Chapter 17 Nico
SEVENTEEN
NICO
Three days later, I’m still catching myself randomly smiling at the memory of my date with Scarlett.
I’m shocked she agreed to the date, especially without knowing what I had planned. Hell, I was nervous for what I had planned. I had no idea if she’d enjoy it or ask to leave as soon as we got there.
I don’t know which one of us was more surprised when she did enjoy it.
I want, so badly, to know how she ended up where she is today.
What scarred her so badly that she ended up as an escort in NYC?
Not that you have to have trauma to be a sex worker, but hers is so obvious that it’s not a question.
Was it some kind of abuse at home? Or did something happen when she got to the city?
Every time I see her, I have to fight the urge to hug her and beg her to tell me everything. Just so I can fight her demons.
I let out a shaky exhale as I turn back to the meal I’m cooking, trying to move past my troubled thoughts. I have no right to save her. No right to be worried about her. All I can do is appreciate the time I’m given with her.
That thought adds a little pep to my movements.
I’ve just pulled the steak off the cast iron pan when I hear my front door unlock and swing open. I turn to look, but I already know who it is.
“I gave you that key for emergencies,” I grumble at Lucas before turning back to my food.
“Trust me, this is an emergency I needed to be in-person for,” he retorts, strolling into my condo and immediately throwing himself down on my couch. I see the moment he notices the shift in my usual atmosphere because he frowns and asks, “Are you listening to jazz music?”
I don’t bother answering that. “So, what is it that couldn’t be a phone call?”
When he doesn’t answer right away, I turn to face him. He’s looking out the window, bouncing one foot that’s crossed over the other.
“I heard the most interesting thing today,” he says after a moment. Finally, he turns to look at me. “I called your PR girl to see how the foster footage turned out, and she seemed pleased with how things came out. As in very pleased.”
“So? Isn’t that what you wanted?”
He nods. “It is. But I was curious about why it was so good. So I asked her to send it to me.”
My mind starts to spin. Scarlett wasn’t in any of the videos, right? I figured she wouldn’t want to be, so I wasn’t surprised when she made the request. I’m pretty sure I kept her out of everything.
Didn’t I?
Before I panic, a video sounds from Lucas’s phone.
“It looks like Boss has a big thing for our camera girl and can’t seem to stay focused.” A loud burst of Scarlett’s laughter. “Not that I can blame him.”
Lucas puts the phone down and quirks an eyebrow at me. “Anything you’d like to tell me, little brother?”
I fidget with the salad tongs in front of me. “No,” I say gruffly.
“You sure? Because either you did bring mystery girl with you, or you’re officially so lonely that you’re flirting with everyone.”
I send a glare over my shoulder. “I’m not lonely.”
“So it was mystery girl.”
I drop way too much cheese on my salad. “It wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t plan it that way. She just happened to be there.”
I can feel Lucas’s surprise. “So she just so happens to work with foster dogs? Where did you find this girl again?”
There’s not a chance I’m telling him the truth. Not yet. Not when it’s still so delicate.
“It was just some random dating app,” I lie.
I hear his sigh from behind me, followed by the rustle of him standing from my couch.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” he says as he stops beside me.
“I am actually capable of cutting the teasing for a few minutes.” When I don’t respond, he sighs again.
“Or at least talk to Alexander. I know he’s not a wordsmith, but—” I snort at the understatement. “You know he’ll listen. And be honest.”
My shoulders droop, all tension and fight going out of me in an instant.
I want to tell my brothers. I want to confide in them about how much I like this girl, and how confusing it all is.
That even though I still feel a little restless from all the uncertainty, somehow, she makes me feel more grounded.
Less worried about my future and more comfortable in the present.
“I will,” I finally say. “I’m just not ready yet. But I will.”
Lucas must know I’m telling the truth because he nods and claps me on the back. “Alright, good. And if I can help with fight camp, if I can take some stress off somehow, just say the word.”
I manage a grateful nod. “Sounds good. And…thanks.”
He waves me off. “Yeah, whatever.” And then he steals a giant handful of dried cranberries and starts to pop them in his mouth.
I glare at him again. “I was just about to ask if you wanted to stay for dinner. Now I don’t want to.”
“Oh, shut up. You know you have two more giant bags of those things hidden in this kitchen somewhere. Little weirdo. What is it with you and cranberries?”
I slap his hand away when he tries to take another handful. “They’re delicious. Now get your dirty, money-grubbing fingers out of the salad and set the table.”
“Hey, these money-grubbing fingers are about to pay way too much money to DoorDash some Isgro’s pastries for your weekly cheat meal.”
I turn to him with a frown. “Isgro’s closes at two and isn’t available through DoorDash. How are you going to manage that?”
He just winks as he pulls two plates from the cabinets. “You have your secrets, I have mine.”
My next date with Scarlett starts at the hotel.
I meant it when I told her no more hotels, though. No more sex, either. But I don’t have her number and still need to go through the agency, and I realized when I called them that they might not like the idea of the kind of date I’m planning.
Hell, she might not either. But I’m willing to try.
I hear a knock on the door at exactly seven o’clock. I swing it open with a grin I couldn’t control even if I wanted to.
She looks stunning. Same way she always does. She’s wearing a light blue dress with long sleeves, some kind of strappy black sandals, and her blonde hair is pinned up with a clip. Plus, a red lip, of course.
It takes me a second to realize it’s not what I asked her to wear.
I’d never tell a woman what to wear. But this is a unique instance.
One of the questions the agency asks is if I have any preferences for my date’s outfit, and since I couldn’t talk to her directly, I made a request. Solely because I know what she normally shows up in, and I have different plans for tonight.
“You’re not wearing jeans,” is what comes out of my mouth. Instantly, my cheeks heat. “I mean, you look beautiful.”
She seems amused at the sight of me tongue-tied. Stepping into the room, she asks, “Do I look like I own jeans?”
She doesn’t own jeans?
But then something occurs to me, and a smile tugs at my lips. I stop her as she’s passing me, close enough that I can breathe the words into her ear.
“Are you going against a client’s wishes?”
I see the way her red lips curl. “I guess I am.”
I can’t contain a smile of my own. “Good girl,” I whisper.
After I close the door behind her, I spin to see she’s sitting on the couch. She doesn’t look surprised, or disappointed, that we’re in a hotel room again. I guess she didn’t believe me last time.
“So,” she starts, crossing one leg over the other. “How was your week?”
I don’t answer. I simply walk over to her and gently pull her to her feet.
“Already?” she asks with a chuckle, brushing a finger down the front of my shirt.
I stop it in its path. “How do you feel about going out tonight?”
She freezes, just as I knew she would. Her eyes shoot up to mine. “What?”
“I didn’t exactly want to ask you through the agency,” I explain patiently. “I wasn’t sure how they would feel, or even how you would feel about them knowing. I didn’t want to ask about policies and things. But I meant what I said.”
When her eyes go wide, I realize she was hoping I was lying last time.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says, clearly unsure. “Any new locations or date types need to be cleared with the agency.”
“The way you cleared it with them last time?”
“That was different,” she says defensively, head tilting up to me with a little sass. “And a unique situation. I’ve never done that before.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I say as I smooth a strand of hair behind her ear.
Her eyes go wide again. And then the fear comes back, and she looks around the room.
“Anyway, why would you want to leave? We’re already here, the bed is right there. We could just—”
“Scarlett,” I interrupt gently. “I meant what I said last time. No more hotels. No more sex. I’ll pay you, but I want dates. Real dates.”
Her eyebrows pinch. “These are dates.”
“Not real ones,” I say, shaking my head. “Not ones that matter.”
She doesn’t understand.
“And where exactly do you want to go that matters?” she demands.
Okay, that’s progress.
“I’ll give you a choice. Physical activity or sightseeing?”
“A physical activity? Is that why—?” She looks down at her legs, lips pursed. “Is that why you said jeans?”
I shrug. “Yeah, but you’re actually fine in that dress. I was more so suggesting something casual. Which I have a feeling is what this is for you.”
She seems so unsure of herself, looking down at her dress and shuffling her feet, that I find myself stepping forward and pressing a gentle kiss to her exposed shoulder. “You look beautiful,” I whisper. “You always look beautiful.”
I can feel the way the tension leaves her body.
It drives a bolt of warmth through my chest.
“Umm, in that case… Physical activity.”
I pull back with a grin. “Amazing. We’re right around the corner. Come on.”