“—and I might recruit him just so I can marry him.”
If Nikolett could see the inside of his head right now, the jealousy, rage, and fear that were tinting his thoughts burgundy, she’d have Maxim shoot him.
He held onto his control with both hands, trying to stammer out something that didn’t make him sound like a possessive, asshole brute.
What he wanted to say was:
“You’re not going to marry anyone but me, because even though you deserve better, no one could ever love you like I do.
I’ve been an asshole to you but I promise to spend the rest of my life loving you.
Also, I’ll kill anyone who touches you, because you’re mine, and I’m yours.”
What came out of his mouth was: “That’s… You…”
“You really didn’t know.” Nikolett laughed, then shook her head, a slight line appearing between her brows. “If you aren’t here to interfere—at least any more than you already have—in our plan to catch the Spaniard, or to say something dramatic and emotionally confusing about my search for spouses, then why are you here?”
She snapped the repeated question like an accusation.
“To ask you to dinner!” he snapped back.
Nikolett stood perfectly still. “What?”
“I came to ask you if you wanted to go to dinner with me. I had flowers…” Shit. He forgot the flowers. “I think I left them in the car when I chased Iacob.”
“Dinner.” She blinked.
“Yes, dinner.” The world around them was glossy and wet. He shoved his hair back from his face, hating that the rain formed a transparent curtain between them, obscuring her features just enough he wasn’t sure what she was thinking or feeling.
He could only pray that his words could pull her to the place he was. A place filled with a fragile hope and determination to make the best of this one exquisite life they had.
“What we were doing had to stop. Our relationship up to now is over. Dead. Because we both want, and need, it that way. Now we can try again. Grow something new.” Eric rose, needing to stand for this part.
“If you give me a chance, Nikki, I will love the way you deserve to be loved.”
She said nothing, but he thought she might be crying, her silence terribly loud. It wasn’t really silent, not with the sound of the rain, but the white noise of it swelled until it felt like he was suffocating.
He took a half step, realized he hadn’t actually asked her the question, and cleared his throat. “Nikki, would you go out to dinner with me?”
She stared at him, still silent as rain and maybe tears slid down her cheeks.
Maybe she thought he was using the dinner invitation to manipulate and interfere with her plans. “I know you’re in the middle of something—”Something stupid and dangerous that’s going to cause me to have a heart attack.“—but I’m, uh, available next week?”
Finally, she spoke. “You’re asking me out on a…date?”
“Yes.” He had no idea if he was doing a good job. Danes didn’t really date; plus, he’d known from the time he was inuniversity that he’d have an arranged marriage. He based this mostly on what he saw in TV and movies.
Nikolett’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he thought it was going to work out. That they’d be okay.
“No.”
Eric froze, the start of a smile fading away. “No?”
“No, Eric.” She took a shaky breath. “Because you don’t mean it.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t. And even if you did want to love…” She took an uneven breath. “Even if you did want to date me, you don’t want a future with me.”
