Page 24 of Nikolai
For no reason that he could see, this remarkable woman was…alone.A woman like Parker, alone in this world—he couldn’t believe it.
If he lived to be a thousand years old, he’d never forget her telling him, as if it were nothing, that she was receiving hate mail, yet had no one protecting her.
Man, if a woman of his were threatened, Nick would track the guy threatening her down and make him sorry.Reallysorry.He wanted to do that now, for fuck’s sake.Parker wasn’t his woman, true, but…
Yet.
A voice whispered deep inside him.
The waiter rolled up with a huge liqueur cart, bottles rattling.
Parker smiled at Nick.“It’s usual after a big dinner to have a digestive liqueur.Lots of people takelimoncellobecause it’s well known, but I’d recommend anocino.A liqueur made from walnuts and not as sweet as a limoncello, but very pleasant.”
Nick was tempted, but… He held up his hands.“Driving.But you go ahead and tell me if you like it.”
She nodded at the waiter and pointed to a tall, slender brown bottle with a hand printed label.He poured the dark brown liquid into a small tulip glass, told her something, then looked questioningly at Nick.Nick shook his head, and the waiter rolled his cart away.
She tasted it and sighed.“It’s great.The waiter said the chef’s mother made it.I think it’s one of those recipes that takes days.Sorry you’re not drinking it.”
“Leave a drop or two in the bottom.”He liked the idea of drinking from her glass.
They both looked out over the Bay.There were fewer boats and, on the horizon, an enormous cruise ship that looked like the mother ship, huge, gaudy, brightly lit.
Vesuvius blocked the stars, a shadow in the sky.
The city was alive with light, the sounds of the traffic below, along the Bay, faint.Someone, somewhere, was practicing the violin and a woman’s laughter suddenly erupted on the terrace.
All of it was good, was life itself, and so far removed from the places where Nick had spent the past couple of years.After sundown in those cities, there was little traffic, no women’s laughter.Barely any lights on.Most people retreated behind the walls of their homes after dark.
Parker took a final sip and put the tulip glass down and slid it over to him.“You’ve got to try it.It’s delicious.”There was still a little liqueur in the bottom of the glass.“Walnuts steeped in alcohol and a ton of special spices.”
Nick picked it up and drained it.He blinked.It was tart and intense with a touch of sweetness, very aromatic and perfect for an after-dinner drink.“Wow.”
“Right?One of these evenings, we’ll both take taxis so you can enjoy the wine fully and we’ll have a nocino and maybe—” Parker suddenly stopped on an intaken breath and turned pink.“Sorry?—”
“No.No.Don’t be sorry.”Nick put his hand on her arm.She was embarrassed that she’d assumed she’d be seeing him in the future.She didn’t have to be embarrassed.She was going to be seeing as much of him as she could stand.“Consider my every moment not spent working for the Consulate at your disposal.As many dinners and lunches as you can bear.”
Breakfasts, too, he thought, without saying it.But it was true.Just as soon as she said yes, they were going straight to bed.The sooner the better.His skin itched with the thought.
She’d thought she was presuming, but she wasn’t.There was something here and he wanted—badly—to explore it.Maybe she did, too.
“Okay,” she said softly.“Okay.”
They nodded at each other.She was the first to break eye contact and looked around at the almost-empty terrace.Most of the guests had departed, even in Naples, where dinners usually started late.Nick was watching her, not wanting to take his eyes off her to check his watch.But he had a pretty accurate clock in his head, and he reckoned it was close to 1 am.Evening traffic along the bay had slowed down and the area had become quiet.
Time to leave.
He had no desire to leave.None.
He wanted to stay here forever.With Parker, on a terrace overlooking the sea with the stars shining down.Feeling excited and happy and…calm.Like he’d finally found something he didn’t know he’d been looking for.
Il Terrazzone.The restaurant was one of those Neapolitan institutions George normally only glimpsed when passing in a taxi—the kind with white table linens perfectly ironed, silver gleaming in soft candlelight, and an unspoken rule that only the wealthy and the glamorous dared enter.
The chosen.
Well, he was quickly becoming one of the chosen.He was rising, though making sure nobody noticed.His wardrobe was much better, but he made a point of saying he’d found a good, cheap tailor.Not that anyone noticed, really.At first, he splurged on some really good restaurants—though notIl Terrazzone—but he went alone and it got old.
No matter.Money in the bank soothed him.
