever Frost answers to. He definitely doesn’t look like a scientist.”
Elliot studied Braddock without appearing to look directly at him. He’d worked with enough operatives to recognize one on sight, and the man had the unmistakable bearing of military—or at least paramilitary—training.
“He’s the reason you called me?”
“Yeah, part of it,” Rue confirmed and frowned slightly as she took a sip of her rocket fuel. “He jangled some alarm bells.”
“What’s the other part?”
