Markos shook his head and leaned deeper into the rich saddle-leather cushions. “I’m good. You, however, look like you could use something stronger than whiskey.”
Nikos didn’t respond. Instead, he crossed to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the glittering Manhattan skyline. The city sprawled below them in a sea of fractured light and movement. Normally, this view gave him a sense of control. Of dominion. But tonight it felt too far away. Like a world he no longer knew how to walk through.
He sipped the whiskey, letting it burn a slow, deliberate path down his throat.
“So,” Markos said at last, his voice slicing through the silence, “you going to tell me what the hell’s going on, or should I break out twenty questions?”
Nikos let out a rough exhale and angled his face toward the glass. His reflection stared back at him, distorted by the city lights. “I know thatfeeling,” he said quietly, the words edged with bitterness before he could stop them.
There was a beat of silence.
When Nikos glanced over, Markos’s jaw had gone taut, the shadows in his eyes suddenly darker. They both knew what he was referring to—that night eight years ago. The one neither of them talked about.
Regret hit him instantly.
“I’m sorry,” Nikos muttered, turning and walking to the armchair opposite the couch. He dropped into it with a heavy sigh, his whiskey glass cradled between his palms. “That was uncalled for.”
Markos gave a curt nod but said nothing. He didn’t need to. The wound was old, but it hadn’t scarred over.
Nikos stared into his glass, the amber liquid swirling like the chaos in his mind. “Something happened tonight. Something… strange.”
Markos leaned forward slightly. His tone softened. “Tell me.”
Nikos met his brother’s gaze. “I met someone.”
Markos blinked in surprise. “Met someone—as in…?”
Nikos laughed, but it was dry, humorless. “As in, she straight-up short-circuited my entire nervous system. Her name is Kiki Reese.”
Markos frowned, repeating the name slowly. “Kiki… That’s unusual.”
“She’s… unusual,” Nikos admitted, rolling the glass between his palms. “You remember the traffic footage from Rose’s abduction?”
Markos nodded, interest sharpening his expression.
“It’s why I agreed to that damn blind date. I had to barter for it with a guy who works in traffic control, Harvey. I promised him two tickets to the VIP lounge at the club and a blind date with his sister, who turned out to actually be his neighbor. I thought it would be nothing. A drink, a little forced conversation. Then I met her. Well, first she stood me up, and thenI met her.”
Markos raised an eyebrow and glanced at his watch. “What happened? It’s not even seven o’clock.”
“I kissed her, that’s what happened. Hell if I know why,” Nikos muttered, shaking his head. “We haven’t even gone out yet. She slammed her damn door in my face! Before I kissed her, I mean.”
“Ouch,” Markos said with a smirk. “How did you kiss her if she shut the door in your face?”
Nikos groaned, leaned back in the chair, and stared up at the ceiling. “Harvey talked her into opening the door.”
He was quiet a moment before he admitted, “I know basically nothing about her, even after asking Andri to do a background search on her. Harvey and Jim warned me not to be afraid of her. I thought that was a joke, but hell, we’ve had our fair share of stalkers. I wanted to be prepared.”
“I see nothing unreasonable about that—except maybe the kiss before you’ve even wined and dined her, but hell, it happens. I haven’t met a woman yet who didn’t have you on their kiss wish list,” Markos replied.
Nikos snorted. “Something tells me a kiss from me wasn’t even on her blacklist. She… irked me, and then she didn’t, because seeing her… it was like getting struck by lightning. I’ve felt nothing like it. She was…” His voice faded and he shook his head, looking back at Markos with a bemused expression. “The next thing I knew, I kissed her.”
“What did she do?”
Nikos felt a flush of heat rise to his cheeks. He shot his brother a sheepish grin.
“I didn’t give her the chance to do anything. I hauled ass out of her apartment before she could clobber me, but not before her cat did,” he explained with a rueful smile, fingering the three millimeter tear in the front of his black silk shirt.
Markos laughed, a surprisingly deep, full-belly laugh. “Damn, but I wish I could have seen that. The suave playboy Nikos Aeto running scared! The guys would never believe that.”
