Chapter 8 #2
She hides her laughter in her eye-bleed green smoothie. I’ll never understand people who start the day drinking pureed grass that smells like baby food.
“So, on a scale of miffed to thermonuclear, how pissed are you that I snuck down to grab the food?” She tilts her head like a little bird.
“Three. Annoyed.” I finish the first burrito in three bites and tear open the second before answering. “You’re a grown woman, Nile. New York isn’t the safest place, but the lobby’s reasonably secured with its own guard. Still wish you would’ve woke me up first.”
“Well, you’re welcome.” She bites her lip, irritation flashing in her indigo eyes.
Too early for this.
I polish off half my burrito, steeling myself not to take any rage-bait yet.
“I had some time to think,” she says. “And I’m still kinda pissed, no question, but… I’ve decided you probably weren’t trying to sabotage anything yesterday.”
“That’s what you thought?” My brows lift. I can’t hide the surprise in my voice.
“Well, you were kind of touchy and paranoid.” After the hurt and anger etched on her face less than twenty-four hours ago, that’s putting it mildly.
“It’s called due diligence. I might’ve been a little heavy-handed, yes. If so, I apologize.”
“Yeah, cool. When I stop and think about it, you were actually trying to be helpful in your big dumb bison way.”
I breathe through my nose. We’re going to get through breakfast without fighting—even if it kills me.
“Big dumb bison?”
“You know.” She waves a hand. “Stampeding your way through things.”
Stampeding. I rip off another bite of burrito and chew.
I can’t argue back if my mouth is full.
“So, yeah. You have rules and I try to respect them. Here’s a new one. Can we agree you won’t piss off potential buyers?”
“Fine,” I grind out. “It’s your decision. I told you from the beginning.”
“I know, but you’re clearly devoted to checking my homework.”
I shake my head.
“Woman, I’m devoted to protecting Mr. Blackthorn’s legacy. That includes you and his highly valuable property.”
“I know, I know.”
“Especially you,” I add. “Don’t run from me again. When I have to rush in and peel you off the pavement, that’s when mistakes happen.”
She looks down. Her cheeks heat and her face softens with a shy smile.
“That was pretty dumb of me. I’m sorry.” She twirls the straw in her smoothie slowly, holding it before she meets my eyes again. “Hey, just like old times, right?”
My brain flashes back to catching her years ago when she fell out of the tree. The way it made her so vulnerable and how she only figured out I had good intentions later.
Familiar.
“Just like old times. Except this time, I didn’t have to chase off some fuckboy.” I sip my coffee, relishing the fluster on her face.
“Let’s not go there. I do learn from my mistakes, in dating and in life.”
Shit, what about her dating life? Come to think of it, I haven’t noticed her glued to her phone like a lot of young women, texting some boyfriend back in Boston or flipping through potential matches on the apps.
Surely, she puts herself out there.
A hard fact that’s none of my fucking business.
But at least I’m starting to feel more human with the coffee. I set my cup down and change the subject.
“I know you want to find a buyer and pull the trigger. If that’s Fairfax, fine, but you should know I’m still digging into him. A few of his past associates were a few degrees removed from criminals, especially on the Russian side. Dangerous ones.”
“How dangerous?” A line appears between her eyes.
“Enough to raise my security assessment,” I say grimly.
“No evidence he was ever mixed up with them too closely, though. Igor Baranov bought quite a few religious pieces from Fairfax before he was killed. He was an oil baron, and you couldn’t walk through a business room then without smacking into some crime lord. It wasn’t unheard of.”
“So Fairfax was clean?”
“Yes,” I admit reluctantly. “While I can’t say the same about the money he earned off Baranov, no one ever launched an investigation. It’s just one loose end to keep an eye on.”
Silence.
She purses her lips as she thinks, toying with the last chunk of her burrito until bright-yellow egg and green avocado falls out.
“I know, due diligence. But it sounds like we know the risks. If something shady comes up, we’ll handle it. But for now, would it be too risky to get some fresh air?”
“You’ve been outside today,” I point out.
“I never stepped out the main door.”
“Still counts.”
She looks at me flatly.
I know I’m being unreasonable.
Still, as long as she’s not taking the egg and she isn’t venturing anywhere iffy, there’s nothing I can do or say to stop her.
Not if I want to keep my head intact anyway.
“I’m not sure why I’m bothering to ask, but here goes.” She draws her legs up on the chair under her, and I get a flash of thigh before her sweater covers it up again. She sighs. “Do you want to visit an art museum?”
I blink.
It’s not the museum part that surprises me. But honestly, I am surprised. I never thought she’d want to spend one extra minute with me.
“An art museum,” I say carefully.
“Yep. It’s not that far, just a few blocks.
We could go for an hour or two, look at pretty paintings and cool sculptures.
I’ll annoy you with the criticism I learned in college.
You’ll try not to strangle me. But we’ll kill some time while we wait for Lord Fairfax to call. The egg stays safely here.”
Her teeth flash as she grins, and for a second, I’m blinded.
I’m not sure if she’s trying to be sweet or dying of nerves from asking me to indulge her.
Holy fuck.
I never appreciated how beautiful she looks when she tries. Hell, even when she doesn’t.
For a second, I gaze out the gaping window behind her. In this penthouse, New York City gleams in the spring sun below, harmless and yellow.
That lush background frames her like she’s a painting herself. Why do I need to visit a museum when there’s living art in front of me?
Her hair riots around her face in this light, and those eyes glow like gas flames, mischief and excitement and a dozen other things I can’t afford to fixate on.
I blame the caffeine. I damn near chugged that coffee and it’s making me crazy.
“Also,” she adds when I don’t say anything, “I figure your daughter wouldn’t mind a gift or three from the Big Apple, would she? I hate that all this is taking you away from her.”
There’s the shot to the heart.
“Okay, fine. Think I still have the code to your granddad’s old vault in this place. The suitcase might fit. Barely. If it does, we’ll go.” I hold up my hand. “Two hours, Nile Queen. We need to be back here by then. I’m setting a timer on my phone.”
“Don’t act so tortured!” she teases.
“If it’s a date you want, fucking fine. But you’re not leaving my side, and neither is that cursed egg. You want your field trip, that means I’m back to being your chaperone.”
She throws her head back and laughs before I’ve processed what I said.
“Man, you must be hard up. How long ago was your last date?” She throws me a sassy look and flicks a crumpled foil burrito wrapper at me. It pings off my shoulder. “Go shower, brat. We’ve got a lot of art to take in and little time.”