“I’ll open it for you,” he said.
Nikos nodded once. “Thank you.”
The door clicked open, and Nikos stepped into the apartment. He didn’t move at first. He just stood there in the darkened room, the air thick with a faint trace of cinnamon and something floral—her.
Then the memories hit.
The kiss. Her legs locked around his waist. Her breath against his throat. The feel of her body arching into his.
The seizure.
The desperate look in her eyes when she said he was in danger.
And her voice—silent but so damn clear in his mind—telling him to go to the club.
He swayed, gripping the doorframe.
She hadn’t spoken. But he’d heard it. Felt it. Like it had been woven into his very thoughts.
What the hell was happening?
Staggering to the couch, he dropped hard, running both hands through his hair. The apartment was dim and cozy. A blanket layfolded over the back of the couch, a half-empty mug sat on the side table, and?—
A familiar figure landed on the couch next to him.
Ms. Peabody.
The calico blinked up at him—judgmental, steady—and nudged under his arm. The breath he exhaled was unsteady and hot. He clung to the cat as the rush of memories flooded his brain.
He had kissed Kiki.
She had kissed him back.
They would have?—
He started when his phone buzzed.
The ringtone was Markos’s. A driving beat. Sharp. Urgent.
He yanked it out and answered.
“Where the hell are you?” his brother’s voice barked over the pulsing music in the background.
Nikos blinked. “I’m at Kiki’s.”
There was a pause, then: “She’s here.”
The words landed like a punch to the chest. “What?”
“Kiki’s here—at the club,” Markos said. “With me. Nikos, listen—something’s going on. Something serious. We’re coming to you now.”
Nikos stood, Ms. Peabody leaping from his lap with a disgruntled meow. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Markos’s voice dropped lower, tense. “Just go across the hall. Stay with Harvey and Jim until we get there. You’re in danger.”
The call ended.
Nikos stared at the screen, his heartbeat slamming in his chest.
