“THIS IS OUT OF THIS WORLD,” I shout over the loud music.
At one end of the two-floor nightclub, a DJ duo wearing banana costumes spins remixes of songs with bass loud enough to shake every cell in my body.
“Wait until I take you to Ibiza.” Nico winks before turning his attention back to the dance floor, searching through the pool of damp, thrashing bodies and wafts of cigarette smoke and neon lights.
Our hands link, his grip tight around my fingers, and I follow behind him. The collar on Nico’s linen button-down shifts, revealing the bite mark I left yesterday.
“Fucking Nico.” A voice booms over the music, sending our gazes to the balcony hanging over the dance floor. The source is a flushed, round- faced man with brown hair. He waves over at us, his poorly-fitted shirt exposing a hairy chest.
Must be the famous cofounder of Flight Falcon. The nerves I managed with Tate and Tara don’t come this time.
“Keith!” Nico yells back at his friend as we ascend the steps. Then we pass through the velvet rope leading into the VIP section guarded by two large bouncers.
“Hey, brother.” The two swarm each other with a bear-hug embrace, my hand still linked to Nico’s. “It’s Klaus now, actually. I’m on a rebranding kick. Sounds cool, yeah?”
“Whatever you say, dude.” Nico proudly presents me to his friend. “This is Lily.”
“A right pleasure. Come, come.” The man wraps me into a hug that lasts far too long. “Nice to meet you.”
“Klaus? Like Klaus Mikaelson?” I shout over the music and into Nico’s ear. “From The Vampire Diaries?”
Nico shrugs. “He’s always trying to change his image.” Alright. Klaus it is.
Let’s hope he doesn’t plan to turn into a vampire and rebrand this club into a slaughterhouse.
We are guided to the edge of Klaus’s table, where he rattles off the names of his posse. Bottles of vintage Veuve Clicquot litter the tabletop, and sitting on the surrounding couches are five beautiful women, each one the definition of stunning. A few guys are tucked in between them like anchovies. Fog coats all of their thick-framed sunglasses.
Everyone bombards us with hugs and kisses.
In the chaos, Nico drops my hand, and my eyes snag on one of the women with curled strands of lustrous platinum-blonde hair and a straight nose. She stains her glossed lips on Nico’s cheek.
All trace of calm leaves me when the rest of the leggy party flocks around my grinning buffoon. They shower him with lingering touches and excited glances. My ears are about to flare with steam.
I need a fucking drink.
A tray of clear liquor sits on the table with shot glasses filled to the brim. I tip back one of the drinks.
Grey Goose.
“You didn’t wait for me?” Nico’s arm wraps around my waist, pulling my back to his chest.
I grab another shot glass, lift it behind me, and knock it against Nico’s lips. He gulps the vodka without a beat of hesitation.
Nico yanks my body tighter, and a sudden clutch of irrationality encases
me.
I turn and lock my mouth with his in a long, greedy kiss. His hand
drives up the front of my glittering dress. I’m marking him as my territory like a dog lifting its leg on its favorite hydrant.
What’s wrong with me?
We break, and the table cheers for our erotic performance.
I laugh off the brief loss of sanity despite a couple of side-eyed glances aimed my way. Maybe I don’t like sharing. Maybe Nico was on to
something with his no-other-people rule.
I feel the undeniable drill of a stare and glance over to the far section of the VIP balcony.
The piercing eyes of a man meet mine.
He’s conventionally my type: smug, maybe a decent lay. Probably has a name like Carrington or Everett St. James of the Royal House of Jackass.
I guess this make of man is international.
My mind replays the countless similar nights I’ve spent in New York, entertaining guys who look like him in places as extravagant as this. He’d waste his night trying to load me up on drinks and walking me through his stock portfolio.
That’s typically my favorite flavor of man to turn into a blubbering, needy, lovestruck fool.
But the excitement I’d usually feel at the prospect of a conquest has subdued. No—it’s gone completely dormant. Likely due to Nico’s hand resting at the base of my spine, his thumb swiping at the exposed skin in my low-back dress.
“Do you want a bad guy, Lily?” Nico returns to my ear, catching the binocular eyes stalking me from the end of the balcony.
“Only to ruin them.”
“I guess I’ve been bad since I’m already ruined by you.”
My gaze flicks away from the would-be prey and onto the polar- opposite man at my side. “You’re too sweet for all that.”
“You’re right.”
“You really fancy my lad here?” Klaus interrupts us, hanging his meaty arm around our shoulders. “Mate’s never been easy to hold down.”
“We’re friends,” I clarify, reaching for a drink a waitress places on the table. “My best friend married his brother.”
“Keeping it in the family…” Klaus says something else, but the music trembles through the club.
I’m happy I don’t catch whatever inappropriate joke he makes.
He rambles on to Nico until someone appears at my side, pulling my attention away from the conversation entirely.
Ah, the steward from the Royal House of Jackass.
“Hello, beautiful.” The man from the balcony reaches for my hand. “I’m Zacharia Prescott.”
Bold. I gotta give him props.
I’m snuggled in a three-way hug with two other men, and even that’s not enough repellent to keep him away.
My favorite voice shouts, “I’m Nico.” He takes the stranger’s hand in a firm embrace that flickers a wince across Zacharia’s face.
“Is this your brother?” Zacharia’s eyes slide from mine to Nico’s. “And my lover,” I yell.
Zacharia’s eyes grow wide, and he slowly backs away.
I sit next to one of the smiling women at Klaus’s table. She smiles at
me.
“So, how do you know Klaus?” I ask.
“Next-door neighbor. Invited me and my friends for the free booze.”
She tips her glass to mine. “I’m Ren, by the way.”
After countless shots and cocktails, everyone at our table finds themselves on the dance floor.
The cold blast from the air-conditioning tingles against my skin. I throw my hands in the air, rolling my hips to the rhythm of the bass.
“I feel fucking incredible,” I shout at no one in particular. My eyes shut as I bounce along to the music.
“You are.” Nico’s scent of firelight, sandalwood, and musk envelops me despite the mass of bodies around us. The familiar stir of hunger for him awakens.
Will the feeling ever go away, or am I damned to erupt like a grenade around him for the rest of time? We lock eyes—it’s one of those things that’s impossible to avoid—and I drape my hands over his shoulders.
“I’ve always wanted to try something,” I tell him. “What’s that, pretty girl?”
I rip open the front of Nico’s shirt, sending the buttons onto the floor and exposing every inch of his mouth-watering chest.
Yeah, that was as hot as I imagined.
Nico beams, wrapping the strap of my dress between his fingers. “What if I repay the favor?”
“I’m sure everyone would enjoy that because I’m not wearing any panties.”
His eyes are shadowed by a lust-filled darkness. “You’re killing me, Lil.”
The song’s tempo boils over into a satisfying drop, and everyone in the club sings wildly to a familiar chorus. Nico chases each movement of my
body, caressing all of me at once. I soften into sap beneath his touch. We dance around, exchanging liquored kisses and dirty talk that has me moments from abandoning the night out.
That is until Ren waves her pale hand in front of my face, motioning toward the long line for the women’s bathroom in the far corner of the nightclub.
“Take someone else,” I shout, disregarding girl code beneath Nico’s touch.
She shakes her head back and forth, a pleading expression in her eyes. Alright, there’s no way I can let her go by herself.
“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.” My voice is airy in Nico’s ear. I give his lobe a slight nip before breaking our sensual vortex.
The line at the bathroom has multiplied. This is going to take hours. I crane my neck around the other side. Of course, the men’s bathroom is empty.
“Come on.” I take Ren’s hand in mine and push open the door. Random guys whoop when our heels clatter toward their sewer-smelling toilets. We shove ourselves into a big stall. Ren pulls down her underwear and crouches over the seat.
“You’re a lifesaver,” she beams.
The room spins around me. “Seven years of bartending puts some tricks up your sleeve.”
“Sixteen-year-old me would cringe if she knew I was wasted in a club, pissing in a men’s toilet.”
A snort chokes out of me. We never truly grow up. “Sixteen-year-old me would probably have a heart attack.”
“What?” Ren continues to hover over the mildewy bowl. “You weren’t always a rebellious hottie?”
Not at all. The girl I was over ten years ago feels further from me than I do from home right now. “The middle child of two successful sisters. I barely had a voice, let alone a personality.”
“You mean boys weren’t dropping at your feet?”
There has to be a universal rule for women congregating in bathrooms on a long night out: we spill secrets and make friends for life. All the other bullshit doesn’t matter as we bitch about all the people who broke our hearts along the way to this moment.
“I dated my first boyfriend for three years before the asshole cheated on me,” I confess. “Nothing like walking in on the love of your life getting sucked off in your kitchen.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
“Let me guess, he was the perfect combination of gorgeous and asshole.” Ren flushes the toilet, tugging her panties on.
“Are you a mind reader?” I swap places with her to hover in my unsteady heels over the bowl.
She drapes herself against the handrailing in the stall. “I’ve been scorned in the past.”
Chuck was the first guy I’d ever felt interested in, the first one I brought home to meet my parents. Top of his class, an absolute heartthrob with the most divine blue eyes. He was only a year older than me and looked moments away from walking onto the set of a whiskey commercial.
Suave and sexy.
Everyone wanted Chuck, but Chuck, for whatever reason at the time, wanted me.
“The first time I brought him home, my sister called me out when we kissed in the kitchen while cleaning up.”
Even so many years later, the day is a vivid replay in my mind. The way he pushed me against the sink, smothering my lips with his. How my heart raced as quick as a bird’s wings fighting through strong wind. The taste of my mother’s mashed potatoes still faintly on his tongue.
“Fucking siblings!” Ren says. “My younger sister would’ve done the same thing.”
“Tell me about it. I thought my parents were going to disown me right then and there, but they shrugged it off.” I’d wanted them to care and get mad like the parents in the movies did. “So, as any wise fifteen-year-old does, I thought, Fuck it, and kissed him right there at the table again.”
“The origin story of a badass.”
“Always starts with some asshole, doesn’t it?”
There wasn’t a rebellious bone in my body back then. All my time was spent writing silly stories with no grand plans beyond that. On the other hand, Chuck was weeks away from a banking internship before starting his freshman year at college. That’s probably why my parents welcomed him with open arms; he was someone to care for their directionless daughter.
“Before I met Klaus, I had one of those too. Engaged and everything. It took one wake-up call from a friend to realize I was more in love with the idea of love than the douchebag who made me believe what we had was enough.”
“I’m assuming you and Klaus aren’t actually neighbors?” I wipe, finish my hovering, and flush the toilet on the way up.
Ren snickers. “We had casual sex for years in college,” she confesses. “Somewhere, somehow, it turned into my greatest friendship. I hate labels, but he insisted there was no one else better suited for him. Almost nine years later, and here we are. He makes me feel alive even if he’s a bit silly.”
Could that become me and Nico?
Casual sex turned into a label-less relationship? Is that even something I could manage?
My curiosity itches for more. “Are you happy?”
She nods. “Yes, I think so. What about you? With Nico? He’s gorgeous.”
I don’t bother rehearsing the same we’re-just-friends routine. Maybe we’re exactly what she and Klaus are. “For the first time in my life, I feel like I can be entirely myself with someone.”
“Nothing like it.”
True. I’ve been coming to terms with the fact ever since we landed in London. Nico makes me feel alive. He makes me feel like every part of me, the good and the ugly, are worthy of being cherished.
“Let’s get the fuck out, or we’ll start smelling like whatever died in here.” We topple out of the bathroom, and in the shortest breath, Ren’s swept away into the sea of people.
Great.
My eyes do their best to locate Nico, Ren, Klaus, or any of the people we met earlier this evening, but I have no luck between the strobe lights and the onslaught of smoke. I reach for my phone and only need a second to notice the two small bars of service. I hope for the best as I dial Nico’s number.
There’s no way he’s going to hear this, but I know he has his phone on him.
The ringing bleats in my ear, barely audible beneath the heavy bounce of house music from the speakers.
For fuck’s sake.
LILY
Where are you?
I shoot Nico the text before tucking my phone back into my bra and rushing into the crowd of people, throwing shoulders and elbows through the dancing bodies.
I find him a few breaths later.
“Nico!” I shout, tugging at the shirt I ripped open earlier, but when he turns, it’s not Nico at all. A crooked nose, eyes as wide as mine, and the scatter of a beard stare back at me.
“Hey, sexy,” the strange man shouts through a smile that makes it look like he’s won the lotto.
I ignore him and ditch the dance floor, fighting to wriggle out of his grasp.
Where the fuck is Nico?
My palms sweat, and I yank out my phone; no texts and no calls. This is exactly like the time in Brazil all over again. He’s probably ditched me in this club, stalking off with someone more important than me, the moment I left him on the dance floor.
No.
Fuck that.
This isn’t my fault at all.
I rush up the stairs to the sectioned-off balcony VIP, itching to grab my bag and find my way back to the hotel. When I try to push past two oversized bouncers, my body ricochets back a step.
“Where’s your wristband?”
Were we meant to get wristbands?
“I was here earlier. I’m with Keith—no, Klaus.” I peer around their massive shoulders, trying to see if there’s anyone at our table, but it’s empty.
One of the bouncers eyes the clipboard in his hand, tapping on his earpiece as if he’s some secret agent. I read over the nametag pinned to his shirt: Collum. “We don’t have that name here.”
“Oh, come on, Collum, my friends ditched me, and I only need to get my things.”
They both shake their heads, leaving me shaking in my heels.
Whatever.
At least I have my phone, and it’s fully charged this time. I should be able to figure it out from here.
My eyes scan the dance floor one more time, this time from the height of the spiral staircase. Just when I’m ready to give up hope, I see Nico. And my heart collapses.
His bare torso glistens beneath the prism of lights. Damp strands of hair bounce around on his forehead. He throws his head back, dancing with Klaus, his friends, and the pretty posse.
Between the sea of limbs, a pair of dainty hands stretches across Nico’s chest. The beautiful platinum-blonde from earlier trails her fingers down the skin I can still taste on my tongue. A dimpled smile crosses her face.
“That fucking jerk.”
Here I was in the bathroom, professing my feelings about him to a stranger, and Nico’s dancing with a leggy supermodel. A spike of anger coils in my stomach.
Wasn’t he the one to preach no other people? Did he think that rule applied to only me? I knew all that “trust me” and “only you” shit was nonsense.
But I thought, no, I hoped something like this wouldn’t happen.
That I wouldn’t have to worry about him running off with someone else the moment I was out of reach. Seeing him with another woman is like a knife to my heart. My stomach sours the same way it did all those years ago.
My scattered gaze lands on the mucky jackass from earlier, who’s still lingering in the VIP area. I kick into gear, flashing him my sweetest smile and gesturing to the two bouncers on the top of the stairs. Zacharia appears at the railing in a few steps.
“She’s with me.” He slips the bouncers a couple of bills, and I break through the fleshy gates toward my pawn.
“Thanks, I lost my wristband,” I lie and feign a wave of my wrist at him, ignoring the string of lavender that Nico gave me.
Wretched fuck buddy bracelet.
“So, the guy you were with isn’t your brother, right?” Zacharia’s drunken voice soils my senses, and the change of plans feels ridiculous.
“Of course not.” I roll my eyes and the reminder of Nico’s betrayal sears my thoughts. “He’s not my lover either.”
Nico’s just a friend.
A friend who managed to cause my heart to collapse on itself.
Maybe this is foolish. Maybe I misread the situation, but I know what I saw with my own eyes.
I could get my purse and get out of here, pack my suitcase, and be on the first flight out tomorrow.
But it looks like we’re breaking all the rules now. I’m already here.
Might as well have some fun.
Beats going home to clean up the shards from my chipped heart. How pathetic would that be?
“You’re a hot broad.” Zacharia looks down at me.
“I know.” I give him a tight smile, resisting the urge to look down at the dance floor and search for Nico in the crowd.
“No need to get cocky.” What is wrong with men? Fucking forbid I’m aware of my appearance as though I don’t spend effort, time, and money to look as gorgeous as I do. Cold hands land on my hips, and I let them. “Next time, say thanks.”
Don’t look for Nico.
Zacharia spins me around, and I slam against a solid mass.
My gaze scrambles into Nico’s. His body is rigid and unmoving.
“I’ll take it from here, buddy.” Nico’s voice is dark, loaded with a charge I’ve never heard. He circles his fingers around my wrist. I try to resist, but my crooked balance does little to keep a steady connection from my brain to my feet.
My dance partner holds onto me for dear life. His nails are practically digging into my sides, and I’m stuck in a game of Lily-tug-of-war. “We’re having fun, mate.”
“Hands off,” Nico growls like some virile beast has made a home in his body.
There’s no use in denying it. Despite the fact he abandoned me yet again, I’m ready to mount him on the VIP balcony, mouth foaming, lungs screaming, as whatever spell of possession that’s come over him drives itself into me.
I’m going to need to see a therapist when I get back to New York. “I can take care of myself,” I seethe when Zacharia releases me. “Don’t I fucking know it?” Nico’s grip loosens, and he turns.
I could just stay here.
Instead, I follow him down the stairs, through the crowd, and up another set of steps at the edge of the stage.
Nico hacks away at the monstrous banana leaf palms on either side of the entrance until I’m pinned against a curtained wall. His labored breath pierces me like bullets.
“How many times do I have to remind you, princesa?” Nico’s hands find their way into my hair, and he pulls the strands this time. The pain splinters at my nape, instantly flooding my core. “No other people.”
How fucking dare he.
My knees are weak. Wetness gathers between my legs and slicks along my thighs.
I deeply regret not wearing any panties.
Yeah, definitely need intensive therapy. As soon as possible.
“You ditched me to dance with someone else,” I yell over the music, and the grasp on my hair loosens.
He shakes his head. “I didn’t leave. I was waiting for you right where you left me.”
“Don’t fucking lie, Nico. I saw you. It’s just like Brazil. You didn’t think I was important. You found someone else to keep you entertained.”
“I looked for you after Ren came back, but couldn’t find you, so I went back to where we were dancing so you could find me.”
The rush in my heart refuses to let up. “I found you alright, dancing with another woman.”
“What woman? What are you talking about?”
“The bleached blonde.” I try to move, but Nico’s body keeps me hemmed in. “The gorgeous runway model who had her hands all over you?”
“Ren’s friend? I told her to get lost, Lil. There isn’t anyone else. Ever.” A drop of guilt lands in my chest, but I swallow hard, washing it away.
“I hate your rule. All the fucking rules. We’re both single, Nico. If you want to dance with a pretty girl, then be my guest.”
Our chests heave against each other, a current charging between us.
“You’re all I want.” The beast growls into my ear again, the thick, guttural sound shakes my bones. Nico yanks my jaw toward his. My body purrs beneath him. “For fuck’s sake, Lily, I’m falling—”
“Shut up.” I kiss him furiously, trying to drown out the words I don’t have the capacity to hear right now.
No.
Absolutely not.
He’s drunk. I’m drunk.
A moment ago, I thought he’d completely abandoned me again and now we’re up against a wall. We couldn’t have gotten here so quickly. Nico almost saying words I don’t know if I can return, let alone feel.
This can’t happen.
“I would crawl to the end of the fucking earth for a taste of you.” His voice is aching. “No one else.”
Nico practically feasts on me, claiming every square inch of my mouth, body, and soul.
“No one else,” I manage to say, fumbling for the straining hardness in his pants.
And the worst fucking part of it all? I mean it.
The storm of jealousy and hurt when I saw him with someone else spells it out for me, loud and clear.
I’m falling for Nico Navarro.
Fuck.
Is this what it’s meant to feel like? Reckless and secure all at the same time?
I’ve never had love handed to me before, not without deceit and pain tagging along. My hands lack the muscle memory to reach for it or surrender to him in return.
I can’t.
Especially not with how painful it was seeing him with someone else.
Our devouring kisses don’t break pace as we meld into one, and our hands roam wildly across each other’s bodies. My legs part when Nico roughly sends his fingers below the hem of my dress.
We’re going to fuck right here, right now, and there’s isn’t a way to stop
it.
Suddenly, Nico’s ripped away from me.
My eyes widen, and the swollen half of my bottom lip hangs open. “Mate, if you’re gonna shag your broad”—a titan of a man grasps Nico
by the neck of his shirt—“get the bloody hell off the emergency exit.”
The drilling in my ears halts when I detach from the wall behind me. “Who the fuck are you?” I shout at the giant.
“Pipe down, doll.”
That’s it.
You don’t mess around with my man or me without paying for it.
In a blink, my right fist connects with the man’s jaw. The force shoots a sharp burn up my knuckles and into my shoulder blade. He doesn’t even budge, brows raised at me as if I’d brushed a crumb of pastry off his meaty chin.
“Fuck.” That hurts so, so badly.
What am I doing? I haven’t punched someone in years.
My eyes land on the man’s black shirt, scanning the name attached to his chest. Collum.
Oh, shit.
I punched a bouncer. That’s a major no-no.
“Good hook, hon. Hit with your knuckles next time, and it’ll hurt more,” Collum bleats at me before hoisting me over his shoulder. “That’s enough fun for the night.”
“Who are you?” Nico’s palms connect with either side of my face as I hang upside down.
“A fucking badass!” I scream, the blood rushing to my skull. “With balls of fucking steel.”
“I’m so attracted to you right now,” Nico shouts back.
 |
“FIRST NIGHT I see you in years, you get me kicked out of my own club.” Klaus pats Nico on the back as we exit the elevator onto the brightly lit penthouse.
“We were in your club?” I ask, still trying to subdue the adrenaline rush from punching someone.
“Silent partner.” Klaus winks at me and proceeds down the mirrored hallway.
“It was dead anyways.” Ren leans her head on Klaus’s shoulder.
We enter a great room with oversized abstract paintings that match a sleek modern interior. White couches are scattered around the hardwood floor, accompanied by large chairs and a fur rug. Huge windows open onto a balcony with a lit fire pit. London’s skyline glints in the distance.
How many apps has this guy sold? I could’ve sworn at one point Nico mentioned Klaus was technically unemployed.
The more my eyes take in the penthouse, the more I feel off-kilter. I thought Molly’s townhome was extravagant, but this is lavish.
“Your home is stunning,” I say, and Klaus nods.
Nico’s arm snakes around my back, and he walks me toward the couches. My spell of sobriety almost forces me to instinctively pull away, especially after the drunken realization at the club, but fuck it. It’s nice to be held. It’s nice to be someone’s only one for a night.
“What do you do, Klaus?” I yell as our host places a record on his vinyl player.
“Lately, not much.” He lowers the needle and a soft tune fills the large apartment. Klaus walks back over to where Ren swirls a metal stirrer in a glass. “The club was probably my most recent investment since Nico and I sold Flight Falcon to Viggle. Also, I’m an early investor in Ren’s new clothing line in Tokyo.”
“Oh.”
If this is how Klaus lives, then it could only mean…
“When you sold Flight Falcon, did you split the profits evenly?” I whisper to Nico.
“Yeah.” He shrugs.
“And you have a six-figure tech job back in California?” “Seven-figure, but yes. What are you getting at?”
The entire Navarro family is well-off, but I don’t think I ever wrapped my mind around Nico’s wealth until now. My brain pieces together the spontaneous splurges, first class seats, and thousands of dollars spent on clothes and drinks over the past couple of weeks.
“You’re rich rich.” I turn to him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Most people don’t go around sharing their bank account balances.” “When I left New York, I had $2,023 to my name.” As of our first step
on London soil, the amount has multiplied tenfold because of Coastal Fling’s success. It still feels entirely unreal.
“That’s almost how much I have, except you add on about five more zeros.”
“Five?”
“Look, I don’t flaunt it like Keith—sorry, Klaus.” Nico tips his head toward his friend. “He’s found things to spend on that bring him joy. And
it’s a damn cliche, but I’ve had dates treat me differently when they found out I have this much money.”
It’s impossible to ignore my writer’s brain screaming about how billionaire romances always sell. Who doesn’t love a rich man? But…
Does Nico think I’m taking advantage of him?
“You spoil me all the time…”
“Because I like to and because you’ve never made me feel like a blank checkbook waiting to be signed.”
My nose scrunches with a cringe. “I would like you without all the things you buy me,” I confess.
“And I would go broke trying to make you smile.” He brushes my hair out of my face, and if we weren’t inside his friend’s home, it would be impossible to resist climbing on him right here.
“Sure.” I try to focus the conversation on something other than the need building in my body. My eyes knock down to the growing erection in his pants. All hopes are lost. “What do you spend your money on, then? Besides me.”
“You’re living it. Usually trips, things for my parents, but I mostly invest, help fund new companies.” He leans over to me. “Lately, spoiling you has made me exceedingly happy.”
I gulp before snuggling closer into him.
“But, if you have this much money, why keep your job at Viggle?” I’m not sure I’d work a day in my life if I saw so many zeros in my bank balance.
He strokes his thumb along my tattered friendship bracelet, the lavender string almost falling apart. “I love my job, and doing something you love doesn’t feel like work. I can travel whenever I want, and it brings me joy to create new useful things. I can’t imagine not having something to tether me.”
“For someone as nomadic as you, it’s a surprise you’ve stayed at your job for so long.”
“It’s the one constant in my life, plus the headquarters are close to my parents’ house, and I like to check in on them whenever I want.”
His words are also a reminder that Nico lives three thousand miles away from New York, probably in a beautiful home that’s close to his family and the job he loves.
My mood sours slightly.
Why does it matter anyway? I know this is going to end.
“You two done having a snog on my brand-new sofas to join us for some drinks?” Klaus’s voice echoes across the room.
Nico looks at me as if asking whether I’m satisfied with my questioning. I give him a quick nod, and we get up to join Klaus and Ren.
“How long have you been traveling together?” Klaus directs his question at me.
“Since the beginning of summer, so a little over a month and a half.”
“Wow, and he’s still living and breathing?” He wraps Nico into a half hug. “You must be on your best behavior because the only people who can handle this man have the patience of saints.”
“I could say the same about you, which is probably why we’re friends,” Nico teases.
“Did you tell Lily the story about when we were studying abroad, and we went to the music festival in Capri?”
I eye Nico suspiciously. “No.”
“He bought the tickets for the event, but forgot to book a hotel. All weekend we ended up drinking until we passed out for a few hours on random benches until we could go again,” Klaus jests. “I think it was the last trip I ever let you plan.”
Nico rolls his eyes. “And we thank you for enlightening all of us here with the memory.”
“Let’s just say there’s a reason I did all the operations for Flight Falcon. He’s a brainiac with the keyboard, but organization or taking care of others is definitely not his strong suit.”
The comment unsettles something in my chest. “Really? Because he actually planned our entire three-month trip,” I boast, feeling defensive over Nico.
Klaus knocks on his friend’s head. “Are you sure you’re the same person?”
“People can change.”
“That they can.” Klaus winks at me.
“Klaus, am I doing this right?” Ren rattles the metal cocktail shaker.
Liquid bursts onto the white marble counters of the kitchen.
“Oh dear.” Klaus’s voice trembles with panic as he takes the shaker away from her. Then he and Nico scramble for towels to help dry off Ren’s dress. “Remember, no bubbles in the shaker, darling.”
Ren’s label-less partner pulls her hands in his and pats them dry.
“I always forget. Can you do it?” She giggles, but from the narrowing of her angular brown eyes, I can tell she’s fucking with him.
I love her for it.
“Actually, let me make us some drinks,” I offer.
I search Klaus’s liquor cabinet, which is outfitted with enough top-shelf bottles to serve a crowd of fifty. Muscle memory takes over, and I pull out a few colorful liquors to mix for our small group.
“You’re a professional,” Klaus muses, watching my movements. “Lily used to be a bartender,” Nico says proudly.
Used to be.
Best to not let that reality ruin my evening. I fill a shot glass and toss back the straight absinthe.
“Used to be? What do you do now?” his friend probes.
Nico’s smiling profusely, the words TELL THEM almost blaring in neon red on his forehead. The swarm of nerves I expected never comes.
Instead, I’m overcome with courage.
“I’m writing novellas while I get my business degree.”
That sounds so cool. Even if the reality isn’t quite that right now.
I haven’t written since we landed in London. All my free time has been entirely consumed with Nico, especially now that he doesn’t have his daily surf lessons. The brief break from writing has been nice. I’ve finally let myself be selfish and enjoy this summer rather than continuing to lament my doomsday situation.
No job. Bestseller. Fall semester.
Nico grins at me.
“That’s so lovely!” Ren exclaims. “I always wanted to write, but I’m definitely better at sketching than jotting down words. Can we read your work?”
“If you don’t mind a bit of romance and erotica.” An unwelcome blush creeps up my chest.
Not again. All this blushing is becoming ridiculous.
“Erotica? Okay, I adore you even more than I did a second ago.” Ren pulls me into a brief embrace. I glance over at Nico, whose expression is too boastful for my liking. He winks at me, throwing a casual thumbs-up. “Ugh, it all makes sense now.” Ren’s voice sings in my ear. “You ooze sex.
It’s why you’re so fucking hot. Klaus, can you believe there’s an author in our flat?”
“A bestselling author,” Nico corrects her, and my eyes roll across the room.
“To Lily.” Klaus raises one of the finished cocktails into the air, and we all mimic his reach. “A bloody bestselling author.”
We sip our drinks, and the flavors of Lily’s French Kiss warm over my taste buds.
“Okay, if your books are even half as good as your drinks, I’m sold.” Ren sets down her empty glass on the island.
“They’re way better.” Nico winks at me. “The bestseller is about me.” Ren beams. “Is it really?”
“Of course not.” I shrug Nico off. “His ego is huge.”
He chuckles, and the sound snakes around my veins, pulling me under his control.
For several days, my heart has been soaring with the realization of how good sex can be when you’re with someone who makes you come and laugh in the same breath.
It’s just sex.
I force the reminder to replay in my head like an alarm with a broken snooze button.
Just sex that loosens my inhibitions and worries.
Just sex that makes it clear that Nico has memorized the texture of the fabric woven through me, the patterns of who I am, and even the clusters of pulled strings and knots.
In the depths of my soul, I know I’m treading dangerous territory by entertaining any of these feelings toward him.
We’re two friends having sex. That’s what we’re good at; it’s what I’m good at.
Lust. Passion. Fire. Not love.
I simply need a reminder that the only thing between us is sex.
