Chapter 30

NICOLETTE

We sat on the terrace that overlooked the west pool and settled in one of the plush sofas, he on one end and I on the other.

We had spoken of minor pleasantries during the meal, the mind-blowingly delicious meal, and the earlier tension had gone away completely by dessert. But that likely had to do with the two bottles of wine we drank with supper.

“I’d like to talk about you now.” Mr. Andretti poured me another half glass of champagne.

I thanked him for the wine. “What would you like to know?”

“I want to know about your childhood,” he said. He put his elbow on the back of the sofa and propped his head up with his hand. He looked at me like I was about to tell the most amazing story.

But I had to disappoint him. “My childhood wouldn’t interest you. It was boring, normal. Two loving parents, no siblings, middle-class home, middle-class life.” I shrugged.

Of course I wasn’t going to tell him that my dad had handed me off to an Amazonian witch doctor who’d then magically cured my heart. Which was now arguably the most exciting thing about me.

“Well, how about your hobbies? What are your likes? Your dislikes? Favorites?” he persisted.

I took a breath and puffed it out. “Oh, I don’t know. The most exciting things I do are work related. Expeditions, digs, artifacts. That stuff. I don’t have much free time for hobbies.”

He frowned, and I suddenly hated that my boring life disappointed him.

“Oh, I paint! Well, sometimes. And I sketch. But I have sold some of my art,” I said, trying to make myself sound more interesting.

It worked, and Mr. Andretti perked up and smiled, scooching an inch closer to me.

Emboldened, I continued. “I’m ambidextrous, and I love to eat.” I took a drink. “And I think I like to dance. I just realized it recently. Maybe I’ll take up lessons.” I was babbling and quickly stopped myself.

He was smiling at me like a lovesick child. “Please, continue. Everything is important when it comes to you, Ameena.” His eyes then grew wide at his slip. “I’m sorry. Nicolette. Please continue. It’s so nice to hear about your life here.”

~What the hell does that mean?~ “My life ~here~? Where else would it be?” I asked.

He again realized his slip and sat up. He put his glass on the table and his elbows on his knees and stared at the aquamarine pool in front of us. He was silent for a while, and it unnerved me.

Then he spoke. “Have you ever felt like you knew someone even though you’d never met them before?” He was still looking at the water. “Or that you saw someone you never thought you’d see again?”

My mind searched for the right thing to say. And only the truth would do. “Yes,” I said.

He turned his head to look at me. Then he moved closer, sitting with his side to the back of sofa so he could face me. His bent leg on the sofa was an inch away from mine.

“That’s how I felt when we met. And that’s what I see when I look at you. I see her. My Ameena.”

“But I’m not your Ameena. And you have to stop seeing me that way, Ira. Or I can’t work with you.” I gave him my best soft-but-firm look.

“Yes, I know. I know that, Nicolette”—he scooched closer, our legs now touching—“I just…I don’t want to lose you again.” His eyes were begging me for something. He was desperate. And afraid. But I didn’t know why.

I was shocked and confused by this sudden showing of emotion. I had the inexplicable urge to comfort him, so I placed my hand on top of his.

He looked down at my hand and placed his other one on it. He looked up and smiled weakly. But he started rubbing my hand, and he held his silent gaze for too long.

I pulled my hand away and cleared my throat. “It’s getting late. I think I’ll go to bed now.” I stood up.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. I will too.” He nodded and stood. “Mind if I walk you to your room?”

I smiled. “You are my neighbor. How about I walk you to your room?”

He chuckled and the tension once again cleared.

We waited for the elevator, and he was looking at the ground. The resort was quiet and the halls were empty.

“I’m sorry about all that, Nicolette,” he said. “I get sentimental sometimes. And you look so much like her.”

“It’s OK, really. I get it. Let’s just forget about it, alright?” I watched the numbers fall on the approaching elevator.

When he didn’t answer me, I looked over at him. His eyes were on me, and they were wild. The desperation was back. My heart instantly reacted.

“I will never forget about you, Ameena,” he said.

He grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me roughly, frantically. Like this was his only chance. Surprise opened my mouth, and his tongue took advantage. His lips were warm and wet, and his stubble scratched my chin and lips.

After the shock wore off, I tried to push him away, but his hold on my face was firm. He pushed me against the outer doors of the elevator and brought his hands to my waist, pulling me closer against his growing manhood.

He brought his attack down to my neck, and I could finally catch a breath. He was still frantic, panting. It was the same as when Darien did this. As if Ira were starving and my body was the only food that could nourish him.

He brought his hands up from my waist, and just as he neared my breasts, the elevator doors opened and I was able to get away.

I stumbled backward into the elevator and raised my hand to him. “Mr. Andretti!”

He looked around, confused as to why I was no longer in his arms. He needed a few seconds to come back to his senses, and when he did, when his posture deflated and his eyes were cast downward, I continued.

“I’m sorry you lost someone you loved, and I’m sorry I look like her. But you will behave professionally around me, do you understand? Try that again and I’ll bring you up on sexual assault charges. Got it?” I hoped my disgust was conveyed in my tone.

He stepped back from the elevator and nodded his head. “You’re right. I’m so sorry, Nicolette.”

“Ms. Holland,” I said, taking back my allowance of formality.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Holland,” he said weakly.

My hand shook as I pressed the button for the top floor. “You can take the next one,” I said.

When the doors closed, I gripped the handrail along the wall and tried not to fall. ~What the hell was that?~

I brought my head down to take a few breaths, and my eyes were drawn to the gleaming ring around my thumb.

~What’s the point of you, anyway? You didn’t keep me safe from him! ~I decided to take it off once back in my room.

The doors pinged open and I walked to my room. When I entered it, I knew my troubles were not over.

The smell in the air was a mix of strong whiskey and sexy man. One sexy man in particular.

I went to the living area of the suite and saw Darien sitting on the sofa, elbows on his knees and fingers interlaced. He slowly looked up at me.

His face spoke of the anger likely coursing through his body, and his eyes spoke to his alcohol intake.

He was drunk.

My guess was confirmed when he took a step toward me, wobbling slightly.

“Ameena,” he said, his words heavily slurred.

My mouth dropped and goosebumps broke out over my skin. How did he know that name?

Then, realization crashed over me that Ameena was the girl I’d been jealous of. She was the woman Darien and Ira had fought over.

And apparently, she had looked just like me.