Then Gus took an unsteady breath and pushed away, returning to the couch. He picked up his glass and took a long drink, head tipping back enough to draw her eye to the line of his throat. It was not the action of a man who didn’t like what he saw, but one working to control his desire.
Gus set his glass down and looked at her, gaze slowly tracking from her face over her body and back up. Nikolett raised her chin, not defiant but self-assured. She was not so arrogant as to assume every person she met found her attractive—her features were too sharp, her attitude abrasive, and her ass too small for current fashion. She was attractive enough by most standards.
And she knew Gus was attracted to her. She’d seen the appreciation in his eyes when they first met, and the way he’d reacted to the small visual intimacy confirmed it.
She was braced, waiting for him to make the first move, and if he didn’t, she would. The disquiet that still plagued her, the sense of wrongness, was still there, but she boxed it up and shoved it into a back corner of her mind.
“Food.”
Nikolett blinked. “Food?” That was not the direction she’d anticipated this going.
“We need to eat dinner.”
She blinked again. “Of course.” Nikolett rose. “The plan was to order room service, for security purposes. The menu?—”
Gus was on his feet. “It’s not that I’m hungry.” One long stride brought him up beside her. He took her hand, big warm fingers wrapping around hers.
Nikolett froze, looking back and up (and up) at Gus.
“I mean, I am hungry, but…I’ve been fantasizing…” His gaze slid down her once more, a devilish quirk to his lips. “…about feeding you.”
Her face must have shown her surprise because the quirk became a full grin.
“Ever since that day in the café when you were clearly famished and wouldn’t let me buy you food or even eat half my cookie, I’ve been imagining feeding you.”
Nikolett’s cheeks heated, and she hoped her foundation at least muted the blush.
“I forgot about that.”
“About the cookie?” Gus reached past her to the embossed room service menu she’d been reaching for.
“I didn’t forget about the cookie. I saved you in my phone as ‘Cookie Guy.’”
“Just ‘Cookie Guy’? Not ‘Sexy Cookie Guy’, or ‘Braw Cookie Guy’?”
Together, they returned to the seating area. This time, Nikolett sat on the couch, Gus beside her. When he sat, the cushion dipped and she tipped against him.
Before she could move out of the way, Gus stretched his arm along the back of the couch. Not touching her, not yet, but making space for her to scoot closer to him, her arm and shoulder almost touching his side. Close enough for her to feel the heat of his body and to be hyper-aware of their size difference.
He flipped the menu open, holding it so they could both read it. “Indulge me, lass, and let me feed you.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
They ate and talked and ate some more.
Gus was intelligent, composed, and easy to talk to. The more they spoke, the more surprised she was that he didn’t have a job doing systems security for a government or a large private company. His current position developing the user-side interface of software seemed to massively underutilize his talents.
Then again, it paid very well. His salary had been in the report Zoran sent. Maybe he was in it for the money, and if recruited could be convinced to use his talents toward a greater good, given the Masters’ Admiralty could serve as a financial safety.
Was Gus qualified to be a member? Yes. And based on what Victoire said, Nikolett was comfortable with the idea of offering him membership knowing there was an ulterior motive.
However, she wasn’t sure she was ready for that yet. She also wasn’t sure it was her place to recruit him, since he didn’t spend a significant amount of time in her territory. Arguably, England or Castille should be the ones to recruit him, given when they talked about their favorite places, he talked most about locations in Scotland and the northeast of Spain.
That was a worry for later. For now, she’d completed one objective: assessing him for membership.
Which meant she could focus on the other objectives.
The meal arrived course by course across a span of several hours. Someone—she’d guess Maxim—had arranged for them to order not off the room service menu but from the Michelin-star restaurant, each cart wheeled in either by Maxim or Iacob.
