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he had, Malachite would hit on me, I’d tell him to get lost and then I’d go back to RapidFire alone and take a long cold shower.
    I raised my glass to toast the table and chugged.
    Sure I would. Right?

6
     
     
    Sure enough, two hours and half a million sols later, I was back on RapidFire , flushed with victory and alcohol. Dragonfly had taken the loss well on the outside, with a brilliant smile and a promise to win it back with interest next time. I sure hoped the slimy bastard was seething inside. He’d been charming, I’d give him that. Attentive. Engaging. After a while I’d found it difficult to remember who I was supposed to be flirting with.
    Time for bed.
    My vision wobbling, I tugged off my stiletto heels and swayed toward my cabin, wishing I hadn’t downed quite so many martinis. I hadn’t realized I was this drunk. Lvovs creep up on you. They’re one of those evil drinks where you think you’re sober until you try to stand up.
    “Easy,” said Malachite, gripping my waist, steadying me and caressing me at the same time.
    Was he still here? Shit.
    I slid my arm over his shoulder for balance, but only succeeded in pulling him closer. He brushed his lips across my hair, tempting me. Damn, he smelled fantastic. I wanted to taste him, kiss him, forget what a pathological liar he is and ravish him senseless.
    “I can take it from here. God, Nikita, you smell good … I mean …”
    “Uh-huh,” he murmured, playing with a loose curl. “First, tell me what you’ve learned about Dragonfly.”
    “What?” I didn’t want to think about Dragonfly. All I could think about was the man in my arms and how good his tongue would feel in my mouth. I hadn’t had a real lover, one who knew me, since Mishka. And Nikita … Did I just say his name? Shit … Nikita knew everything.
    “Dragonfly,” he prompted, pulling hairpins out one by one and dropping them, teasing my hair free.
    It didn’t help me concentrate. “What, is this a test?”
    “Of course. Isn’t everything?”
    “Umm …” I tried to ignore him stroking my lips. I wanted to whisper his name, suck his fingers into my mouth. “He’s clever, confident. Not afraid to bluff. Thinks highly of himself.”
    “So?” He leaned closer, pinning me against the wall. Longing stabbed me, deep and delicious, painful. His gaze focused on me, the hot blue of summer sky, and his breath came deep and quick. He was doing a damn good impression of a man who wanted me, and a hot ache blossomed between my legs.
    “So … he doesn’t like to lose. His plan will be meticulous, whatever it is.”
    “Which means?” He pressed his hard thigh between mine, which made the ache worse.
    “Which means … he’s not played tarocchi six nights running for no reason … There’s something in that room he needs.”
    I couldn’t help inhaling his scent, pulling my fingers through his crisp hair to make him kiss me.
    But he pulled back, teasing me. “Go on.”
    “Umm …” I tried to imagine how I’d do it. I thought of Dragonfly, sitting there with his scotch and water and those ridiculous rings, so heavy on his narrow fingers. He hadn’t been paying attention to much except the game and my legs …
    “Shit,” I said suddenly. The rings. Nikita had clued me in first thing, but I hadn’t listened. Those rings weren’t platinum. They were stealthplated. Like one-way glass for transmissions, hiding him from view but transparent from his side. The bastard was collecting data the whole time. “It’s the ice. He’s probing the comms-jamming system to get the frequency map.”
    “Very good,” Nikita murmured, and our mouths met, tasted, explored. The desire in his kiss felt real enough. His hot, dangerous taste made me drunk with memory and anticipation. In my mind, I tied him to my bed and devoured every sculpted inch of him, hot and sweet and wet on my tongue …
    He slid tempting fingers into my hair. “Make love to me, Carrie. You know you want to.”
    My