“So…you’re from Philly?” I ask instead, shifting in a way that makes Nico look at my legs. “Did you grow up there?”
Sure enough, his gaze drops, then quickly lifts to my eyes. His throat bobs on a swallow as he nods. “Born and raised,” he says in a rough voice.
“I’ve never been,” I say conversationally. “Would you recommend it?”
“I think everyone should visit,” he answers with a shrug. “It’s a great city. Great restaurants, fun bars, plenty of history. I almost like to think of it as a smaller, more manageable New York City.” When I let out a thoughtful hum, he tilts his head and asks, “So, you’re from North Carolina?”
South Carolina, actually, but I keep my agency profile close enough to the truth that it doesn’t feel like a huge fib.
I nod. “Born and raised,” I parrot with a smile.
“That’s a big move, coming to New York,” Nico comments curiously.
“Just a little,” I tease with a smile.
He hesitates. “Can I ask what brought you to the city?”
“I just needed a change,” I tell him honestly.
It took me a little while to figure out how to navigate the personal questions on the job. When clients don’t want sex, they want conversation, and even though most of that tends to focus on the client, it’s still natural for people to ask about me. There’s a level of security in vague answers that I use to protect myself, but it’s also essential to sprinkle some of the truth in. It makes it easier to weave the spell they’re looking for.
“Was that a culture shock?” Nico asks me.
I blow out a breath. “Definitely. I thought I could prepare myself for it, but there’s no preparing for this city. Especially at nineteen.”
Shoot.I didn’t mean to let that detail slip out.
I know Nico picks up on it because his eyebrows lift. Maybe he can even tell that I hadn’t intended to tell him that, because he doesn’t press it.
I hurry to shift the topic to something I can use to figure out why he called the agency.
“So, when you’re not fighting, what do you like to spend your time doing?” I ask, casually dropping my hand to the side table so I can touch his hand again. “Any fun hobbies?”
I think Nico might be able to read me better than I was expecting because his gaze drops to my hand before looking out at the bar with a thoughtful expression.
“I can’t remember the last time I did something fun,” he muses. “I mean, outside of the occasional dinner with my brothers.”
Interesting. Maybe I’m just some fun he’s looking for?
“So you’re close with your brothers?”
He nods. “I’m close with my whole family. They’re my best friends.”
What does that feel like?
I shake away the errant thought before it can sour my mood. I need the focus onNico.
“That’s sweet,” I say, gently moving my hand to his. “It’s really refreshing to hear that from a man.”
His eyes drop to my hand and stay there. I’m half-wondering if he’s going to pull away, he’s staring so intently. But after a moment, he wraps his thumb tentatively around mine.
When he lifts his head and our gazes meet, there’s a low simmer of fire in his eyes. He’s affected by my touch.
Good.
“So…if dinner with your family is the only thing you do outside of the gym, it sounds like fighting doesn’t leave time for much else in your life.” I brush my thumb over the back of his hand, momentarily distracted by the sight of them. They’recalloused and rough; they look like aman’shands. “That sounds pretty stressful.”
His gazeburns. “It— Yeah, sometimes it’s a little stressful.” Something flashes in his eyes, too quick for me to read. “In all honesty, it’s one of the reasons I called you.”
