Chapter 6 #2
And maybe that thought made her a terrible person who would be an even more terrible wife.
“You deserve to be happy,” Nyx said softly and not for the first time. “But we might have to settle for you being safe.”
“I’d enjoy safe, though I doubt anyone in territory leadership is ever truly safe.”
Nyx shrugged. “Maybe. Now play a phone game.” She stood, head once more cocked in consideration. “Or read some porn? Get yourself in the mood.”
“I’m not going to read porn.”
“You should. It will help if you’re aroused when he gets here.”
Nikolett bared her teeth at her friend in a pseudo smile. “Vice Admiral?”
“Yes, Admiral?”
“Go away.”
Nyx snickered as she left, leaving Nikolett alone with her thoughts.
Thoughts that weren’t entirely pleasant company.
Nikolett tried to distract herself with reading and replying to email on her phone, but that just made her long for her laptop.
She tried a phone game but got frustrated with the ads.
She was starting to seriously consider opening her reading app when several alerts popped up on her phone.
The first from the security system alerting her to motion outside the door and then the door opening, the second a message from Zoran announcing that Laszlo was here.
Nikolett tucked the phone under her butt cheek since she had nowhere else to put it, then realized it was going to look weird that she was just sitting here doing nothing, so picked it up again, focusing on the screen.
She must have tapped her reading app as she tucked the phone away, because it was open and it was, of course, on a page midway through a sex scene.
He sat and patted his thigh. “Over my knee, pet.”
“I’ll be good—”
He grabbed her chin, stopping her words. “Bend over and pull down your panties so I can spank you.”
Trembling, she laid herself over his knee, reaching under her short skirt to inch down the lace panties that were already—
The door opened, and Nikolett prayed to whatever gods would listen that she wasn’t blushing. She managed not to guiltily toss the phone away, and instead looked up with a neutral smile, setting the phone down on her chair as she rose, all her weight subtly on her good leg.
“Mr. Petrescu.”
“Admiral.”
Laszlo was a white man just over average height with a lean build.
Almost rangy looking, like a wolf. His hair was medium length and was either artfully tousled, or it naturally looked good in a slightly messy style.
He had a close-cropped beard and thick, dark lashes, and shockingly light-colored eyes—pale blue or gray.
He crossed the room with a long, purposeful stride to shake her hand. He focused on her face, not looking her up and down or looking around until after he’d gripped her hand in his and they’d leaned in to touch their cheeks together.
As he turned to his seat, his gaze swept over the room and his expression revealed nothing about his thoughts or feelings. Interesting. He either wasn’t surprised, or had very good control of his expression.
“Thank you for joining me.”
Laszlo sat, and the carefully neutral expression flashed into a brief, wolfish grin. “I know when an invitation is a command.”
Nikolett wasn’t sure if he was trying to make her feel guilty. She didn’t feel guilty, but she tipped her head in acknowledgment of the dynamic. “I need to meet with you, but the day and time were up for negotiation. I apologize if you didn’t realize that and rearranged your plans.”
“I had no plans, Admiral.” He looked around again. “Though I must admit I was concerned this was going to be disciplinary.”
“Did you do something that would cause me to discipline you?” she asked, trying for dry humor.
It came out flirty and suggestive.
They both froze.
She had not just said that. Stupid Nyx telling her to read a stupid book. She’d just spouted dialogue better suited to fictional sex than real life.
Laszlo’s beard twitched, and when she grimaced, a full grin overtook his face.
“My apologies for the inappropriate comment. I did not mean that the way it sounded,” she said.
The grin widened and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I thought perhaps it was a test. To see how I’d react so you can assess sexual compatibility with my trinity.”
That answered one question. Nyx had made it clear this was about marriage in the wording of the invitation. Nikolett reached for her wineglass and realized it was empty. There was a wine bucket with a chilled bottle of white on the sideboard. She rose from her seat.
Distracted by thoughts of how to course correct this conversation, and considerations about if she even should course correct because perhaps this was a blessing in disguise, Nikolett took a step without thinking.
Pain zinged up her leg at the same time the muscles trembled and gave out. Her leg folded under her and she had to slap her palm down on the tabletop to stop herself from falling. Cutlery and glasses rattled.
A second later, Laszlo beside her. Nikolett, half bent, one hand on the table, her injured leg pulled up like she was a wounded animal, stared down at the handsome man as he bent low enough to meet her eyes.
“Admiral, are you hurt?” Laszlo’s gaze skimmed down her, focusing on the leg she’d bent to stop herself from putting weight on it. “Your leg?”
Feel something, she begged herself. Please feel something for this man.
“I injured my leg,” she said softly. “It’s healed, but occasionally still twinges.”
“Sit,” he ordered. “I’ll—” He cut himself off. “Can I help you sit?”
He’d started with a command, then stopped himself.
Taking command in a crisis situation was an extremely attractive trait, and she felt a faint stirring of interest.
She swallowed down the word “no,” answering instead, “Yes, thank you.”
He rose, then held her chair with one hand, the other hovering by her elbow as she turned, using the table as a crutch to take a step before sinking down into her chair.
He glanced at the sideboard. “Shall I open the wine?”
“Yes, please.”
With admirable efficiency, he opened the bottle, bringing the bucket over to the table so once he’d poured them each a glass, he tucked the wine back into the ice and sat across from her.
“Can I ask how you hurt your leg? I’m not sure if that’s a question too personal for me to ask my admiral.”
“Considering my unintentionally sexual punishment question…” She shook her head in only-partially pretended embarrassment. “I think it’s reasonable.”
His grin flashed, teeth white against the dark beard. “What happened to your leg?”
“I got caught on something in the garden,” she said carefully. “Fractured my leg, and I had some deep cuts too.”
He winced sympathetically as he took a sip of wine. One brow was slightly raised, inviting her to go on. He was clearly curious about the specifics, but when she didn’t volunteer more information, he didn’t press.
Nikolett smoothed her palms along her thighs, wondering where the food was, because it would be nice to have something to do with her hands. A quick glance at the door proved she couldn’t will someone to interrupt.
Time to be direct and get down to business.
“Did the vice admiral tell you this meeting was to discuss a trinity marriage?”
“Implied. As I said, I also thought I might have been in need of punishment.” He grinned as she laughed softly. “But the fact it was dinner led me to think it might be less formal, and since I’m not yet in a trinity…” He shrugged.
“A reasonable assumption.”
“Am I correct?”
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Have you selected a trinity for me?” His gaze slid away from her, glancing around the room.
“No,” Nikolett said simply, freshly self-conscious about the overly romantic atmosphere.
The door opened and Maxim and Grigoris entered, Grigoris with a tray on his shoulder.
Grigoris had slicked back his hair and wore thick-framed glasses.
Those plus keeping his head bent and changing his walk was enough to have her double-checking it was him.
Apparently Grigoris was undercover as their server.
Grigoris unfolded a tray stand with one hand and set down the tray.
“Good evening, Admiral, Mr. Petrescu. Tonight we start with prawns on a carrot, basil, mint, ginger, and micro herb salad.” Maxim set the small salad plates down with precise efficiency. Two beautifully grilled prawns rested on top of a bed of bright salad.
“Thank you,” she murmured, as if this were a totally normal evening, and she wasn’t shocked to her core by how beautiful the meal was. She had no idea Maxim was this talented.
If she didn’t desperately need him as a harco, she would have released him from his position and made sure he got interviews at all the best restaurants.
Maxim inclined his head to both of them before he and Grigoris retreated.
For the first time, Laszlo looked unsure. Maybe he thought that this was how she ate every night—surrounded by candlelight and fresh flowers, with a chef delivering her meals.
“Tell me about your conservation work,” Nikolett said as she picked up a fork.
In between bites, Laszlo described the Eastern Carpathian Mountains.
He was unexpectedly poetic in the way he spoke about primeval forests full of bears and lynx.
When he went on to talk about the damage done by unregulated and illegal industries, his eyes flashed, once more reminding her of a wolf.
“Have you ever been to the Eastern Carpathians?” Laszlo asked after Maxim brought in the second course—Sterlet with fennel, mangold, and smoked butter.
She had been to the Eastern Carpathians once to visit an artist who made beautiful religious pieces. It was a story she didn’t want to share with Laszlo. It was a story she didn’t share with anyone. Most of the stories from before she went to college weren’t things she shared.
“Are sterlet endangered?” She pointed to the fish on her plate. “My…chef is very conscientious, but might not always have the most up-to-date information.”