Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nikolett sat at the table long after Laszlo had been escorted out.
Everyone deserves to fall in love.
The part of her that had never outgrown the romantic notions that plagued her youth, despite the realities of her upbringing, agreed with Laszlo.
In a perfect world, she would do exactly what Laszlo said—assign trinities not just for the traditional, strategic reasons but because they suited each other romantically. In a perfect world, she would be a fairy godmother pairing a princess with her princes.
But this wasn’t a perfect world. She was in love with a man who might love her but wouldn’t fight for her.
And despite it all, she still loved him, and might not be capable of loving anyone else the same way.
Which meant that she could never marry Laszlo.
He deserved to be in love.
Nikolett hoped she would someday love her trinity, but she knew she would never be in love with them. Not this wild, infuriating love she felt for Eric.
Grigoris and Nyx appeared in the door, quiet and expectant.
“He’s wonderful,” she said softly.
Nyx started to smile, but Nikolett shook her head. “Take him off the list.”
“Why?”
“He deserves better.” Nikolett rose. “Can you bring me my knee walker or crutches?”
Nyx looked ready to argue, but Grigoris touched her arm and she marched away, clearly irritated.
“Nik,” Grigoris said softly, shortening her name in a way he rarely did. “He’s a good option.”
“He deserves better,” she repeated.
“Better how?”
“He deserves to fall in love. He wants it.”
“Love comes with time—”
“I didn’t say love, I said in love.” Nikolett’s chest and throat were tight with emotion. She spat the next words in accusation. “You got what you wanted—the woman you love, and you don’t have to share her.”
Grigoris rocked back on his heels, glancing away as his jaw worked. She felt like an ass but didn’t apologize.
Finally, he nodded. “Very well, Admiral.”
Nyx appeared behind him with her crutches. She brushed Grigoris’ arm as she slid past him. They shared a brief, speaking glance before Nyx handed Nikolett her crutches.
Nikolett had to swallow down bitter, cruel words to keep from lashing out at them. They were her friends, her coworkers. But right then she hated them, just a little bit.
“Grigoris,” she said once she was sure she wouldn’t say something awful. “Please make arrangements for me to meet with Gus.”
“Gus…” Grigoris grimaced.
“Cookie Guy!” Nyx perked up.
Nyx had been advocating for Nikolett to go out to one of the ruin bars and find a stranger to fuck, even as her husband had kittens about the security risks involved in a one-night stand.
The coffee shop outing where she met Gus by chance had been a logistical and safety nightmare, but Nikolett had insisted for the sake of her sanity.
Since then, she’d been sending and receiving flirty texts with Gus.
She hadn’t texted him since she came back from the Isle of Man because she hadn’t been in the right headspace to flirt.
She probably wasn’t now either, but with her impending marriage and everything that had happened with Eric, she needed something light and easy. Gus was both those things.
Grigoris’ gaze sharpened. “It’s not safe.”
She crutched up to them, waiting until they both moved out of her way. “I’m not planning to bring him here.”
They fell in step beside her—though far enough away she didn’t take out an ankle with a crutch.
“He’s not a member,” she went on. “Not connected to the society in any way, unless you’ve found out something else about him.”
Nikolett looked over at Grigoris, who shook his head. “No. There’s not much information on him. A lot of it was scrubbed—looks like he had some social media at some point, but it’s gone.”
Something in his tone prompted Nyx to say, “And?”
Grigoris sighed. “Given some of the security companies he’s done work for, that’s not surprising and probably not indicative of anything alarming. We have his work history, know where he’s lived.”
“Then why can’t she fuck him?”
“Nyx…” Grigoris grabbed his wife and kissed her. “You’re a menace,” he said with affection.
Nikolett forced herself to ignore the burning jealousy. “As long as we take precautions, pick the right location, there’s no reason for me not to meet him for a cup of coffee.”
“Or order room service dinner in a hotel suite,” Nyx said. “Better control of the environment than a restaurant.”
Grigoris looked between them, a line between his brows. Eventually he gave a single hard nod. “Fine. I’ll find a way for you to go on a date with your Scotsman.”
“We think we can get him to Paris,” Colum said, adjusting his glasses.
Nikolett lounged in the chair on the other side of Grigoris’ desk. For once, she wasn’t on camera. She was only listening in on the meeting.
“He expressed interest,” Colum went on. “But said that the job wasn’t worth the trip to Paris.”
“What does that mean?” Vicente asked.
“We need to give him another reason to go to Paris,” Hande said. “Our best, maybe only, hope of catching the Spaniard is knowing exactly where he, or his agents, will be.”
“What if he realizes that the job is a trap?” Regina countered. “And he’s playing Colum’s new American friend.”
“Then we go in expecting a trap.” Vicente’s voice was low and dangerous.
“I agree, but we have to get him there.”
“It will be too suspicious if another person tries to hire him to do a simultaneous job in Paris,” Grigoris insisted.
“Maybe it’s not. Maybe he has hundreds of job offers and gets to pick and choose, so one more offer won’t be suspicious,” Colum said. “But of all the things people have tried to hire him for, the job in Paris was the only one he responded to.”
Nikolett shifted her attention to her computer, answering email as she half listened to Grigoris’ meeting. It was smaller than their last meeting about the Spaniard, and Hande was the only admiral in attendance.
Colum’s plan had borne the most fruit so far. A rich American tried to hire the Spaniard for some corporate espionage that required breaking into the headquarters of an energy company based in Paris.
“None of it matters if he doesn’t take the job.” Hande’s voice was hard with exasperation. “We need additional incentives to get him to Paris.” There was a heavy pause. “We know someone he wants.”
Nikolett looked up at that, letting her expression twist since she wasn’t on camera.
Grigoris shook his head. “No.”
“Why not? We will be prepared. We assume he’ll know it’s a trap, and have counter-measures, so—”
Nikolett leaned to one side, catching Grigoris’ eye. She pointed at herself and mouthed “bait?”
“No,” Grigoris said, both to the meeting and Nikolett. “The risk is too high.”
“Are you saying you couldn’t find a way to protect her?” Hande asked.
“There is no scenario or location that’s one hundred percent safe, and I won’t risk my admiral.”
Nikolett was tempted to cut in, but she wouldn’t undermine Grigoris. Instead, she started texting him her thoughts, knowing they would pop up in the corner of his screen.
“Give me a moment to confer with my admiral,” he said after her fourth text.
A moment later, his camera and mic both off, he turned to her.
“Nikolett, we’re not using you as bait.”
“I have no intention of wandering around a tourist area by myself where I can be shot or kidnapped. But would it have to be that? Would it be enough if I were just seen in the city?”
Grigoris sat back, thinking.
And this was the difference between Grigoris wanting to protect her because they were friends, and Grigoris being the security minister, whose job was protecting the territory, and by extension, her.
The Spaniard was an ongoing and serious threat. Territory operations had been severely negatively impacted. They were under siege, and this operation in Paris could possibly lift that siege.
“There would still be points of vulnerability. Every transfer—plane to car, car to hotel...”
“I know. But I’d need to be seen at least a few times. Even if it’s just walking from a car into a building.”
Grigoris searched her face. “You might get hurt.”
“As long as I don’t die.”
“You might die,” he countered.
“I don’t like that option. Do you think it’s possible to arrange a security protocol that would prevent my death?”
“No,” Grigoris said, but he was staring into middle space, thinking. “A sniper could put a bullet in your head as you get into the car.”
“Do you think that’s a realistic threat?”
“No.” Grigoris scrubbed his face with his hands. “If he just wanted you dead, there are better ways to do it. He shot you, but it wasn’t a kill shot, and we have to assume that wasn’t an accident.”
Nikolett nodded. “Assuming there won’t be a long-range sniper, can it be done?”
“No system is perfect. We’ve learned that.”
“But I’m still here. Still alive.”
Grigoris met her gaze, his brows beetled in worry. “As your friend, I want to say no.”
“As security minister?”
“As security minister, I think it’s an acceptable risk. We can’t remain on the defensive, or locked down, forever. Colum’s right, this might be our best chance.”
Nikolett smiled to mask the fear that made her stomach tight.
Grigoris turned back to his computer, rejoining the meeting.
“We’ve assessed, and taking out the Spaniard is my admiral’s top priority.”
“She’ll come to Paris?” Hande sounded surprised.
“Yes. We won’t put her in any overtly compromising situations, but we’ll come to Paris in hopes that once she’s spotted there, the Spaniard will take the intellectual property theft job.”
Nikolett went back to her email as Grigoris and the others discussed both her personal security and the trap they’d lay for the Spaniard.
Outwardly, she projected calm, but in the privacy of her own thoughts, she let the fear swirl and build until she was gripped by an illogical certainty that something terrible was going to happen to her in Paris.