“Not a fat chance.” Ignoring the fierce look Jerrick swung on her, Avily picked an imaginary piece of lint from her blouse.
Jerrick began to say something more, but Madam Love cut him off with a brisk hand wave. The woman abandoned her seat. Smoothing the skirt of her snug purple sheath, she perched on the front edge of her desk and scrutinized them intently before focusing the full weight of her stare on Jerrick. “There is something within you that resists all matters of the heart. A hurt that has scabbed over, though not entirely healed.”
He visibly stiffened but remained silent.
Madam Love transferred her attention to Avily. “You, on the other hand, have a tendency to wear your heart on your sleeve.”
Avily gaped at the woman. Am I that obvious?
“This isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Madam Love continued. “But it leaves you open for being easily wounded. And when that happens, you’re quick to temper and revenge.”
Jerrick grunted. “Shit, she’s got you pegged.”
Madam Love snapped her fingers, making Avily snigger at the pissy look Jerrick awarded the woman. “So you see how these two stubborn qualities force you to butt heads with each other? But there is also another unavoidable outcome when you produce that much friction—intense fire. It burns brightly within you both. Twin flames building toward inescapable combustion. You can choose to fight it, or let it consume you. Either way, it’s only a matter of time before Amora ignites the final fuse.”
Judging from Jerrick’s tight expression, he was determined to stick with the first option. Not that Avily was the least surprised. He’d made it perfectly clear where he stood on the matter of rocking the sheets fantastic with her.
His gaze turning frosty, he leaned back in his chair and stared Madam Love down. “I may be fae, but I don’t proscribe to any of that bullshit regarding Amora. Far as I’m concerned, she holds less value than the cheap metal trinkets being sold outside in her glory.” There was no mistaking the ripe sarcasm inherent in his tone upon that last word.
Avily winced, certain that Madam Love wouldn’t take kindly to having her namesake belittled so arrogantly. Rather than strike Jerrick dead with a withering glare, the woman granted him a radiant smile. “It is always the ones who protest the loudest who ultimately fall the hardest.”
Jerrick’s eyes narrowed, but he wisely kept his trap shut. Avily knew it killed him to do so. If not for wanting to stay within the Madam’s good graces, he’d probably say something unbearably rude that’d earn him a well-deserved kick in the ass, followed by an escort out the front door.
Madam Love folded her hands in her lap and eyed Avily and Jerrick shrewdly. “I think we should get started on your training immediately. There’s already been too much time wasted.”
Frowning, Jerrick straightened from his indolent slouch, his boot heels performing an ugly screeching noise on the polished wood floor. “I think you’re confused again.” He shook his head, his bemusement swiftly giving way to a scowl. “Goddamn Hammond. He was supposed to explain to you why I’m here.”
“Oh, he did. You’re looking to get inside Rapture, are you not? To locate a petty thief who might be after my dear friend Francesca’s private art collection?”
Biting back her snort of laughter proved one of the toughest feats Avily had yet accomplished. Talk about a brilliant piece of horseshit. If Madam Love only knew the truth—that Jerrick was most likely the petty thief he was chivalrously protecting Francesca from.
Adopting the most ridiculously feigned look of compassion to ever adorn a lying thief’s mug, Jerrick nodded. “It’s imperative this conversation goes no further than these walls. My undercover team of operatives has been on this scumbag’s tail for years. We can’t afford for him to catch on that we’re closing in.”
Undercover team of operatives? Damn, he’d really improved his slick con these last five years. She almost believed his load of malarkey.
“Oh, but of course,” Madam Love enthused, her perfect face flushed with conspiratorial glee. “I won’t breathe a word to anyone. Furthermore, with my vetting, you’re guaranteed access to Rapture.”
Jerrick nodded. “Good. Then I may not even need another female to get me in.”
Twin spikes of hurt and jealousy lanced Avily’s heart. He’d intended to replace her? She sucked in a trembling breath, hoping against hope it’d barricade the pain from exploding in her chest. Rat bastard was too good a name for him.
“Perhaps.” Madam Love’s expression turned calculating. “But I think perhaps two is better than one, in this case.” Eyes shining, she winked at Avily.
I really like her. Avily bit her lip to hide her grin.
Jerrick blinked before swiftly covering his discomposure with a ready and charming smile that displayed a blinding flash of his teeth. Ten to one he was battling the urge to grind them. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question. Avi isn’t prepared to take on a job of this magnitude.”
“Nonsense,” Madam Love decreed with a flick of her wrist. “I can tell she has spunk and fortitude up the wazoo.”
Well damn. That was enough to make her grin like a loony dope.
“Perhaps,” Jerrick conceded between clenched teeth. “But it doesn’t change the fact she’s not equipped for this particular mission, and she knows it.”
She met the unwavering conviction in his gaze, and bitter defeat hollowed her chest. No matter how hard she might try to convince him otherwise, he’d never believe her capable of partnering with him on this.
The pathetic part was she didn’t even know why it was so important to her. She hadn’t wanted to do it in the first place. So why did it feel like everything that meant a damn to her was being ripped away?
Because this job slipping through her fingers was akin to letting him down. Being a failure in his eyes. There, she’d admitted the bleak truth. Even after all these years, his praise and admiration was something she desperately craved to the depths of her soul.
She was a sappy moron. No doubt if he patted her on the head like an obedient pup, she’d smother him with exuberant licks and kisses.
Hell, she’d do that whether he petted her or not. Shame welling inside her like a homely beast deemed too hideous for daylight, she broke stares with Jerrick and studied the rug beneath Madam Love’s desk, pretending fascination with the pattern of colorful hearts when in actuality she was battling to keep her anguished tears in check.
“I’m sorry you see it that way.” A weary sigh fell from Madam Love. “Nevertheless, in order to acquire such a generous boon from me, you’ll do exactly as I say. Which means she will be partnering you.”
Jerrick’s coloring turned several shades beyond choleric red. Any hotter and an egg could have been fried on his forehead. “I told you, that’s out of the question.”
“Nothing is out of the question when you want something badly enough.” Madam Love lifted to her feet and patted Jerrick’s rigid jaw. “Maybe one of these days you’ll accept the truth of that.”
Chapter Twelve
Jerrick knew without a shadow of a doubt that he’d live to regret agreeing to Madam Love’s damnable terms. It became all too apparent when she led them into a dimly lit room hosting decidedly decadent décor. Every square inch of the space oozed sexual excess. He eyed the padded spanking bench, his fly suddenly snugger than it’d been a second ago. His already overtaxed imagination easily conjured an image of Avi, naked and cuffed, his hands gripping her hips and tugging her into his thrusts while his cock plowed into her pussy.
Smothering his groan, he tore his attention from the bench, his focus skipping over the nearby rack of dildos before stalling on the swinging mesh recliner suspended on chains. Stirrups and a matching pair of fur-lined cuffs completed the enticing tableau. Another vivid scene invaded his fantasies—Avi spread before him on the suspension chair, her honey the sweetest nectar on his tongue while he feasted on her. He’d take his time, until she was squirming and panting for him. Only then would he slowly feed his cock into her tight little sheath, watching her swallow him inch by inch, glorying in the silky ripple of her hot, wet flesh clasping him in a snug embrace.