The Amifund masquerade ball at Lark Hotel was not supposed to be this exciting. 

Locked in combat with her opponent, Cherry’s auburn hair swished over her pale skin, emphasizing an ample decolletage. Opposite her, the masked man with the sandy hair and tan skin, grinned. His green eyes glittered as he shifted his grip, locking his gaze with her brown ones.

“Ow,” she huffed at him. “If you pull any harder, you’ll break my arm.”

“Stop trying to kill me then,” he grunted, evading the slender white leg that shot up and nearly booted him in the face.

“If I wanted to kill you, do you think we’d still be talking?” came the sardonic reply. 

He shifted, trying to hold on to her, but she was slippery like a fish.

“Also, do I look like someone lacking finesse?” she asked, somehow twisting out of his grasp.

A soft click told him that a toe blade had just slid out of her shoe, and he bent backwards, narrowly avoiding the swift schwing as her delightfully small foot skimmed over his face.

He chuckled, grabbing for her ankle. 

He yanked and she leaned.

They paused for a moment, like two dancers: his hand spanned the small of her back, while he hovered over her, bowing her supple body, while her leg slid straight up his shoulder as if they were lovers in a deadly tango.

Amused, she hooked her knee over his shoulder in a rather compromising position. 

Eyes glowing, they assessed each other with a coolness born of experience.

Her lips twisted up coyly and he secretly admired her boldness. All he had to do was move his hand and he would be touching her ever so intimately...

But her eyes suddenly became business-like.

“Look - I don’t do blunt trauma,” she drawled. “I prefer knives and I prefer it clean. Taking my height into consideration, to get the force required to split the skull down to the nose that messily would require me to stand on that table over there. There’s no way I’d want to do that in three-inch stilettos.”

“That’s perfectly logical,” he agreed and graciously released her. “Well, aren’t you a cool one,” he remarked, straightening his tie.

Annoyed, she rubbed her wrist where he’d bruised her and arranged herself into an armchair, contemplating the mess on the floor.

“The assailant was probably male and inexperienced judging from the state of the body. It wasn’t premeditated, probably a crime of passion...” she said, cocking her head.

“Mmmn. I’d have to agree with that assessment. You’re an agent then?” he asked, leaning against a side table and massaging his aching neck where she’d chopped him.

They smiled politely at each other behind their masks, still in place despite the earlier interchange.

“No. You? You’ve got ‘agent’ written all over you.”

He chuckled.

“To think I’d meet an assassin at the Amifund’s masquerade ball,” he mused, skirting her question.

“Actually, I prefer to think of myself as a special contractor...” she corrected.

He stood, nudging the body with his foot.

“This was a special contract?”

“This has nothing to do with me...so now that we’re clear on that, I’ll bid you a good evening.”

He was on her before she could rise. He deliberately put his hands down on either side of the chair and then dropped his mouth to her ear.

“I thought we could take this to a different room and get reacquainted...Cherry.”

“Dammit!” she hissed, realizing too late why he had seemed vaguely familiar. “It’s you!”

He grinned at her horrified expression.

“Care to explain why you left me all alone after that passionate night in Sarajevo?” he asked.

“You need a dictionary!” she snorted, ducking out from under him, heading towards the door.

He grabbed her arm and swung her around, pulling her tight against him.

“Why would I?” he chuckled.

“So, you can look up the meaning of ‘one night stand’. Or are you unfamiliar with that term?” she glared up at him.

“Darling...I am indeed unfamiliar with that term. When I sleep with a woman, I play for keeps... and I mean to continue where we left off that night...” he purred.

“You’re crazy!” she spat, struggling.

“My gorgeous lady...you have no idea...” he grinned, eyes filled with a devil’s promise. “Shall we?”

Without waiting for her reply, he hoisted her up in his arms and carried her down the hallway. 

Cherry didn’t spare a thought for the corpse they’d just left…after all that would be someone else’s headache by tomorrow. Instead she looked for an opportunity to escape.

“Well, you’re certainly no gentleman, Mr. Chocolate…”she sniffed, when he tossed her onto his bed.

“Who can blame me for wanting to top my evening off with a cherry…” he murmured, loosening his tie.

“Smartass…” she glared, looking for an escape route.

“Indeed,” he responded graciously as he tied her up.

“You’re going to regret doing this…” she gritted.

He smiled wickedly as his lips descended to hers.

“Oh…I’m sure I will…” he agreed, unrepentantly.