Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“You put the fleet admiral, and therefore all of us, at risk because of your personal needs.”
“He was never at risk.”
“Being drugged, hauled across roofs, and transported across Paris in a wardrobe case is not at risk?” Regina sneered at Nikolett. “Are you stupid?”
Nikolett held on to her temper with both hands. Only the fact that she was still mellow from many, many orgasms kept her from verbally eviscerating the head of Eric’s Spartan Guard.
“Eric is here. He is fine, as you can see.” She pointed to her left where Eric stood shoulder to shoulder with Grigoris. They were watching her, and Regina fight like it was a tennis match.
Eric had an earpiece in, a phone with Nyx’s face showing in one hand. She was live-translating from Hungarian for him.
Maxim, Iacob, and Zoran as well as the rest of the Spartan Guard were in the hall, probably having an argument of their own.
It was only after her punishment—which ended with them cuddled in bed before she inexplicably started sobbing against his shoulder—and then slow, soft sex that they’d finally emerged from their little cocoon to face the aftermath of the kidnapping she’d orchestrated.
Eric was in regular clothes, thanks to Regina bringing his luggage over.
Unbeknownst to them, there had been a silent war raging all day between her people and the Spartan Guard, kept from becoming fist-fights in the hall only because they were trying to keep a low profile and not alert the Spaniard as to exactly how many people she had protecting her.
Assuming he hadn’t already seen that after Eric’s arrival spooked everyone.
The Spartan Guard had been trying to rescue Eric when they weren’t arguing with her team, and they’d been wildly unsuccessful.
The security net her people had set, with help from the French security team, had done its job, in this case keeping the Spartan Guard from physically getting to Eric.
Negotiation also hadn’t worked, and Grigoris had held firm in refusing to interrupt them.
The double failures explained Regina’s foul temper.
“I don’t care if you fuck him,” Regina snapped, “but I need to know where he is.”
“You knew where he was. We told you.”
“I need to hear it from him.”
“You want him to call you next time he’s fucking me? While he’s fucking me?” Nikolett sneered. Okay, maybe she wasn’t all that calm anymore. “Don’t project your failure onto me. It is not my fault you didn’t protect the roof.”
“I will—”
“Enough,” Eric barked in English, cutting Regina off. “Nikolett, next time you want to kidnap me, have your people coordinate it with the Spartan Guard, and you can’t institute a communications blackout.”
Nikolett was gearing up to argue with Eric—one of her favorite pastimes—when Regina said, “I would have helped.”
Nikolett turned to Regina, blinking.
“If you’d asked, I would have helped you.” Regina crossed her arms. “Sometimes protecting him means protecting him from his own stupid choices. He’s made many stupid choices when it comes to you.”
Nikolett absorbed that.
“You two need to stop being stupid and get married,” Regina added.
If she’d been calm, she might have gone to Regina for help. “I should have come to you. I was…a little angry.”
The sparkling fury faded from Regina’s gaze. “A Hungarian woman’s ‘little angry’ is huge and terrifying to the rest of the world.”
Nikolett laughed in agreement.
“To be clear, this ends any conflict or tension between the Spartan Guard and Hungary?” Grigoris asked.
“Yes,” Regina confirmed before turning to Eric. “Are we staying in Paris? If you’re moving to this hotel, we’ll need to make arrangements, and depending on how many days we’re staying, you have appointments and meetings that need to be rearranged.”
Nikolett glanced at Eric to find he was already looking at her.
Regina’s string of questions boiled down to “what’s next?”
They didn’t have an answer for that question, because they hadn’t talked about the future, even their very near future—aka tomorrow.
“We’ll get back to you,” Eric said, holding out his hand.
And when Nikolett placed hers in his, everyone’s attention fastened to their joined hands, as if this were a momentous thing.
Because it was.
Eric led her to the connecting door that would take them from the larger suite to her smaller one. She glanced at the balcony where they’d had their rain-soaked conversation. Now, the memory made her smile.
Once inside the relative privacy of her suite, Eric dramatically bolted the door from their side, then sighed and unlocked it. For safety, her people, and now his, needed to be able to get in.
Eric walked to the window, looking out at Paris which was painted pink and gold by sunset. “Want to run away with me?”
Nikolett leaned against his back, cheek on his shoulder blade. “Yes. Where would we go?”
“Does it matter?”
“No. Not as long as it’s just us.”
Eric turned, pulling her into his arms. “A private island, somewhere tropical, where all we have to do is eat, drink, and have sex.”
“Bliss,” she murmured as he rested his cheek on her head.
“We could do it.” His tone was hesitant but serious. “Just…leave.”
For the first time in her life, running away from her responsibilities sounded smart, maybe even brave, not cowardly.
Because they wouldn’t really be running away, they’d be running toward something, together.
“How long could we stay gone before we started to worry about the people we left behind?” she asked in the same low voice.
He sighed. “It’s a good dream.”
“A very good dream.”
“Nikolett, I need to ask you something.”
Wary, she eased away from him, searching his face, which was solemn and serious.
“Will you…have dinner with me?” He grinned.
Nikolett rolled her eyes.
“We do need to eat. Is there room service?”
“I think so. Last night, we ordered from a special menu from the famous restaurant, but I think there is a regular menu.”
“‘We’ meaning you and Cookie Guy?”
“Yes.” Nikolett watched him, trying to read Eric’s mood.
“Stop looking at me like that, Nikki.” He rubbed her upper arms. “I told you, you have nothing to be ashamed of. And even if you did…” A slow smile curved his lips as his gaze slid down her. “You’ve been punished.”
Nikolett’s blood heated, and impossibly she wanted him again. Wanted more. Maybe nothing as intense as the forced orgasms, given the emotional release aftermath, but he’d promised to put her on her knees and fuck her from behind so he could fit all of his cock inside her. Maybe—
“Food first,” he rumbled. “You need to eat.”
She wanted to let the issue of last night go, but she couldn’t. Not yet.
“You wouldn’t care if I told you that last night, he brought me flowers and we ate a fancy dinner right there?” She pointed at the table.
Eric folded his arms. “Am I pissed that he remembered his flowers and I forgot mine in the car and then they died? Maybe.”
Nikolett tried and failed to hide a smile. Still, some part of her was waiting for him to leave. To change his mind the way he had before.
“I also said yes when he asked me to dinner.”
Eric eyed her. “Trying to make me jealous?”
“No. Trying to see if we’re really…if we’re okay.”
Eric wrapped his arms around her once more. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this—to just be held by him.
“I love you, Nikki.”
She burrowed against him. “I love you, Eric.”
“Now stop talking about the guy you had dinner with last night and have dinner with me tonight. And tomorrow night. And all the other nights.”
They definitely needed to talk about the future, which meant she needed to tell him something he wasn’t going to like.
She stepped back out of his arms. “I can’t stop talking about Gus.”
Eric studied her. “Why not?”
“Because he’s probably going to be our third.”
Eric groaned. “Fuck.”
Eric didn’t know what it said about them that instead of fancy room service or going out to a nice restaurant, they were eating bags of takeaway on the floor of the bedroom.
“Favorite food?” Eric asked since it was his turn for a question.
Nikolett held a bite of Korean fried chicken to his lips.
Eric lifted his head and opened his mouth, taking the chicken and then kissing her fingertips before letting his head fall back.
He was stretched out on the floor, head on her lap as she sat with her back against the wall.
Various takeaway bags were spread out around them.
They’d eaten bread and cheese delivered from a local store, then moved on to falafel and Korean food since they were the two takeaways both Nikolett’s people and his own had agreed were safe.
“Lángos,” she finally answered. “It’s a fried dough topped with cheese and sour cream. You can buy it on the street, and it’s cheap. When I first moved to Budapest, I would get excited every time I got it.”
Eric sat up, turning to lean back against the wall beside her. She passed him a kimbap.
“When did you move to Budapest?”
“For university.”
“And before that? Where are you from?”
“I was born in and spent most of my childhood near Debrecen.” Nikolett picked at her food, not eating much now. He didn’t know if she wasn’t hungry any longer, or if their casual game of taking turns answering questions was making her nervous.
“Most of your childhood?”
“I left, with my grandmother, just before I turned thirteen. We moved to live with her sister near Szolnok.”
How odd that this woman, who’d been both his reason for breathing and the reason he didn’t sleep, seemed like a stranger right now.
He wanted, almost desperately, to know more about her childhood, to hear the trauma she’d alluded to, and apparently been able to tell some cookie-peddling Scotsman but hadn’t told him.