Chapter 12 - Nico
TWELVE
NICO
I let her sleep.
The show’s been over for a while now, but I can’t remember a single thing that happened. I’ve been too busy staring at her.
She looks…peaceful.
There’s no tension on her face, no stress lines visible anywhere. And there’s a soft smile on her lips, one I’ve never seen before.
Her head rests on my shoulder, her body tucked into my side with her hand wrapped around my arm, and I can hear the tiny sounds of her snoring.
She’s adorable. I could stare at her for hours.
I can’t reach my phone from here—not that I’d want to—so I click the guide on the TV to check the time. 9:37 p.m. She got here at 8:00. Our appointment tonight was for an hour.
Should I wake her? Am I supposed to wake her?
But also, why did she fall asleep? Was she that tired? I would’ve noticed when she walked in if she was exhausted. She just looked a little tense.
I can’t help brushing a hand down her hair, taking in her features and the way she’s curled into me. I don’t even know if I can wake her up.
Before I can help it, my thoughts start to shift.
Is this…normal for her? Not just the tiredness, but feeling comfortable enough with an essential stranger to fall asleep on them?
And as much as I hate to even think about it, it’s definitely not normal for an escort to go past a client’s allotted time without discussion.
…right?
Is it possible she’s more comfortable with me than anyone else? That she actually likes me? That I’m not alone in this attraction toward her?
God, I hope that’s possible.
I can’t stop looking at her, can’t stop stroking her hair.
I’ve been dying to ask her out—on a normal date.
I want to get to know her, want to ask her questions that she’ll answer for real.
I want to take her on a date that’s not inside this hotel room, that doesn’t have a time limit, and that doesn’t need to include sex or intimacy or anything that she’s used to being paid for.
But she’s so closed off that I’m nervous to ask, too terrified to ruin any semblance of a connection I have with her.
My worry is interrupted by her stirring in my arms. I quickly pull my hand from her hair, but I can’t bring myself to move away.
She wakes with the sweetest little moan, her body stretching free of sleep before she’s even opened her eyes. When she finally does, she smiles up at me.
My heart stops at the sight.
And then it all goes to shit.
I watch the realization enter her eyes, and the smile drops from her lips. Suddenly, she’s crawling backwards to the other end of the couch, shock and regret on her face.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she breathes. “I-I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you, I’m so sorry.”
I hold my hands up in a gesture of there’s nothing to be scared of. “You’re fine, I promise. I’m not mad.” Far from it.
She leaps for her phone on the coffee table. When she sees the time, her eyes go impossibly wider.
“Oh my God,” she nearly yelps. “I slept for over an hour! Why didn’t you wake me up?”
I frown, suddenly worried that she missed something because I let her sleep. Another client?
I try to fight down the jealousy. And fail.
“I didn’t wake you because you looked like you needed the rest,” I tell her carefully. “From my end, it’s not a problem. Are you okay?”
Now that shock morphs to horror.
“No, I-I didn’t mean it for me. I just… Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I wasted your time like this.” Her head whips around, searching for something. An answer? “Obviously, there’s no charge for tonight. This was completely my fault.”
“Red…”
“No, I mean it.” She grabs for my hand, looking desperate. “I can’t charge you for this. This was completely unprofessional, and I can’t apologize enough.”
“It really is fine—”
“I hope you won’t hold it against the agency,” she continues, not hearing any of what I’m saying. She’s in a panic spiral. “If you’d like to see another girl, I can get Amara to comp your next appointment.”
I wonder if the horror is showing on my face. “Uh…no. I want to see you again.”
Finally, that gets her attention.
“You… You what?”
I take a chance and shift her hand in mine so I’m holding it, my thumb brushing over her skin. “I want to see you again. I’m not mad that you fell asleep.” Another risk, but I take it. “I actually really enjoyed our night.” I give her a lopsided smile to break the tension. “It was relaxing.”
A small fraction of her tension disappears, her shoulders dropping.
“Well…” She gives me a look of uncertainty. “If you’d like to see me again, then I’ll comp your date. No charge.”
Still smiling, I shake my head. “No deal. Tonight counts just as much as the other two. Red, I had fun.”
She doesn’t believe me; I can see it in her eyes. Jesus, does she only think she’s worth spending time with if there’s sex involved? Or is this an escort thing?
“I’m really going to insist,” she says after a beat. “Tonight shouldn’t count. All I did was say hello and then fall asleep.” I open my mouth to push back one last time, but she talks right over me. “Call the agency for another date. One you can pay for.”
I hate paying for any of them. Not because I’m cheap, but because I want to date her.
But I can tell now’s not the time to have that conversation. She’s too on edge after waking up, too scared of something I’m not seeing. So I simply nod my agreement. “Alright.”
When she seems relieved by my answer, I know I made the right call. I’ll fight her insecurities, or whatever this is, another day.
Our conversation over, the air fills with awkward tension. I’m not sure she wants to stay, and I don’t know how to ask her. But I also don’t want to kick her out.
“Just so you know, Andy survived eliminations,” I say casually.
Thank God it works. She lets out a soft laugh and says, “I assumed he would. That man is the people’s princess. I love him.”
Encouraged by her answer, I take a chance and ask, “Want to watch it again?”
Whoops. Too much too soon.
Her lips purse and she glances at the door. “I should probably get going.” But she sounds regretful.
I nod. “I understand. I’ll get your sweater.”
Standing, I reach for the sweater she laid on the opposite couch and hold it up for her to slip into. She sends me a grateful smile before turning her back and letting me slide it on.
When she turns to face me, she’s far closer than I anticipated.
Do I imagine the hitch in her breath? I don’t know, but I’m not imagining the way her gaze drops to my lips.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I swallow roughly. “You’re welcome,” I respond, my voice like gravel. God, she’s so beautiful.
But I can’t kiss her. I shouldn’t even touch her right now.
Thankfully, she takes the decision out of my hands. Because she reaches up slowly and pulls the collar of my shirt to the side.
“Did you get a new tattoo?” She’s barely breathing as she asks the question.
I’m barely breathing as I answer it. “I did. Last week. Just a small one.”
She tugs it farther to the side. “What is it?”
I hesitate for a beat, then say, “It’s easier to show you if I take my shirt off.”
There. The ball is in her court now. If she’s truly thrown off by our boundaries tonight, she’ll say no and leave.
Instead, she meets my eyes and nods. “Okay.”
Slowly, I reach back with one hand to grip the collar of my shirt and pull it over my head.
“Why is it so sexy when guys do that?”
My lip twitches at her question. I don’t think she meant to say that out loud, especially when her cheeks pinken. I don’t tease her about it, I just point at the tattoo and explain, “They’re paw prints from my childhood dogs. I’ve been wanting to get it forever.”
Her gaze zeroes in on the ink, awe in her eyes as she lifts a hand and gently traces over the raised ink above my collarbone. “They’re beautiful,” she whispers.
“Do you have any tattoos?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
Taking a guess, I ask, “Are they too unladylike?”
The yes is obvious in her eyes. “Has there ever been a design you’ve really liked?” I try instead.
She lets out a noncommittal hum. “To be honest, I’ve never even considered the question.” Her hand continues to trace over my skin as she adds, “But this is a very sweet tattoo, Nico.”
I can’t stop staring at her. “Have you ever had a pet?”
She shakes her head. “No. My parents weren’t fond of animals. And even living on my own now… I don’t know, I’ve never really felt like I’m ready for one.”
“You could foster,” I suggest. “Those are temporary. You could get a feel for pet parent life.”
I can’t read her expression. I touched on something, I just don’t know what.
“Maybe,” she says, pulling her hand away. I wish she hadn’t.
“So I’ll…call you?” I ask, my voice too high. Maybe I’m just overcompensating for the fact that I know I won’t be calling her, but the agency.
The smile she gives me is a mask. I know it, and she knows it. “I’ll be waiting.”
And then she quickly leans up to press a kiss on my cheek before rushing out the door.
I don’t move from my spot for a while.
The next morning, I’m still in the hotel room, bleary-eyed from sleep, when my phone rings.
Lucas. I answer it with a groan.
“Why are you calling me this early,” I croak out.
A pause. “Brother, it’s 9 a.m. I’ve already won two cases in court. Why are you still sleeping.”
I blink my eyes open. “Because sleep is more important than making rich bastards richer?”
“Sounds like something a not-rich bastard would say.”
I roll my eyes. “Lucas, you’re my manager. With full access to my bank account. What’s your definition of rich if not that?”
“My bank account.”
I let out a heavy breath and drag a hand down my face. “Dude, why are you calling me?”
“Ironically, in manager capacity,” he says dryly. “Your PR girl called me because she had an idea.” A pause. “She said you’re in New York?”
I hesitate. I haven’t exactly shared with my brothers why I’m in New York. “I am.”
Another pause. “Okay… Why?”
“I’ve been training up here,” I answer simply.
I should’ve known that wouldn’t be enough to convince Lucas. The guy’s like a bloodhound. “That doesn’t explain why you’re sleeping up there.”
Wincing, I tell him a half-lie. “I’ve been…seeing a girl here.”
“Ah,” I hear through the phone, his smugness obvious. “That’s the big picture I was looking for. Is she hot? Does she have any friends?”
I roll my eyes, knowing he can sense the action. “As if you don’t have enough dates lined up yourself. I’m not setting you up. And anyway, this is…new. I don’t want to risk it with anything.”
He chuckles. “Alright, alright, I’ll let it be. For now. But you know this is eventually going to call for another night out with Alexander, right?”
Yeah, for once I’m not looking forward to that.
“Lucas, what’s the idea?” I ask impatiently.
I can hear him clap his hands together, can imagine him pacing in his too-fancy office with the beautiful view of the Philadelphia skyline.
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” he starts. “Socials absolutely loved the pictures of you at that yoga with puppies event. I think we should capitalize on it. Videos of you training are great for marketing this fight, but it’s the after-hours that people love to see. ”
I chew on my bottom lip as I mull it over. I usually hate the PR stuff, but Lucas knows the best way to get me to do them is to involve animals. It’s hard to hate a marketing gig if it involves puppies.
“There’s a shelter in NYC that’s getting all kinds of traction on socials right now,” Lucas continues.
“But somehow, it’s still struggling to find fosters and adopters.
You should attend one of their rescue meet-and-greets.
Just spend the afternoon there, help out, and record a few videos with the dogs.
Boom. Perfect non-fighting content to balance out the training videos we’re using to market your fight. ”
Is it fate that I mentioned fostering last night?
More importantly, is that why I’m saying yes?
“It’s a good idea,” I find myself saying. “When’s the next meet-and-greet?”
“Next week, on Sunday. I can set it up if you’re good with it.”
My brain’s already thinking about whether or not I can get Daisy to see me on a Sunday night. “I’m good with it,” I respond absentmindedly.
“Good. And I’ll just put it out there: if you can get your mystery girl to come with you, it’d be even better for pictures…”
“Lucas,” I groan.
“I’m just saying! You were just telling us you haven’t had any luck with dating, and now suddenly you’re driving up to New York once a week for some new girl. It makes me curious.”
“Everything makes you curious.”
“It’s what makes me a good lawyer,” he retaliates. “Anyway, plan for Sunday afternoon then. And if you feel like fostering by the end, even better.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m hanging up now. I hope you get murked in court today.”
He’s still laughing as I hang up.