His brow furrowed. He shook his head, as if he were trying to clear cobwebs. “I—what? I—my club.”
She offered a broken smile. “Thank you. For today. Goodnight.”
“Kiki—”
“Goodnight, Nikos.”
Something in her tone stopped him. For a long, suspended moment, he stared at her like he was trying to memorize her face.
Then he nodded. Once. Stiffly.
“I’ll call you.”
She didn’t answer.
He walked to the door. Paused. Looked back. Confusion clouded his eyes.
She kept her eyes on the floor. When the door finally clicked shut, she released a shuddering breath.
Tears blinded her as she stood frozen in the silence.
Ms. Peabody meowed softly. Only then did she realize tears were sliding down her cheeks.
She sniffed and wiped them away with the back of her sleeve.
“Come on. I’ll feed you—then I have to go out again,” she whispered to the cat.
She turned to the window, staring out into the night.
She had taken his memory. But she would protect him.
In more ways than one.
Eight
The low thrum of bass vibrated through the darkened velvet walls ofThe Rocks, its bass thumping like a heartbeat beneath the strobe lights. Private booths lined the edges of the VIP lounge, cloaked in shadows and exclusivity. Crystal fixtures cast flickering reflections over glass tables, and the smell of aged whiskey and designer perfume lingered in the air.
Nikos stepped inside, his eyes adjusting to the subdued glow of the space. The Contessa sisters, Sherry and Sabrina, were curled up on either side of his brother like glossy bookends. Their long legs crossed, high heels dangling, lips redder than sin.
Both lit up when they saw him.
“Nikos!” Sabrina purred, sliding to her feet with a practiced sway of her hips. “We were just talking about you.”
“Of course you were,” he said, already weary. “Give us a moment, ladies.”
“But we were just getting started,” Sherry added, her lower lip jutting out in a pout that might have worked on lesser men.
Nikos lifted an eyebrow, sharp and unyielding.
The twins huffed in synchronized resignation, grabbed their handbags, and flounced off like offended swans. “Must be something in the air,” Sabrina muttered as they passed. “Looks like the Aeto brothers are both in a mood.”
Markos chuckled dryly and leaned back against the leather booth, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Thanks for driving away the piranhas. I was starting to feel like a snack.”
Nikos didn’t answer. He lifted a hand, signaling to the server for a double bourbon, then motioned to his bodyguards at the entrance. They nodded and repositioned: one outside the velvet rope, the other flanking the booth.
The crowd blurred behind a wash of smoke and dim lights, a living sea that Nikos no longer saw.
He sat heavily, tension still riding his shoulders.
