Under His Cover

CHAPTER 5: DANCING WITH THE DEVIL

Morning broke over Monaco in a slow spill of golden light.
Evangeline woke up to the soft, rhythmic sound of ocean waves crashing against the cliffs far below the balcony. For a brief, hazy second, she forgot where she was. She felt warm, heavy, and completely anchored.
Then she realized why.
Alexander was still asleep beside her. His long arm was wrapped securely around her waist, anchoring her back flush against his chest. His breath was steady and warm against the back of her neck, his dark hair messy against the white pillow.
Evangeline froze. Every operational instinct screamed at her to throw an elbow back and put space between them, but the faint hum of the bedside lamp reminded her where they were.
Microphones.
She took a slow, quiet breath, carefully sliding her hand down to lift his arm off her waist. The moment her fingers brushed his forearm, Alexander’s eyes snapped open.
There was no grogginess, no soft adjustment period. His electric grey-blue eyes were instant, sharp, and focused, locking onto hers in the dim morning light. For a second, neither of them moved.
"Good morning, wife," Alexander murmured, his voice thick and gravelly with sleep. He didn't pull his arm back. Instead, his thumb brushed absently against the fabric of her silk camisole.
"Let go, Vance," she breathed, her voice so soft it didn't travel past the headboard.
Alexander stared at her for another beat, taking in her messy blonde hair and the sharp golden-hazel of her eyes, before letting out a quiet breath. He lifted his arm and rolled onto his back, tossing the heavy duvet aside.
"Time to play happy couple," he said out loud, his normal voice carrying smoothly across the room for the bugs to hear. "Silas expects us on the terrace in thirty minutes."
Evangeline sat up, running a hand through her hair. "I will get dressed first."
Twenty minutes later, Evangeline stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror. She wore a tailored crimson sundress that fitted her frame tightly, paired with simple gold jewelry. She was leaning over the vanity, fastening a delicate gold earring into her ear lobe, when Alexander stepped out of the bathroom.
He had pulled on a crisp linen shirt and dark trousers, looking relaxed and effortlessly wealthy. He walked up behind her, meeting her eyes in the mirror.
Without asking, he reached out and took the clasp of her gold necklace from her fingers.
Evangeline tensed, her eyes narrowing in the glass, but she didn't pull away. Alexander stood close, his chest almost touching her back as his warm fingers worked the small clasp behind her neck. His thumbs brushed the sensitive skin at the base of her throat, sending a quiet tremor straight down her spine.
"Checking for wires, or just enjoying yourself?" she murmured under her breath, keeping her lips barely moving.
"A good agent always inspects the target," Alexander whispered back, his breath tickling her ear. He fastened the clasp, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders for a second longer than necessary before he stepped back. "Perfect. Now you look like a billionaire's spoiled wife."
"And you look like a man about to get his jaw broken," she replied smoothly, turning around and picking up her clutch. "Let's go."
The stone terrace was bathed in bright sunlight, overlooking the endless blue stretch of the Mediterranean.
Silas sat at the head of a long marble table set with fresh fruit, pastries, and crystal carafes of juice. He was a man in his late fifties, impeccably groomed in a grey suit, with silver hair and cold, calculating dark eyes.
Viktor stood ten feet behind his chair, hands folded behind his back, looking like an immovable statue in the morning heat.
"Ah, the newlyweds!" Silas called out warmly as Alexander and Evangeline were shown onto the terrace by a butler. Silas stood up, spreading his arms wide. "Please, join me. I trust the flight was comfortable?"
"Exceptional, Mr. Silas," Alexander said, sliding out a wrought-iron chair for Evangeline before taking the seat beside her. He reached across the small space and casually rested his hand over hers on the table. "Though my wife here was furious with me for keeping her in Paris until midnight."
Evangeline let out a soft, elegant laugh, shaking her head. "He promised me three full days in Monaco, Silas. Instead, I spent my anniversary Eve in a board meeting waiting for him to finish signing contracts."
She turned her gaze to Silas, her golden-hazel eyes bright, warm, and entirely disarming.
Silas chuckled, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Men like us are married to our work first, my dear. A common flaw." His eyes flickered down to where Alexander’s fingers were loosely intertwined with hers, scanning the small gesture with surgical precision. "Tell me, how long have you two been together?"
"Three years," Alexander answered instantly, his tone relaxed. "Though it took me two of those years just to convince her to go on a second date."
"He was persistent," Evangeline added, giving Alexander a sharp, playful look. "And very persistent men are either completely brilliant or entirely dangerous."
"Sometimes both," Silas mused, taking a slow sip of his coffee. His dark eyes remained locked on Evangeline’s face. "Your background profile says you manage luxury art acquisitions in London, Mrs. Vance."
"I source rare pieces for private collectors," Evangeline corrected smoothly, not flinching under his gaze. "Which means I spend most of my time telling very wealthy people that they have terrible taste."
Silas let out a genuine, booming laugh, leaning back in his chair. "Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant."
Across the table, Alexander smiled, but beneath the cloth, his thigh brushed against hers in a silent, approving code. She had handled the trap effortlessly.
"Well," Silas said, dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin. "You are just in time. Tonight is my annual charity gala. Over three hundred high-profile guests will be here, and I insist you both join as my personal guests of honor."
"We would be delighted," Alexander said.
"Wonderful," Silas smiled. He gestured slightly with his hand, and Viktor stepped forward, holding a sleek black velvet envelope. Viktor placed it on the table right next to Evangeline’s plate.
"A small token," Silas said smoothly. "The gala is a formal masquerade. Inside is the dress code, your assigned entrance passes, and..." He paused, his dark eyes sparkling with something unreadable and cold. "...a personal request."
Evangeline reached out, her delicate fingers picking up the heavy envelope. "A request?"
"I host a tradition at my galas," Silas explained, leaning forward, resting his chin on his hands. "I open the evening's ball with the most striking woman in the room. I would be honored, Mrs. Vance, if you would give me the opening dance."
The air on the terrace went completely still.
Evangeline felt Alexander’s body go rigid beside her. His hand tightened over hers on the table—just a fraction too hard, a subtle flash of real, protective instinct breaking through his operative mask.
Silas was not just being polite. He was putting her in his physical space, isolating her from Alexander right at the start of the night.
Evangeline didn't hesitate. She offered Silas a breathtaking, confident smile, tilting her head.
"I would be honored, Mr. Silas," she said softly. "Just make sure my husband doesn't get too jealous."
"Oh, I am sure Mr. Vance can handle himself for one song," Silas replied, his eyes gleaming. He stood up from the table, buttoning his suit jacket. "Enjoy your afternoon. The tailor will bring your evening wear to your suite at four."
The moment they walked back into their guest suite and the heavy oak doors shut behind them, Evangeline pulled her hand away from Alexander’s.
They performed another quick, silent sweep—checking the lamps, the vents, and the terrace. The bugs were still live, but Silas’s team had lowered the gain for the day.
Alexander stood near the center of the room, holding the velvet envelope. His dark hair was slightly messy, his jaw set tight as he pulled out the formal card inside.
"What does it say?" Evangeline asked, walking up beside him.
"It's the gala schedule," Alexander said, his voice quiet and tight. He pointed to the gold lettering on the heavy cardstock.
Evangeline read the lines, her heart taking a sharp drop.
8:00 PM: Opening Masked Waltz — Host Silas & Mrs. Evangeline Vance.
8:15 PM: Security Lockdown & Main Vault Protocol Activation.
"He locks down the lower levels fifteen minutes after the opening dance," Evangeline whispered, her golden eyes darting up to his grey-blue ones. "The key will be on his neck during that dance."
"Which means you have fifteen minutes to steal the physical key off a paranoid billionaire while dancing in front of three hundred people," Alexander said. His eyes were dark, burning with an intense, dangerous light. "If you slip up for a second—"
"I won't slip up," Evangeline interrupted firmly.
Alexander stepped closer, grabbing the card in his hand so tightly the paper creaked. He looked down at her face, his gaze tracing her sharp jawline and the fierce determination in her eyes.
"He doesn't just want a dance, Eva," Alexander murmured, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous rasp that made her skin prickle. "He wants to see if you bleed under pressure. He's testing us."
"Then let him test us," Evangeline whispered back, leaning into his space, her eyes flashing like spun gold. "I'll get the key during the waltz. You get down to sub-level two."
Alexander stared down at her lips, then back up to her eyes, a slow, wicked smile finally breaking through his dark expression.
"Time to steal a fortune, wife," he whispered softly.