This fic is for my lovely beta Meaghan. Thank you so much for all the time you spend making my stories readable, you are the best. I really appreciate all you've done and your friendship. This is just something small for you to say thanks. Now for my two new beta readers you guys did an amazing job with this fic and I really don't know how to thank you enough, tinyPyscho77and abeautifulmessofcontradictions. Disclaimer: No I don't own the characters or The Blacklist. I haven't been writing for a while now, so would love to know what you guys think about the fic, so please review. ;)
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She was furious! Of all the covers he could have chosen, he had decided on the one that would most certainly make the carefully composed front she held towards him shatter. That was not the only problem...How on earth was she going to survive being this close to him for two full weeks? Not that she had any choice in the matter, of course; as per usual Raymond Reddington decided what was best for her. The weight of his overbearance rested heavily on her shoulders.
Almost as heavy as the weight of the huge, and absolutely stunning, diamond ring on her finger. The plain design with the enormous diamond of more carats she could even guess set in white gold made it an engagement ring that wouldn't be missed. The matching wedding completed it, making it a perfect set...almost like them.
She had to agree they looked great together as they followed the bellhop to their suite. Red was dressed in a dove grey suit and vest that made her heartbeat race when she stole glimpses of him. She knew she looked stunning herself in a stylish designer summer dress that Red had picked out for her; along with the rest of her wardrobe. Gone were the power suits she wore to work. She first tried to object, but he had insisted that he decide on their wardrobes, especially hers, because he was a man known for having a certain type of woman on his arm.
That part Lizzie was totally aware of. Oh, he had a type, alright, and it was the type of woman she would never even be in the same league as. Raymond Reddington only had 'tens' on his arm; women that were as beautiful as they were intelligent. The thought unsettled her a bit as the stepped into the lift. How was she going to pass posing as Raymond Reddington's wife when she could not even convince herself?
As if reading her mind, he placed his arm around her shoulder, tugging her into his side, a reassuring gesture that steered her out of the elevator to their home for the next two weeks. They walked into what looked more like a palace than a suite; no luxury had been spared.
"There you go, Mr. And Mrs. Reddington, your honeymoon suite. Everything is as you asked for, Mr. Reddington, but feel free to call if you need anything, sir."
Lizzie thoughts trailed off; she hadn't heard anything the hotel employee had said after 'Mrs. Reddington'. A strange feeling spread through her body as she heard those words...something that tugged on her heart strings. It may have been wrong but hell if that didn't definitely sound right to her heart. On those nights she had dared to drown in the feelings she held for them, she hoped to dream of a future for them. On those nights, she fantasized about what it would be like to be Raymond Reddington's wife; what type of husband he would be, what type of lover.
Well, she was going to find out in sorts, even though it was just pretending. She would need to keep her feelings for the duration of their mission; she couldn't let him discover what he meant to her. This was a mission and it needed to stay that way. That and nothing more, she tried to convince herself. She knew, however, that it would definitely not be easy. Hell, even not pretending to be married to him was hard, seeing that she felt warm and feverish every time he touched her, no matter how small the act was.
Then there were those nights, when they had been on the run, trying to clear her name, that they would stay up and talk for hours. Those small moments when she thought he looked straight into her soul. Like the day she told him about her fantasy, about her holding her little girl's hand with her husband. She could still see the shock on his face, the sadness, and something else she couldn't place. She thought about how his features maybe would have changed if she revealed that the man she had been talking about was him. She wondered if his face would have lit up in happiness or if he would have given her a sad, small smile with his word of rejection.
Red confused her; no matter how hard she tried to understand him or how close they came, she still felt she didn't know him at all some days. One minute, he would stare at the stars in the sky, telling her she was his way home, and the next, he would be keeping secrets and refusing to tell her what she wanted to know.
How was she supposed to know what to make of all that had happened between them?
The flirting innuendos, the way he would sometimes look at her; with that smoldering stareā¦. And then there were the times he was closed off to her; she couldn't get in no matter how hard she tried. He would keep her at arm's length when it came to the real Raymond, as if he was scared that she wouldn't like what she saw. He was hot and cold. She didn't see how she could survive being this close to him in that sense; she didn't know if she could survive him.
One thing she knew for sure, was that she would never recover if she let herself truly love him, only to lose him. She needed to keep her heart safe.
The twelve days to come with him were not going to be easy but she needed to get her head in the game. She already knew that there would be more physical contact then were used to. They were pretending to be on honeymoon after all. She was just going to need to keep it professional and not let it get to her. She could do this; pretend to love him while pretending not to love him.
She walked towards the huge balcony with the spectacular beach view. She could smell the ocean and somehow it made her calmer, the anger fading away. The island resort they were staying was beautiful. It was the perfect tropical escape and home to blacklister 142, owner of one of the biggest drug-operating businesses in America, with the drug money funding a well-known American Senator's campaign. If that wasn't bad enough, he was also an illegal arms dealer and had just recently invented a new drug called JAB2 which had caused over 350 deaths in the last two months.
The drug apparently gave an incredible experience but it was highly addictive. The drug had popped up on the DEA's radar due it it's impossibly high kill-rate. Most users became highly addicted after their first hit and died a painful death if they were not able to obtain the injections regularly. The drug's sophisticated infrastructure was designed to attack the user's own body if it wasn't' supplied with a steady stream of the amphetamine, making it virtually impossible to quit. Though its street value was high, JAB2 already had a high circulation in clubs and frat parties, causing a great number of fatalities.
They needed to get proof of his operations so they could take this bastard, and his drug, off the streets. The plan was for her and Red to be on their 'honeymoon' at his hotel and get invited to his grand party on Friday night. They needed to establish a relationship with the blacklister by creating a reason for him to approach Red for an investment in his business. They needed to get their hands on the evidence to put him behind bars, which had previously been impossible; no one even knew his identity. Leave it to Red to come by such information. She thought to herself, it was probably one of the many perks of being a criminal. She again realized there was no end to this man's resources while he tipped the hotel employee a generous amount.
The bellhop gone, Liz realized they were alone and Red was cheerfully telling one of his he came to stand next to her at the window, looking out over the ocean.
"I think I'll pour us a drink; after all, we've got something to celebrate." He grinned and walked to the bar.
That's when she saw it: the champagne, the oysters, and the chocolate-dipped strawberries placed on top of the bar counter as if on parade. What the hell was that? Did he think...? No, she didn't even want to go there.
He poured them each a glass of expensive French champagne. He handed her a glass and came to stand near her.
She turned to face him as he handed her a glass.
"May there be many more years for us, and each as amazing as you, Mrs. Reddington." His voice was like gravel, it made what he said even more intimate than the mere words.
"Red, this is not real and you know it. So, I don't know what your game is, but I'm not playing." Her voice was sterner than she meant it to be but it made it seem that his words had no effect and for that she was grateful. He couldn't know how they affected her, even though he was just playing his part.
"There's no game, Lizzie, just a play and you need to do your part." He sounded slightly irritated by her insinuation.
When she didn't respond, he continued.
"I do, however, think that this is an excellent opportunity to get learn about each other on a more personal level and I think we could enjoy ourselves. It doesn't have to be all work and no play, or maybe it does because, in this case work and play can mean the same thing, you know." The saucy grin on his face made him look like the cat that just ate the cream.
He was right, in their situation work and play would be the same thing, until they established a relationship with the Blacklister. They would have to sell their parts so there would be nothing specious about their presence on the island. She began to worry a little; they never discussed how far this pretending would go.
She took a deep breath and turned away from him, needing to put some distance between them. "So, what is the plan, Red?" She rested her arms on the balcony railing a few feet away and looked at him expectantly.
He chuckled and took a sip of his champagne. "Well, Lizzie, let's first get the elephant out of the room, shall we?"
"What are you talking about?" She stared at him in confusion.
"I'm talking about your deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression when you first saw the champagne, and the food." He stepped towards her, "Before you try to tell me otherwise I did notice. It looks like I've got the perfect seduction planned and everything that is needed to spend the first night of our honeymoon in style. If you thought that then I'm pleased to know you got the picture."
She was certain she had heard him wrong because there was no way Red just told her he arranged all this to get her in the mood for their first night. Did he really plan to lie her down on that incredibly soft-looking white rug, eating oysters and drinking champagne, laughing, flirting, and acting like a real couple on their honeymoon? Did he think that they would end up feeding each other chocolate strawberries, licking the chocolate from each other's fingers before they couldn't keep their hands off each other any longer and lose themselves in the hunger that had nothing to do with food? Was he going to carry her over their bedroom's threshold and worship her body like it was an altar?
Her heart began to race as her mind drifted off; conjuring up images of all the things he would do to her, the things she would do to him, the things they would do to each other. She thought that if this was, indeed real, then she would feel differently towards him. She imaged them eager to feel each other, to touch and taste each other. She imaged them returning to fetch the treats on the bar counter long hours after, absolutely famished from making love for hours.
She needed to get her mind out of the gutter. There was no way that she was going to let him take her to bed for a mission's sake. That was not necessary to maintain their cover, right?
"You can't be serious; there is no way in hell-" He cut her off.
"Lizzie, if you thought that, it means they thought that and that's the plan, correct? If they thought that this was the perfect romantic setting for us and the intentions were clear as to what we would be doing, then we're succeeding in our cover. I gathered from my informants that our Blacklister, Stefan Roswell, keeps close tabs on all his guests. Employees report their behavior and then they log it and send him a report on a daily basis."
She felt herself blush at her absurd thoughts that he was going to seduce her. It made perfect sense why he did what he did. She felt embarrassed that she had jumped to conclusions.
"That makes sense, yes." She didn't know what else to say, she lowered her head feeling oddly stupid.
"Besides, Lizzie, if this was real, there's no way I was going to let you enjoy that food. I would be feasting on you."
Her head snapped up in surprise. His matter-of-fact statement surged through her like fire. Wait, did that mean that he had thought about it? About her, in that way? Did he also imagine, late at night, them tangled in the sheets? He was probably just messing with her, like he always did. No reason for her to get her hopes up.
"I have no doubt that they will be checking up on us, We are going to need be convincing, and not just when we think they are looking, but all the time. They have other people planted as well, acting as guests themselves. We won't know when they do, in fact, have eyes on us." he downed the rest of his champagne. "I did, however, ask Dembe to sweep our suite; there were no bugs or hidden cameras found, which means that we can talk freely in here."
"We are going to need to share the bed. There are comfortable couches I would have offered to sleep on, like the gentleman I am, but unfortunately that won't do in this case." he strolled over to her, their bodies less than a foot apart. "We can't risk the hotel staff seeing when they are making their rounds, making the assumption that we are not sleeping together. That would raise questions and blow the entire op. Furthermore, in public we will always be holding hands and touching...as we are, of course, two people madly in love." he leaned towards her, his lips barely brushing her ear, "Think you can handle that, Lizzie?"
Oh, she could handle that all right, because it wasn't necessary for her to act. She had fallen in love with a long time ago. She didn't know exactly when it had happened, but it had. Somewhere on along the line, she had begun to see him as a man and not the number 4 on the FBI's Most Wanted list. She had begun to appreciate the smooth perfection of his skin, the softness of his hand on the small of her back, the deep green of his eyes when he turned his gaze on her. She didn't even want to think about the things his deep voice did to her. Her feelings had only intensified when they were on the run together and it had long since become difficult to keep them a secret.
"It's not ideal, but I understand that it's necessary. I'll do my part." She tried to keep her voice as casual as she could.
"Are you sure, Elizabeth? You still have time to back out of this."
"I'm sure, Red. This man needs to be stopped." She squared her shoulders, lifting her chin determinedly.
"Lizzie, we are going to need to be comfortable around each other."
"Fine." How was she going to be comfortable around him when he would always be touching her that way and looking at her like that?
"Kiss me, Lizzie," he demanded suddenly, his voice an octave lower than usual.
"Excuse me, what?" Lizzie coughed as she choked on her champagne.
"You heard me. Kiss me. I'm not going to have our first kiss in public." his indignant tone didn't match the intensity in his eyes.
Lizzie stared at him in shock while he looked at her expectantly.
"You can't be serious, Red."
"Oh, I've never been more serious, sweetheart." He got even closer to her, his hand ghosting beneath the curtain of her hair, inches from her neck. "You see, I need to know that you will be able to portray your role of a newly-wedded wife who can't keep her hands off her husband...off me." His voice was seduction, like a rich dark chocolate and it made her flush. His fingers curled against her flesh, drawing her nearer.
"I don't see any reason to start now. Lizzie sputtered, trying to back away. Roswell isn't here at the moment and I can assure you I will be perfectly capable of doing my job when the time comes." Her heart objected to the emphasis she placed on the word 'job', reading the lie in her words.
"Now, now, Lizzie," he cajoled softly, "if you can't even handle pretending when it's just the two of us, how are you going to keep up the front for the next two weeks?" The fingers slid to the nape of her neck, caressing her skin. "I hope I don't need to remind you how many deaths he is responsible for and the seriousness of the situation. I can't have you acting like a teenager when..."
Lizzie cut him off by stepping forward and pressing her lips to his for a chaste kiss. She pulled back, but before she could retreat, Red grabbed her hand and pulled her into his chest. She let out a soft gasp in shock. He placed one hand on her hip and the other he brought up to stroke a strand of dark curls behind her ear.
"See, that's exactly what I was afraid of. That's not how I kiss a woman. And that's not how a woman kisses me." His voice was low and it made her shiver involuntarily.
Lizzie was too stunned to utter another word. She didn't know if it was because her lips still tingled from that mere second they had touched his, or the way his thumb stroked alongside her jaw or his seductive words, that had her mesmerized. She didn't get the chance to dwell on it further, because Red dropped his mouth down to hers and slowly pulled her in for his kiss.
All logical thoughts left her mind when his lips closed over hers, soft and tender. His lips were even softer than she had imagined on the nights when she couldn't keep her feelings at bay. His hands were strong, but his touch was soft, keeping her in place. The world she knew ended and, at the same time, her life began with his kiss.
He slowly coaxed her lips to dance with his and it wasn't too long before his tongue was tracing her bottom lip, begging for entrance. She was helpless to resist and opened her mouth to him; her hand came to rest against his chest.
When his tongue touched hers for the first time, she did her best to keep her moan to herself but it was lost in his mouth. He pulled her even closer to him, the hard contours of his body digging into her softer ones. When their tongues began to stroke and dance, she grasped at his shoulders before her knees gave out at the intensify of his kiss.
His grip on her hip tightened while he sucked lightly on her bottom lip; making her even more light-headed. He slowly broke the kiss, coming up for much-needed air. He pulled back slightly so she was able to stare into his eyes but his hand didn't leave her cheek.
"That's how I kiss my wife." His voice was husky and it made heat spread through entire body.
