Chapter 2 Nova #2
“Yeah, I’m starting to wonder about that, myself.
Let me refresh your memory…” He lifted his left hand, where a gold ring sat on his third finger.
He’s married? Shit, I didn’t notice that when we first started talking.
I was normally more observant. Then again, what was he doing with me if he had a wife?
“I’m so sorry. But we didn’t do anything, did we? Not really. I’ll talk to your wife for you,” I offered. I’m a homewrecker now. This was getting worse every second. Shutting up would be a good idea.
It would be too late, though, since he was already snorting with soft, rueful laughter. “No, you don’t understand. This isn’t mine, or it wasn’t until last night. I’m just as surprised as you are.”
It had to be the hangover. Otherwise, why couldn’t I make any sense of what he was trying to tell me? “I’m lost,” I finally admitted, cringing at my own stupidity.
“Really? Take a look at your hand,” he replied, glaring at the appendage in question until I complied more out of curiosity than anything else.
Then I saw it.
A thin, gold band I didn’t recognize.
Yet once I registered its presence and the meaning behind it, some of the memories started filling in…
I needed protection. That was the one thing I hadn’t been able to get out of my head all night while this handsome stranger and I drank, laughed, and flirted shamelessly.
We had done some dancing, too, and I didn’t bother moving his hands away from my ass.
Frankly, it was nice to forget everything for a little while.
If I kept dancing, drinking, pretending everything was all right, I might be able to convince myself I had imagined those girls.
The conversation. The threats from my father’s right-hand man, his second-in-charge.
I needed a way to stay safe. Dad would never hurt me, but Nico? I didn’t know. I only knew I didn’t want to find out.
“Come on.” The tall, gorgeous stranger with the wandering hands who wore that roguish smile while his eyes twinkled, and I really, really wished tonight had never happened.
I wished I could enjoy myself for real. “Have another drink with me. You’re still too uptight.
How can anyone as beautiful as you be so uptight?
” His tie was loosened, and the top button of his shirt was open.
I liked him better this way—his hair a little mussed, a little imperfect all the way around.
He was more human. I doubted I would ever want to know him in real life—we were too different, with his playboy arrogance and my life goals—but for tonight, he was a nice diversion. A welcome pair of arms to escape into.
The martinis I’d already drunk—two or three so far on top of what I drank with the girls earlier—had a way of making the impossible seem incredibly possible.
Sure, I would have another one. Maybe another after that.
I’d keep going so long as it meant obliterating the fresh, painful, frightening memories.
“You know what? I am feeling kind of thirsty,” I’d decided.
“We were both thirsty, weren’t we?” I whispered, staring down at my hand. A girl didn’t need her master’s degree in business from Oxford to know what we did. “Whose idea was it?”
“I know it sure as hell wasn’t mine.” He walked around the side of the bed and dropped into the armchair, disregarding the jacket laying across the back. When he landed, he winced with regret over moving so thoughtlessly. He had to be hurting the way I was.
Not like last night, when he’d thrown his hands into the air and barked out a joyful laugh. “Are you kidding me? I love Hitchcock movies!”
“No offense, but I wouldn’t imagine you having the attention span to appreciate a classic thriller.” I laughed at how he gaped at me before we tossed back our shots.
Oh, God, we had switched to shots. That explained so much.
Rolling his eyes, he muttered, “Next thing I know, you’re going to gatekeep Hitchcock by asking which movie is my favorite, then snickering when I tell you it’s one of the popular ones.”
“Oh, just don’t say Psycho.” I cringed while shaking my head, making him laugh. The sound made me laugh with him. One thing I could appreciate was a guy who didn’t take himself too seriously. Not like the guys who were all around me at school. No sense of humor. Dry. Boring.
“What the hell is wrong with Psycho?” he demanded.
“It changed the game. Killing the heroine in the first third of the movie?” When I only scoffed, he added, “For the record, I was going to say Shadow of a Doubt, a perfect slice-of-life movie with a serial killer added. That was the kind of theme Hitchcock did the best.”
“More than a pretty face,” I murmured, staring down at my wedding ring in numb disbelief. “That’s what I said to you, isn’t it? You’re more than a pretty face.”
“Sure, I seem to remember that. What I don’t remember is how we ended up at the wedding chapel.”
Thinking was too hard. I cradled my heavy head in my hands, groaning.
When did I go from wanting this man to protect me for the night while I put a plan in place to exchanging vows and rings?
And why? This was so totally unlike me. Nova Mancini didn’t follow whims. Nova Mancini was the valedictorian of her high school class.
She had graduated summa cum laude from Columbia University.
She had attended what was widely considered the best school in the entire world, graduating from Oxford with an MBA.
She did not, under any circumstances, hook up with a stranger at a party she’d crashed, then run away for a quickie wedding.
She also did not normally witness what looked a hell of a lot like human trafficking taking place under her father’s watchful eye.
Now, I had a husband who clearly wanted nothing to do with me, and, under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him either.
Some spoiled playboy who thought a shared interest in Alfred Hitchcock and the ability to wear the hell out of a suit made him something special.
It might have worked while I was wasted, doing everything I could to forget what I had seen and heard.
The way it felt to be threatened by a man with black, empty eyes.
This tall, blond stranger had been the closest thing to my salvation last night.
The morning after, on the other hand?
The world had taken on a different look.