“Yeah, whatever, you hot nerd.”
Nil helps me out of my chair while continuing to criticize Stan. “You’re takingallof it?”
“They weren’t guarding it.” Stan shrugs. “That’s on them.”
He reaches for a bottle on the counter next, uncorking it with a twist, and pours a glass of wine while Nil picks up the stem to pull the poured drink away from Stan.
Nil looks down at it, his brows knitting. “Stan.”
“Relax,” Stan whispers, even though I can hear him. “It’s for you, babe. I need you to back me up tonight, so loosen up a little.”
Nil exhales through his nose, disapproval reappearing, but he keeps the glass in his hand. He also takes a jug of water and another glass. While Nil does so, Stan insists on leading us to the rooftop, where there’s a terrace of “the best view over the city.”
We follow him through a few halls and then up a narrow, spiraling staircase that opens onto the roof. When we reach the top, Stan offers his hand. Of course I take it, admittedly eager to feel the warm strength in his surprisingly gentle hands.
He laces our fingers together before guiding me toward the center of the open space, where thin strands of small bulbs are strung along the low railings, casting a cool glow that breaks through the darkness.
Below us, the estate glows as well in scattered clusters. And beyond the brick walls, the city’s horizon stretches dark and uninterrupted, a wide band of blissful silence and twinkling lights against the night.
Stan turns in place, looking quite pleased with himself. “See?” he says. “Best view. Told ya.”
I step toward the railing, drawn to the expanse beyond. The city at this hour feels distant and still, and above it the sky stretches impossibly wide. It’s a stark contrast to the confinement of the ship or my room. The world has been moving, even while I’ve been turned inward.
Nil comes close, taking a sip of wine while glancing at me. “You comfortable, Em?”
I nod. At Stan’s beckoning, I turn back just in time for him to offer me a forkful of tiramisu. I take the bite, warmth rising quickly to myface when his thumb brushes my lip to remove a stray crumb.
I swallow slowly, aware of Stan watching my reaction with open satisfaction.
“That look on you, Em?” he whispers. “Fucking perfection.”
The warmth in my cheeks deepens. Stan’s hand lingers near my mouth, his thumb resting there for a brief moment before he lets it fall, as though breaking contact requires effort.
Nil takes another sip of wine beside me, longer than the first. The line of his shoulders lowers. He exhales and sets the glass down, then reaches for the water jug, filling a glass for me.
He steps closer to my side, guiding the glass to my lips. “You want more?” he asks, nodding toward the tray.
I do, and I let that show with another small nod as I finish drinking the water.
Stan lifts another forkful of tiramisu and brings it toward me. I lean in and take the bite. His fingers hover near my chin, then caress it lightly.
“Mm,” he murmurs. “Yeah, keep looking at me like that, gorgeous.”
Stan lowers the fork slowly, his gaze staying on mine while I lick my lips to clean any crumbs off myself this time.
“Yeah…” he repeats, rougher this time. “So gorgeous, Em.”
I’m becoming aware of how closely he’s standing, how completely his presence fills the space in front of me, when Nil’s hand settles at the small of my back, a light contact that makes me straighten my back as heat fires up my spine.
Nil leans in, his voice reaching my ear. “You doing alright?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer, feeling a shiver move across my shoulders.
His fingers press more firmly in response. Stan’s eyes trace over us from the other side, attentive and intent.
“Look at you two,” he whispers, eyelids lowering, pupils dilatedwide. “Together like this?Trouble.”
Nil hums, sounding rather thoughtful. But now my breaths feel shallow, my awareness narrowing to the space the three of us share.
