A/N: Greetings, everyone!

Well, after four months, I'm back with a new story. Yippee! :)

This is different from all of my other stories (except my one one-shot) in that it's set in the present time. Although I prefer historical stories and plan on more of those in the future, a promise is a promise, and this prompt was one of the winners from the "poll" (of sorts) at the end of All That's Best. Anyway, I hope it's okay. :)

Also! Note the rating. Not only is this story set in a different time period from my other stories, but I also have decided that this story couldn't be written with any other rating than M, so I'm lifting my ban on writing...sexual themes...for this story *gulps nervously*.

Anywho, so, without further ado, the first chapter; enjoy!

It had been too easy. Too damn easy, thought Quinn Fabray as she surveyed the elegant ballroom of Finn Hudson's estate. The plan to get her into the employ of the wealthy banker had come together without a hitch. It had all gone like a perfectly choreographed dance.

The ease of it only made her edgy and more vigilant.

Some unseen sharpshooter had taken a wild shot at Hudson, and Quinn had been on hand to shield the tall man with what she could of her body. Instant gratitude and a generous job offer. Quinn had wondered, several times, why she hadn't shoved Hudson into the path of the bullet. Dead was a more sure-fire way to punish a man than the prospect of a jail term.

Only five days into the operation, and she wanted out. She had cursed herself a thousand times over for letting Leroy Berry coerce her into helping. The daily doses of Hudson's arrogance were more than she could stomach. The urge to strangle the man with her bare hands grew stronger every time she laid eyes on him.

Undercover work had definitely lost its appeal. The innate hunger for a challenge that had motivated her when she was a new agent was nonexistent now. She had left the FBI four years ago when the taste for intrigue died along with her partner.

Despite being on Hudson's payroll, she had yet to be contacted by the elusive agent with the code name Phantom. Her assignment was to help the undercover FBI agent escape Hudson's heavily guarded compound. Deputy Director Berry had lured her out of retirement with a promise that Phantom had gathered enough concrete evidence to make Hudson pay for his crimes.

Quinn was tired of waiting and at risk of losing her patience altogether.

"She's a first-class babe, ain't she."

Quinn glanced at her fellow employee. Noah "Puck" Puckerman was young, cocky, and a little dim-witted, but basically an okay guy. The two of them were usually paired as driver and bodyguard for high-ranking members of Hudson's little empire.

Tonight, they were enjoying the annual staff appreciation dinner. Hudson knew how to keep his people happy and loyal by pretending they were important to him. The ballroom's many chandeliers had been dimmed to a soft, intimate glow. Food was abundant, booze flowed freely, and a small orchestra played music for dancing.

Puck's admiring gaze was fastened on their hostess for the evening.

"You mean Hudson's fiancé?"

"She's a real knockout, and damn nice, too. Always doin' something for the staff and their families."

Nice wasn't exactly the word Quinn would use to describe Hudson's very young, very blonde girlfriend. Definitely a May-December relationship. Gossip had it that she had moved in with him as soon as they had announced their engagement. Apparently, he adored her and refused her nothing.

"I guess she can afford to be generous."

"Yeah, but I seen plenty of those rich bitches who turn their noses up at people like us. 'Fraid they'll get dirty if we touch 'em or somethin'. Jessica, she's not that way."

Quinn had never been introduced to the lady in question. Nor did she want to be. She couldn't summon much interest in a woman who would sleep with a bastard like Hudson.

"I don't think I will be getting up close and personal with the boss's fiancé."

The young man laughed. "That's what you think. She's makin' her way toward us now. She and the boss, they have this little routine. When he hires a new employee, she's the one that gets up close and personal. The boss gets a kick out of watchin' the hired help drool. She'll have you pantin' after her in a few minutes, even if you don't like chicks."

Oh, hell, thought Quinn. Puck usually knew what he was talking about when it came to his boss's habits. She ground her teeth in frustration. The last thing she needed was attention drawn to her, especially for Hudson's amusement.

Their hostess slowly made her way through the throng of partygoers, stopping to speak to several people as she crossed the room. Everyone wanted a word with the lady of the manor. Quinn watched her graceful, unhurried progress and steeled herself to suffer the short blonde's attention. It wouldn't do to make her distaste evident. Better to play the dumb but awed hired hand.

"Damn, but she looks hot in that red dress," muttered Puck. "Too bad she never strays for real. I'd be first in line to jump her delicate bones."

Hudson's fiancé was petite—probably five foot one or two, with a slender but generously curved figure. As she drew closer, Quinn's gaze drifted down her elegant neck, across the bare, unblemished skin of her shoulders and chest to an enticing view of softly rounded breasts displayed by the strapless dress.

The full-length evening gown managed to look both tasteful and wickedly provocative. Quinn would have to be dead not to react. Her heavy mane of platinum blonde hair parted in the middle and framed an oval-shaped face in feathery layers. Although not classically beautiful, Jessica's features were striking, attractive, and enhanced to perfection.

The best money could buy. She had to be an unprincipled gold digger who had sold her soul to the highest bidder. That alone should leave Quinn cold, but her body wasn't listening to common sense. It was just reacting.

Wide-set, exotically highlighted blue eyes captured Quinn's attention and held her gaze as the short blonde came to a stop in front of her. Quinn felt the impact of Jessica's gaze clear to her toes. Her expensive perfume teased Quinn's senses, and set her nerves alive with reaction. The sizzle of attraction hummed through her veins at the sultry challenge in those beautiful blue eyes.

"T.R.O.U.B.L.E." The lyrics to a country-western song popped into her mind. Hudson's ladylove packed a sensual wallop that could mean nothing but trouble.

"Ms. Jackson." She greeted Quinn by her alias and offered her hand. "I don't believe we've been introduced." Her voice was soft and sexy, barely audible above the noise of the party. "I wanted to thank you personally for saving Finn's life."

Quinn briefly grasped her hand, but kept her grip limp. Jessica responded with a warm, firm grasp. Her touch made Quinn's skin tingle with awareness.

Jessica smiled, transforming her features to unexpected loveliness. It gave Quinn another jolt. Not just because of the physical difference, but because of the genuine warmth and charm the shorter woman emanated. No wonder she had the staff ready to jump her bones or jump through hoops for her. Warning herself to beware of wolves in sheep's clothing, Quinn briefly returned the smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"There's no need to call me ma'am. We are all one big family here. My name is Jessica," she said, and then asked, "And your first name is Samantha?"

"Sam's fine."

For this assignment, Quinn was wearing a red wig. Thanks to tinted contacts, her hazel eyes were temporarily a deep green. Her naturally fair complexion had always made it easy for her to take on an Irish look.

"Well, Sam, I certainly hope you're enjoying yourself. Did you get enough to eat?"

"Yes, ma'am—I mean, Jessica."

She smiled again—a smile meant to reach right into someone and make them relax. Maybe even threaten their control. Quinn felt another unexpected zing of physical awareness, but hardened herself to the response.

"Do you dance, Sam?" Jessica asked.

She glanced toward Puck, who was giving her a cheesy grin and a sly thumbs-up behind Jessica's back. Then Quinn looked toward the dance floor. Several couples were shuffling around to a slow tune, but she wasn't eager to join them.

"I'm not much for dancing," she insisted.

Jessica curled her fingers around Quinn's forearm, smiled, and batted her lashes with the finesse of a siren.

"Please, don't be shy. I promise I won't step on your feet," she teased. "I would feel honored if you would share at least one dance with me."

Quinn glanced at Hudson. "Sure the boss won't mind?"

Jessica's husky laughter shivered along Quinn's nerves. "I promise the boss won't mind. He thinks it's important for a hostess to mingle with her guests."

She gently but firmly led Quinn to a shadowed corner of the dance floor, and then fitted herself snuggly against her body. Heat radiated through Quinn at every point of contact. Jessica's hands slid up her chest to settle lightly on her shoulders, and she tilted her head back to study Quinn's face.

Quinn returned her steady gaze while her sense feasted on the blonde's warmth, the sweetness of her scent, and the full, firm breasts pressed against her chest. Quinn slid her hands down Jessica's back to her waist and enjoyed the feel of the taut feminine body wrapped in soft, silky fabric. Her fingers tightened convulsively.

It felt good to hold her. Really good, yet disturbing. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong woman, her brain insisted while her body vibrated with pleasure. It had been too long since Quinn had felt such a rush of sexual response to a woman. Her deprived hormones were going haywire, but there was no sense fighting the reaction. Might as well enjoy the moment, she though with a mental shrug.

"Tell me about yourself, Sam," Jessica coaxed, sounding as though she really cared.

Quinn wondered if the attentive attitude was all part of a well-orchestrated game she played with Hudson. Her lover never made a move without a carefully thought-out plan. Did Jessica support him in his sick games? Would she tempt Quinn with her smile and body, and then chuckle about her response in bed tonight?

At the thought, a shaft of anger pierced Quinn, but she swiftly controlled it. Jessica's eyes widened a little, making Quinn wonder if the shorter woman sensed her tension. Maybe she would attribute it to sexual frustration.

"There's not much to tell," Quinn finally answered.

"Everybody has something to tell," she urged, subtly shifting closer to the redhead.

Quinn grew even more tense as Jessica swayed against her, held her gaze with her beautiful, beguiling eyes, and pleaded for a response.

"Everybody has likes and dislikes," Jessica said. "Favorite books or TV shows or movies."

When she failed to respond, Jessica continued, undaunted. "I enjoy movies myself, but I'm especially fond of the theater. Have you ever seen the classic Phantom of the Opera?"

Quinn froze. Her muscles locked and her mind went blank for an instant. "Phantom of the Opera." The code for recognizing Berry's undercover operative. She had been waiting for someone in the organization to use that phrase. A phrase no other member of Hudson's family or staff was likely to use.

She stared at the blonde's perfect, pouting lips, wondering if she had misinterpreted the message. The undercover agent's nickname, Phantom, registered in her mind, but she couldn't reconcile the fact that the beautiful, possibly treacherous woman in her arms was one of the FBI's top operatives.

Hudson's lover? Berry had said Phantom was deep in the organization, but this staggered the mind. Quinn couldn't imagine any agent being dedicated enough or reckless enough to sleep with the enemy. Nor could she imagine the deputy director condoning it, however badly he wanted Hudson brought to justice.

She had to be missing something.

Jessica gently nudged her into motion, and Quinn automatically took the lead again. She stared into her dance partner's blue eyes. Were they glittering with satisfaction, or warning? Was her expression taunting Quinn for her unprofessional reaction?

The blonde's smooth voice interrupted her thoughts. "Am I boring you, Sam? You seem to have gone into a trance."

Quinn didn't have to be a genius to realize she had blown her cover like a raw recruit. At least where Phantom was concerned. Allowing herself to be caught so totally off guard could get her killed. Might still get her killed if she didn't pull it together.

Quinn continued to stare at the shorter woman, studying the tan skin of her cheeks, highlighted with just the slightest hint of natural blush, the lips that glistened with lipstick as red as her gown.

She silently cursed Berry for setting her up to extricate a female agent. Her last partner had infiltrated Hudson's organization, too, but she hadn't made it out alive: Maggie – her partner, best friend, and lover. The thought of her made Quinn's breath hitch. Maggie had given her life for the job, and Quinn had never forgiven herself for not being there to protect her.

Jessica slid her hands around to Quinn's back and flexed her fingers against the bare skin there, the blonde's nails scoring her and jarring her back to the present.

"Cat got your tongue?" she whispered.

Her touch lit a fire beneath Quinn's skin, making her blood run hotter. Quinn fought the wave of heat and racked her brain for the code Berry had given to verify her own identity. She recalled the answer and recovered some control.

"I don't know anything about phantoms," she declared exactly as she had been coached. "I don't like that dramatic stuff. I prefer comedies, like Funny Girl."

Jessica's smile widened. She batted her lashes flirtatiously even though her eyes sparkled with keen intelligence. A paradox, to be sure, but could Quinn trust her? She continued to scrutinize every feature of the shorter woman's face, her mind still coming to terms with all that she had heard about Phantom, all she had learned about Hudson's fiancé, and what a hell of a tangle the whole assignment had just become.

According to her instructions, Phantom was the agent in charge of the rest of the assignment. Once they had made contact, Quinn had been ordered to let Phantom orchestrate the escape strategy. She waited, barely breathing, for the other woman to make the next move.

"I like you, Sam. I think I'll have Finn reassign you as my personal driver."

Her throaty announcement was accompanied by seductively running her hand down Quinn's back, just as the music came to an end. But the ploy to tease her backfired. Heat simmered between them; the intimate connection sparked and crackled. Blood sizzled beneath Quinn's skin, and she knew that Jessica felt it, too.

The blonde's brow creased at the undeniable attraction. Annoyance shimmered briefly in her blue eyes before being quickly replaced by iron determination, and then her more proper hostess façade.

In any other circumstance, Quinn would have laughed out loud at the telltale crack in her armor. Quinn wasn't the only one who had been caught off guard by a spark of desire. Maybe in the future Phantom would be more careful about teasing someone.

"What do you think, Sam?" she prodded, her tone edged with impatience. "Want to be my personal driver?"

"I would be honored, ma'am."

"Jessica," she insisted. Then she slipped out of Quinn's arms and strolled off the dance floor.

Quinn watched her closely, appreciating the gentle sway of her hips as she moved across the room, and wondering if she had just signed her own death warrant.

One thing was for sure: this assignment would be coming to an end soon. Adrenaline pumped through her veins at the knowledge. She had finally been offered a real challenge, to get Phantom out of harm's way and to the FBI's safe house. Berry had sworn the evidence Phantom had collected would be enough to nail Hudson.

Both prospects spurred Quinn's excitement, fueling a long-suppressed need. She could have done without the sexual jolt, but she was an expert at tamping down those flames.

"What'd I tell ya, Sam?" Puck met her as she left the dance floor. Handing her a cold beer, he elaborated. "She's something, ain't she? I'll bet that's the first time you ever held such a classy piece of sugar in your arms. You looked a little star struck."

Quinn glanced sharply at the man beside her. So Puck had noticed her momentary confusion. Damn. How many others had witnessed her involuntary reaction? She had been so distracted that she had lost objectivity. A good agent had to be observant at all times. Lives depended upon it.

Swallowing a long drag of beer, she comforted herself with the fact that she wasn't a field operative anymore. Now she was the owner of a small bookshop in a sleepy Colorado town who had been dragged back into service. Just a civvie doing a deferred duty. Her pride still stung, but she figured she could live with another dent in her ego.

"Hudson must be crazy to turn her loose on his employees," she finally said, wondering if the light insult to their boss would be tolerated.

Puck just chuckled.

"He's crazy, all right. If she was my woman, I'd keep her chained to the bed. Preferably in the buff."

Quinn felt a spurt of annoyance and disgust at the lewd suggestion, but she quickly stifled it. An explicit, erotic image followed, teasing her with a slender, shapely body all soft and naked and needy in bed. Regardless of her name or game, Quinn had to admit she wouldn't mind getting more intimate with her body.

For that reason, Quinn avowed sexy Jessica/Phantom off-limits. She prided herself on learning from her mistakes, and the biggest of her life had been getting involved with another agent. Her relationship with Maggie had sent up all sorts of red flags, yet Quinn had arrogantly ignored the warnings. Maggie's death had been an emotional blow she never wanted to repeat.

Foul play or fair, the lovely Phantom had prostituted herself to the scum of the Earth. Quinn believed in honor and duty, but not if it meant selling your soul to further your career. Nothing Phantom could do or say would ever erase the facts, and that dropped her desirability to zilch.

Jessica made her way back to Hudson's side on legs that weren't as steady as she would have liked. Her heart pounded, her breasts felt full and tight, and her skin was flushed with heat. The intensity of her arousal was unsettling. She didn't appreciate the way her body had come alive in a stranger's arms.

For most of her adult life, she had existed in sexual limbo, devoid of any burning desire beyond professional duty. She had met and dated a few men she found attractive, but none who had made her wild with desire. She had never been easily aroused and had resigned herself to the fact that she must somehow be lacking.

The emotional and physical reserve was an advantage to her career, if not her personal life. Now, all of a sudden and at the worst possible time, she had experienced the hots for a total stranger, and a woman at that. It had to be the mental strain and incredible tension of the situation, she decided, shaking her head.

She reached Finn's side, and he pulled her hand through the crook of his arm. His touch was cold compared to the soft, feminine heat she had just experienced. She repressed a shiver of revulsion.

Three heads taller than her, Hudson was of average build but fit, his spine ramrod straight. He had somewhat handsome, aristocratic features with brown eyes. His personal hairstylist made sure the color of his hair stayed the same dark brown, so that he looked younger than his sixty years.

His expression was affectionate and approving. She gave him a practiced smile that hid her true feelings. It wouldn't do for him to know how much she despised him, from his polished looks to his ugly black soul. When they had first met, it was all she could do to keep from recoiling at his touch, but she had hardened herself to that emotional weakness.

The past few months had been an ongoing nightmare. The only thing that kept her sane was the knowledge that it would be over soon. Hudson had destroyed her family, and now she had the evidence to prove it.

She forced herself to slip back into the role of fiancé and hostess. She had made it her life's work to bring him to justice, but the only way to do that had been to get close, really close. It meant drawing on incredible reserves of strength, and it got more difficult each day, but she had worked too long and hard to fail now.

"What did you think of the new girl?" he asked.

"She seems nice enough – a little lacking in personality, perhaps, but pleasant. Is she a good driver?"

"Nearly as good as Puck."

"In that case, you should have Puck driving for you again. You're on the road more than I am. If the new girl is good, then I'm sure I will be safe with her."

Finn patted her hand. "Your wish is my command," he insisted. "You'll be perfectly safe with Sam. She knows that I'm fanatic about my future wife's welfare."

She smiled, forcing her expression into one of warmth and gratitude. It was imperative that she keep up appearances. He thought her a well-bred, sophisticated socialite, so that's the part she had played for the past few months.

He had proposed to her in an effort to garner more respect. For Finn, image was everything. Respect was a living, breathing entity. He had spent a lifetime accumulating wealth and power in the hopes that it would buy him the respect he so badly craved.

That was why he had decided to pursue a partnership with one of North Carolina's oldest and most reputable import-export companies. He wasn't satisfied with ruling his own small empire. He wanted to prove his respectability to the whole community.

As a prominent banker, he was welcomed into many social circles, but he wanted a foot in the door of the most elite. He had been advised to marry someone who would be an asset to his home and social life. That's where she had stepped into the scene.

He boasted that he was a hardworking man who had realized the American dream. The story he gave the medial was one of rags to riches: a life so dedicated to work that he had had no time for personal relationships. In reality, his wealth stemmed from a lifetime of carefully coordinated crimes. He owned several offshore banks where he laundered drug money and practiced tax evasion.

But that wasn't why she wanted to bring him down. He had far greater sins to answer for. One was the murder of an undercover FBI agent. Another was the slaughter of a small, law-abiding family. Hers. She had put her life on the line to bring him to justice. And when she did, maybe, just maybe, she could shed a heavy burden of guilt that never seemed to ease.

Another glance at Finn sent a shiver down her spine. She wondered, yet again, whether he was somehow aware of her double life.

A/N: Oooo, intrigue...And Faberry meets already! Yay!

I hope you all liked this chapter! Chapter 2 to follow soon, hopefully! :)