The alarms blare through the luxury penthouse as red emergency lights pulse rhythmically, bathing the sleek modern kitchen in crimson waves. I press myself against the marble counter, heart racing, as Eliot's strong arm braces against the surface beside me, effectively trapping me between him and the cold stone. The hum of the ventilation system competes with the distant shouts of security personnel closing in.

"Hardison, we need an exit, now!" Eliot growls into his earpiece, his chest barely an inch from mine. I can feel the heat radiating from his body despite the professional distance he's trying to maintain.

"Two minutes! I'm rerouting the security grid, but those goons are already on the east stairwell!" Hardison's voice crackles with static in our ears.

Footsteps echo from the hallway outside the kitchen, growing louder with each passing second. Eliot's hand brushes mine as he reaches for a knife block, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. His eyes lock onto mine, a silent question passing between us.

"We need a distraction," he says, voice low and urgent. "Something convincing."

The implication hangs heavy in the air between us as the first security guard appears in the kitchen doorway, flashlight beam cutting through the pulsing red darkness.

"Freeze! Police!" he shouts, hand moving to his waistband.

Time slows to a crawl as Eliot and I share a look of perfect understanding. The con is about to take an intimate turn, and this time, I'm not sure where the performance ends and reality begins.

"Well?" Eliot murmurs, his face inches from mine. "You gonna kiss me, or do I have to do all the work?"