The Ghost Heiress: My Dangerous Double Life

The guards were ten feet away. Serena put a hand on the velvet-roped railing and vaulted.

She fell through the air, the bass vibrating in her teeth. She landed in a crouch on top of a massive speaker stack in the center of the dance floor.

Screams of surprise rippled through the crowd.

Serena didn't hesitate. She slid down the side of the speaker and vanished into the mass of writhing bodies. She ripped the platinum wig off, stuffing it into her jacket, shaking out her natural dark hair.

"Lock the doors!" Julian's voice cut through the noise. He was moving, pushing through the crowd with terrifying purpose.

Serena saw the side exit. Blocked. Preston was standing there. The front? Wall of meat.

She needed cover. She needed a shield.

She saw him. The man from the shadows. Tall, commanding, radiating an aura that made people instinctively step away from him.

Julian. The man from the file. Her fiancé.

He was scanning the faces, his eyes narrowing. He was the hunter.

Serena ran. Not away from him, but at him.

She collided with his chest. It was like hitting a marble wall.

Julian's hands came up instinctively, gripping her waist to steady her. Her waist was impossibly thin beneath his fingers.

"Help," she gasped, pitching her voice high.

A guard pointed a flashlight beam toward them. "There! The girl in black!"

Serena looked up. Her eyes, framed by the silver mask, locked with his. They were wild, desperate, and mocking.

"Excuse me," she whispered.

She went up on her toes. She grabbed his lapels and pulled him down.

She smashed her lips against his.

Julian froze. His brain short-circuited. He expected a fight, a weapon. He didn't expect the taste of mint and adrenaline.

He didn't push her away. He couldn't. Her mouth was demanding, hot, and soft.

Serena's hand slid inside his suit jacket. The safest place is on the enemy. She slipped the cold, metallic drive into his inner pocket.

The guard stopped, lowering his flashlight. "Mr. Sterling? Uh... sorry, sir."

No one interrupted Julian Sterling when he was with a woman.

Serena broke the kiss. She lingered for a second, her forehead resting against his chin. Her breath hitched.

"Keep it safe for me," she murmured against his neck.

She spun, using his body to block the guard's line of sight, and ducked into the service corridor that Julian had just emerged from.

Julian stood there. He raised a hand to his lips. They were tingling.

He reached into his pocket. His fingers brushed against cold metal.

Preston ran up, breathless. "Sir? Are you injured? That woman..."

Julian pulled the drive out halfway, then shoved it back down. A slow, dark smile spread across his face. It wasn't a nice smile.

"No," Julian said. "I'm not injured."

"The guards are asking if they should pursue."

"Let her go," Julian said. "She's a friend."

In the alleyway, Serena leaned against the brick wall, gasping for air. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Jax pulled up. "Got it?"

"It's safe," Serena said. "But I have to go back for it."

She closed her eyes, the image of the man's face burning behind her lids. High cheekbones, gray eyes, a scar on his eyebrow.

She groaned, sliding down the wall.

"What?" Jax asked.

"I just French-kissed my fiancé."