Page 9 of Deadly Charade

“Ready for your close-proximity assignment next to a hunky FBI agent?” Violet asked. She tossed an all-too-slinky black dress on the queen bed near Kira, along with three similar options but different colors. Violet was prepared for any and every occasion.

“Relationships, fake or otherwise, aren’t your thing.” Thing became thang with Violet’s accent.

Kira pinched the lace of the frilly pink comforter gracing Violet’s bed. “Do you really think I’m going to fit in your fancy long black dress?”

Violet cleared her throat and tapped her foot, her hands on her hips. “I will not let you change the subject. Yes, we’re about the same size. But are you prepared to play housewife with the FBI’s most eligible bachelor?”

Kira rolled her eyes. “This is my chance to prove myself as a Special Agent. It gets me into the field. I don’t want to be stuck behind a desk in linguistics. This is a huge opportunity for a rookie agent. Turner probably had to get a million approvals to offer me this role.”

Violet rummaged through her closet, flinging shoes, pants, and dresses onto the bed. When Violet received a task, she went all in. Apparently the SSA’s choice of box dye wasn’t up to her rigorous beauty standards, so she’d ordered a delivery from a store that offered a higher-quality—and much more expensive—product. It had arrived just in time for Kira to dye her hair last night. That’s what she got for letting a former Miss America contestant dress her like some sort of Barbie doll. But Violet never talked about her pageant days. Ever. And Kira respected not dredging up the past—for herself or others.

“Still didn’t answer the question. Can you pull it off?” Violet’s voice held warmth and concern. “You’ll have to make people think you’re in love, as if you’re a genuine couple—create your own magic.”

“Oh, please. I was born an actress. Bryce and I will be just fine.”

“Bryce? Well, you got personal awfully fast with Agent Lambert.”

Kira huffed. “He told me I could call him by his first name, and I think we’ve moved past the formal names if we’re going to pretend to be married.”

“True. Just be careful, Kira.”

This mission had to go well. She needed to earn her position. Sure, she’d graduated from Quantico, but the ultimate test as a rookie—she despised that term—stared her in the face. She’d do everything in her power to ensure her first assignment succeeded, even if it meant pretending to be someone else for a little while.

Which wasn’t too much to ask. She knew how to blend in, go unnoticed. Her days in the orphanage taught her how to adapt to any situation. So this mission wasn’t that big of a stretch. She’d just have to play a role until the bad guys were put in jail.

But Violet had a point. How much did she know about Bryce? Having him that close for the duration of the undercover operation might pose a challenge. How were they ever going to pull off the kind of relationship a newlywed couple had? Surely everyone would see right through them.

Violet flung some sort of spandex-covered medieval torture device at Kira. “It’s not you I’m worried about. Does Agent Lambert know what he’s signed up for? I’ve seen how grumpy you can be in the mornings.”

“I’m supposed to wear this?” Kira stretched the fabric as far as it would go and rethought her undercover assignment. She wasn’t ready to play the role of socialite. Violet made it seem so easy, but with that much spandex, how was she going to breathe?

“Have you never seen Spanx before?”

“Apparently not.” She tossed the item in the open suitcase, silently vowing not to wear Spanx as long as she lived.

Violet tsked. “It’s how you’ll fit in my formal black dress. Which will knock Agent Lambert’s socks off for sure.”

Kira stretched on the bed and refluffed the pillows behind her. “I’m not interested in knocking his socks off.” Liar. “Nothing’s going to happen between Agent Lambert and myself. I mean, Bryce. Or maybe I should start calling him Brian. The bottom line is we’re both professionals. This assignment is temporary.” Who was she trying to convince?

Violet smirked and moved on to her makeup table, tossing tubes, brushes, sponges, containers into a different pink bag. “I just think you both will be in for some culture shock. Not only having to pretend to be married but sell it to the couple next door. They’ll need to believe it’s genuine if you expect to receive an invitation to the art auction.”

“Not telling me anything I don’t know,” Kira said.

Violet added a few remaining items into the suitcase and zipped it up. “Okay. Time for your hair. Do you trust me? I used to do hair and makeup for a few of my friends. But I’m better with a gun than a curling iron these days, so my skills might be a bit rusty.”

Kira snorted and stood. “Let’s do this. Make me look like a million bucks.”

Two torturous hours later, Kira had her eyebrows waxed, her hair cut—which now was a shade called light auburn—and her lips stained a deep shade of red. She donned the outfit Violet had left on the bed for her.

Kira emerged from the bedroom, trying not to stumble in the high heels. Everly’s jaw practically hit the floor. “Kira? Is that really you?”

Her friend’s awestruck words tickled her, but she didn’t dare laugh or she might fall over. She strode across the main room of the open loft, concentrating on staying upright. Even if she avoided a bullet during this assignment, the shoes might kill her. “Of course it’s me.”

“You look amazing.” Everly gave an approving gaze, and Violet grinned.

Kira stopped in front of the mirror that hung over the sectional sofa and stifled a gasp. She ran her hands through her chin-length hair. Light reddish-brown ringlet curls had replaced her long black wavy locks. With makeup and hazel-colored contacts brightening her naturally dark brown eyes, she’d transformed into someone else entirely. The outfit of black pants and a shimmery pale blue sweater made her feel like a new person. For a moment, she could only gape at the person staring back at her.

Hello, Katrina Beckett. “It’s amazing, Violet. You outdid yourself.”