by RC Boldt
A brief pause precedes Nico’s low, lethal voice when he poses a question. “And if it’s compromised, who’s gonna be responsible? Who’s gonna reimburse me the millions it costs me?”
“I’m sure Mr. Boman and Mr. Harrod will ensure that, considering they just pledged to do whatever it takes to keep our investments safe,” Manny offers smoothly. “Isn’t that right, gentlemen?”
Millions? The university sure as hell doesn’t pay that well.
But evidently, drug dealing does.
Somehow, I maintain my composure while internally, I’m left reeling. It goes to show that you can never judge a book by its cover. Never judge a man—or woman, for that matter—by their academic accolades. Because they could easily be a front for something dark and illicit.
“You better,” Nico warns. “’Cause if you don’t, you’ll end up gettin’ some holes in that head of yours that no doc can fix. You get me?”
“Is there something I can help you find, miss?”
My head snaps around to find a man standing a foot away, dressed in nondescript clothing matching the staff who’ve been bustling around attending to the guests. His voice was loud enough to be heard by the men inside that room—that much is evident by the silence emanating from it. He has a patient, practiced half-smile stamped on his face.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I flash the man an apologetic smile and gesture to the painting. “When I came out of the ladies’ room, this piece caught my attention.” Leaning toward the man, I lower my voice conspiratorially. “My parents were art appraisers and well-sought-after, but sadly, I can’t say I inherited their talent for it.”
Sincerity bleeds into the man’s smile now. “Ah, well, Miss…” He trails off, and I’m quick to introduce myself.
I extend my hand. “Olivia Wright.”
He offers a firm handshake with a, “Lovely to meet you, Miss Wright. I’m Philip.” Glancing around us, he lowers his voice, and his eyes sparkle with mischief. “If I’m able to speak candidly, my niece could have put that piece to shame when she was two and finger-painted my sister’s walls.”
A laugh spills out of me. “It’s good to know I’m not alone in my musings.”
“Indeed, miss.” He gestures down the hall to where the bulk of the guests are congregating. “May I escort you back to the gathering?”
“That would be lovely, Philip. Thank you.”
I don’t bother glancing back. There’s no need. The weight of what feels like a thousand eyes follows me as Philip guides me back to the others.
48
Nico
As soon as the chancellor and dean exit the room, Rafe closes us inside with Manny.
I lean forward in my chair, dropping my forearms to rest on my knees, and stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the waterfront.
Rafe is the first to speak. “She heard it.”
I don’t respond. I’m not sure I can, not with this massive invisible fist clenching my gut. I knew she’d come looking for me. She’s too curious. Too damn smart for her own good.
And hell if a part of me still doesn’t quite trust her. It’s why I told Manny and Rafe to leave the door ajar. Manny’s people were under strict orders to watch for anyone veering too close to our meeting.
Anyone except Olivia, that is.
I thought, for sure, she’d circle back to the party after hearing our voices once she knew there wasn’t anything for her to worry about. When Rafe’s eyes cut to mine, silently telling me she was still lingering near the door, damn if the center of my chest hadn’t felt like a thousand-pound weight settled on it.
Rafe’s mouth parts, then snaps shut, visibly hesitating before he shrugs. “Her folks were art appraisers, though. Coulda been an innocent thing.”
I narrow my eyes on him, and he crosses his arms, leaning against the wall. “Just sayin’.”
Manny heaves out a sigh. “Nico, you know I have to ask…” I lift my eyes to his. “Do you think she’ll compromise things for us?”
I press my lips thin because I don’t know what the hell to say. Everything I’ve been able to uncover about Olivia leads me to believe she operates on the black-and-white, no-shades-of-gray school of thought. Right and wrong, legal and illegal. Yet…she still hasn’t turned me in. No anonymous tips have been left for the feds. So, maybe she does have feelings for me. Feelings strong enough to deter her from her moral code.
But she just witnessed talk confirming two other men operating on the wrong side of the law. Men employed by the same university where she works.
Dragging myself out of the chair, I stalk toward the windows and shove my hands in my pockets. I take a moment before turning and forcing out my answer through an excruciatingly tight throat.
“I won’t let that happen.”
Rafe grunts. “There’s been chatter ’bout a guy from the Bureau. Speculation is, he’s workin’ both sides.”
Manny narrows his eyes. “And by working both sides, you mean…”
“Yeah.” That’s all I say in response. It’s all that’s necessary because he knows how bad this could be for us.
Santilla. Allegedly, there’s an agent in bed with Santilla.
Manny’s eyes close, and he scrubs a hand down his face wearily. “Fuck.”
“Listen, Manny. We got this. Ain’t no way in hell anybody’s gonna fuck it up for us. We’ve got too much goddamn time wrapped up in it.”
He lets out a weary chuckle, but some of the tension has eased from his face. “Nico, my friend. There aren’t many men I’d willingly step into the fire with. But I trust you.”
I hold his gaze and give a curt nod. “Then trust that this’ll be handled.”
49
Olivia
After Philip escorts me back to the congregating guests, content once I’ve accepted a glass of champagne from the waitstaff, he excuses himself.
Scanning the crowd, I war with whether to attempt to introduce myself and strike up a conversation with anyone. At any other time, I would mingle. It’s not like I can’t carry my own weight and need Nico here to babysit me. Right now, though, my mind is racing with what I overheard, and I simply need a moment alone.
I slip outside and retreat near the stucco barrier separating the patio from the infinity pool below that appears to flow into the bay waters. Luckily, the other guests haven’t chosen to escape the comfort of the air-conditioning to appreciate the tranquil view the estate affords.
I’ve always done my best thinking alone or distanced from others. Now is no different, although I have more to consider.
And considerably more to worry about.
My mind cycles through what I overheard, thinking about the visitor who stopped by my office on Monday.
“Like you need me to tell you about Santilla.”
“Or next time, she’ll have them aim for you instead.”
How would he know they were aiming for Nico? I never told anyone about the shooting. I’d been whisked out of there quickly enough. Additionally, I’d overheard Nico and Goliath’s conversation about the surrounding surveillance cameras conveniently suffering “technological issues.”
There’s no way he could’ve known they were aiming for Nico in the first place. Unless…
Icy dread fills my veins because there can only be one logical explanation when it comes to him. The bastard is somehow connected to Johanna Santilla.
But I was supposed to sit in the chair Nico took instead. They instructed me to sit in the chair facing east, and I hadn’t. Had they intended to shoot me? Someone had prepared to fire that bullet, so perhaps they anticipated Nico accompanying me.
Dammit, this is all a jumbled mess in my head. I could go ’round and ’round and not know anything for certain. I don’t have any concrete facts.
Tipping back the remainder of champagne in my flute, I swallow and carefully set the glass atop the flat stucco divide. I splay my hands on the rough surface and gaze out at the water. I’m not surprised when I hear the subtle sound of a sliding door,
but I hope with every fiber of my being that it’s someone venturing out here to take a call and not anyone seeking conversation with me.
When I sense a person approaching, I tense and toss a glance over my shoulder. At the sight of Manny, I’m caught between being grateful it isn’t someone else, but also wary that he’s singling me out like this.
He says nothing as he casually steps beside me, leaving a respectable amount of space between us, and focuses on the view. We stand quietly for a long moment before I attempt polite conversation.
“Thank you for hosting a wonderful party.”
I glance over at him, and a tiny smile teases at his lips, but he doesn’t turn to face me. “A wonderful party, you say? Yet you’re out here, seeking solitude.”
I tease, “Just as you are, perhaps?”
His eyes crinkle at the corners and he chuckles, turning to settle his attention on me. “Or I was concerned about you.”
I shake my head. “No need for concern.” With a little sigh, I take in the view again. “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take this all in.”
“It never gets old for me. I knew as soon as the property came available that it would be my forever home.”
Scanning our surrounding area, I remark, “It’s absolutely gorgeous here.”
“Gracias.”
I hesitate a beat before asking, “Do you get to fully enjoy it? I wasn’t sure if you were retired or still working.”
“If you’re asking how I paid for all of this, it was through hard work and long hours. And a lot of regrets.” His focus settles on the gleaming waters of the bay, moonlight reflecting on the surface, and his expression sobers, voice turning softer. “Back then, I always wanted more, but it never seemed to be enough. Then I lost it all, even though I had everything any man could ever want.”
His words are a bit baffling, but I remain quiet as he pauses, and I sense that he’s working through memories.
Tentatively, I ask, “It’s a beautiful home, and pardon me for being so bold to say it, but—”
Amusement has the corners of his eyes crinkling. “It’s ostentatious for only one man.”
My eyes go wide with fear that I’ve insulted him, but he waves me off with a soft chuckle. “I once loved a woman who I thought would live here with me. Raise a family.” Expression turning somber, he adds, “I lost her. My dearest friend, too. All because of my arrogance.
“I watched this life kill her right before my eyes.” His expression grows haunted as he stares off in the distance, falling silent, visibly captive to his thoughts.
I don’t prod him further. Standing close like this, I’m granted a candid study of his profile. There’s a familiar quality about him that has something in the back of my mind taking notice, yet I can’t quite pinpoint what it is.
“Since you’re here with Nico, I assume you’re aware of what kind of business he handles.” When he glances at me, I offer a brief nod.
He turns back to peer at the bay. “I got involved deeper than I should’ve back then. But once you dip your toe in”—his mouth flattens in distaste—“it’s like quicksand. You’re sucked in, and there’s no way out. Nico’s changed things, though. Since he took over, things aren’t quite as…mercurial.”
Manny shifts to face me fully. “Nico’s a good man. Smart. Smarter than he lets on.” A smile tugs at his lips. “He reminds me a lot of my younger self, especially when he looks at you. His heart’s in his eyes when they find you.”
It feels like all the blood leaves my face, leaving me light-headed. He can’t possibly be implying that Nico loves me, can he? Hope blooms inside me while logic simultaneously battles against it, and I know I can’t allow the idea of him loving me—as unlikely as it is—to take root. It holds the power to eclipse everything, much like ivy that grows uninhibited, masking everything in its path.
“Oh, I don’t think…” I trail off, at a loss for words.
He holds up a hand with a knowing, understanding smile. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Sadness bleeds into his features. “I just know that if I had to do it all over again, I’d do it much differently.” Turning his attention to the house and the contained din of voices and clattering of hors d'oeuvres plates, he lets out a sigh so full of wistful melancholy that it has my lungs tightening painfully. “I’d have changed the path I was on back then.”
I’m not certain what makes me say it, but I do. “It’s never too late to change the path you’re on. To right past wrongs.”
When his eyes find mine, remorse radiates from him. The barest trace of a smile graces his lips as he answers softly, “I hope you’re right.”
50
Nico
“You okay, Professor?” I dart a concerned look at Olivia while we walk through the foyer.
She’s been quiet on the ride home. A sad kind of quiet, and not the I’m planning to turn you over to the cops kind. It serves as additional proof that I’m a fucking goner over this woman because I’m more concerned over her being sad. If that isn’t fucked up, I don’t know what is.
“I’m fine,” she offers quickly, a whisper of a smile gracing her lips.
I draw to a stop, giving a slight tug on our laced fingers, and cup her cheek. “I ain’t no Casanova, but I know when a woman says she’s fine, it’s the opposite.”
Her gaze searches my face before she catches me by surprise and presses her lips briefly to mine. “Just something I was mulling over.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
She glances at both ends of the hall, noting my men standing guard. I’ve ensured we have the necessary protection in place, especially since I can’t afford for anything to happen to Olivia. Not with so much shit hanging in the balance.
Hesitance laces her tone. “I still need to grab my clothes for work tomorrow. Then maybe we can talk about it in bed?”
I drop my hand from her face and run it down the back of my head, gripping the suddenly tense muscles in my neck. Her eyes change from soft to suspicious in a flash.
“Nico…” She tips her head to the side. “What’s wrong?”
Yeah, Olivia’s stayed in my room this week, but she’s been bringing her work clothes over each day. I took the initiative to have one of my guys move all her clothes and shoes into my master closet.
I wince. “Look, I got a little carried away ’cause I like havin’ you with me every night and every mornin’. So, I…had your stuff moved to my room.” I clear my throat nervously—fuck—and correct myself. “To our room.”
She remains silent for so long that sweat breaks out on my forehead. Dammit. I was hoping she’d be okay with it. She seemed happy this week, falling into a routine with me. The only blip on the radar was when Rafe told me a little shitstain teaching assistant had apparently dropped by her office on Monday to ask her out.
I can’t blame him for being interested in my woman. Olivia’s fucking perfect. But I’ve got his name and address just in case. She never mentioned that interaction, but if she does and he’s still sniffing around after this, I won’t hesitate to track him down and fuck him up.
The woman’s stubborn as hell, but she’s also smart enough to know when to ask me for help if she needs it. Judging from her silence, I figure he’s nothing to worry about.
For now.
Dark lashes sweeping in a blink, Olivia’s face transforms as if someone’s shining a spotlight on her. “Our room, huh?” Her voice is low, with a thread of vulnerability.
Dipping my head, I rest my forehead against hers, needing the connection. “Yeah. You cool with that?” I close my eyes as if it’ll protect me from her possible rejection.
Goddamn, I’m acting like I haven’t faced down dangerous motherfuckers who’d shoot their own moms in the head if it served their purpose. It’s taken me a shit ton of work, sacrifice, and blood spilled to get here—to be at the top—and I’ve never been on edge like this, faced with the fear of a woman shunning me.
I’m so fucked.
&nb
sp; When she whispers, “I’m cool with it,” the tension in my body eases. I blink my eyes open and ease back to peer down at her.
“Yeah?”
Her smile is so goddamn sweet. Those gorgeous eyes of hers shine with what I hope is even a fraction of what I feel for her.
I nod, attempting to school my features, but fail. There’s no way in hell I could wipe the grin off my face right now. “Good. That’s real good.”
She laughs and tugs at my hand. “C’mon then, Mr. Alcanzar. Time’s a-wastin’.”
I don’t even think—I just scoop her up in my arms, honeymoon-style, and rush down the hall to the bedroom.
“Nico.” She laughs, looping her arms around my neck. When she presses a chaste kiss to my cheek, I swear it goes straight to my damn heart. She trails kisses along my jawline, and when her teeth nip at my earlobe, a low growl rumbles up from deep in my chest.
“Woman, you better prepare for once I get you inside.” I’m almost to the bedroom door.
She laughs softly against my neck. “Is that so?”
I step inside and kick the door shut behind us. Striding to the bed, I lower her to her feet beside it and force myself to step back and take in the sight of her.
Her dress is one-shouldered, and I swear, the sight of that bare shoulder drove me out of my damn mind tonight. I wanted to shove her in a dark corner and put my mouth all over it—all over her. She made it a challenge to keep my mind on work.
“Nico…” she breathes, a hint of vulnerability flashing across her beautiful face. Reaching for the zipper, she lowers it and peels her dress down, revealing a black strapless bra. The sight of it has my lungs burning, alerting me to the fact that I stopped breathing. Jesus.
She lets her dress drop to the floor, pooling at her feet, and steps out of it. Her tiny excuse for a thong matches her bra, and my fingers itch to shred it instantly.
“You’re overdressed.” She watches me expectantly as she lowers herself to the edge of the bed, not taking her eyes off me, and removes her heels. Her hair shifts with her movements, the silky midnight-black ends grazing her jaw.
