Page 63 of The Captive and the First Blood Game
They exited the elevator, Beckham got them through the steel door, and then they were out. It was fucking cold, and she scrambled into her gloves, burying her face into her scarf.
“It’s not far,” he told her, pulling her in close as they crossed a dark, empty parking lot.
They went up a few flights of stairs, down another corridor, and then up in another elevator before Beckham opened the door to the rooftop.
Her smile was magnetic. “I feel like we’ve been here before.”
“I wanted to create new memories with you.”
Reyna braced herself for the chill as she stepped outside and was not disappointed. The temperature was frigid. Snow dusted the rooftop and fell gently from the heavens. The view into the city was stunning with everything coated in a layer of white powder, but it was the rooftop garden that really caught her eye this time. Lights decorated the winter plants, and a fire was crackling in the center of a firepit. Heaters had been added to help with the extreme cold. The bench where they had first been intimate was clear of snow, and it held blankets and a tray of food.
“Is this a date, Mr. Anderson?” she asked coyly.
“And suddenly, I’m no longer Becks.” His eyes were teasing, and she was certain she would never be able to get enough of it.
“I didn’t even think you liked the nickname.”
“I like it when you say it,” he admitted.
“My Becks,” she said, standing on her tiptoes and dragging him into a kiss.
“My Little One,” he said just as fiercely.
“I like that, too.”
He flashed her a rare real smile and then escorted her through the rooftop garden. They took a seat in front of the fire. Beckham wrapped blankets around them to keep her warm and put his arm around her shoulders.
“I figured you didn’t eat,” he said, gesturing to the covered tray.
“How do you know me so well?”
“You lived with me for some time.”
“True. I sometimes forget to eat. But then again…so do you.”
He laughed softly. “Not anymore. I am more careful now. More careful around you.”
Reyna arched an eyebrow at him, but he simply removed the cover from the tray to reveal all her favorite foods from the restaurant they used to go to across from his penthouse.
“Oh my God, this is the best.”
“I’m glad I got the order correct,” he said. Though he honestly sounded a little…nervous. Beckham could never be nervous.
“It’s perfect. Now, while I eat, tell me more about this investigation.”
“Harrington redid background checks. The penthouse was raided after they took you and then again when you escaped him. As if I would be stupid enough to bring you back there if I had gotten you out.” He fumed at the audacity. “I had to get a new permanent.”
“What?” Reyna asked, covering her mouth.
“Yeah. Part of the cover, I’m afraid. I couldn’t look like I was disagreeing with Harrington when it might jeopardize finding you. I hate having to keep up appearances.”
Reyna could see that he thought it was beneath him to follow all of Harrington’s orders. She didn’t blame him. She hated following them, too.
“Do you drink from her?” Reyna couldn’t help asking.
“Would you rather I drink from Penelope?” he asked, his voice low.
“No,” she said slowly. “I hated it the time you did it in the Vault.”
