not trusting myself to even walk her to her door. Her promise of “Dinner, tomorrow night,” echoes in my ears as I head home.
Alone.
Chapter 13
Emma
Stepping outside, I see that Nathan didn’t use a driver for tonight. Instead, his Jaguar is parked by the curb and he’s leaning against the front fender, watching me with total desire as I approach. It’s like a car commercial if you skip the backdrop my neighborhood offers. My block’s not ghetto by any stretch, but it’s also not Nathan’s kind of fancy.
The sleek black car suits him, aggressive but refined, befitting the manufacturer’s name. He holds the door open for me and my breath catches as he sweeps around the front, highlighted by the headlights like a freaking model.
How did I end up here? And with him?
The rhetorical question resonates in my mind, reminding me that though I’m powerfully drawn to Nathan, there’s so much I don’t know. And even more that he doesn’t know.
The ride is quiet at first, the radio playing RnB softly, but both of us are lost in our thoughts. I’m nervous about tonight. Not because of Nathan but because of Nikolai.
Like Claire said, Nikolai is the impulsive one, a loose cannon who might decide that whatever I did or didn’t hear at the party is reason enough to kill me, regardless of Nathan’s vouching for me.
Why did I agree to pose as a hostess for a party attended by Russian mob bosses again? Claire’s pleading face floats through my mind to remind me. Even with the potential for danger, I’d do anything for her. Well, almost anything, since she also begged me to skip tonight. But I just couldn’t.
Nathan reaches over, taking my hand, and his warmth helps relax me the smallest amount. “You okay? What’s going on in that brain of yours?” he asks.
I shake my head, deciding that truth’s vital right now. “Not exactly okay. I’m scared. I don’t do things like this. Dinner with a mobster? Lying like we have some relationship beyond what began at the party? Acting as if my life depends on it because it actually does?”
My voice has a hint of hysteria, my nerves fraying at the edges, and I take a couple of deep breaths, trying to regain control. It’s not working and my chest hitches. Christ, I don’t need to cry right now.
“Hey, hey . . .” Nathan interrupts, his thumb tracing calming circles on my hand. “We’re going to be fine. You’re going to be okay.”
His voice is steady, like he actually believes what he’s saying wholeheartedly. It helps, giving me an anchor to latch onto, even if that anchor’s a phantom itself. I look at him, willing his belief to come true, praying that he’s right.
He smiles softly. “Besides, I think we both know that there is more here than just some casual meet-and-greet in passing like everyone else at the party. I like you, Emma. And I’m pretty fucking sure you like me too. So getting Nikolai to believe that shouldn’t be difficult.”
His admission is bold and brazen, reassuring my mind and heating my body. I look down at our intertwined hands, his tan fingers linked through my pale ones. Swallowing my nerves, I look up.
“I do like you, of course. I’m just nervous,” I admit. “And kind of allergic to bullets.”
His lips quirk, and even with the seriousness of the evening’s plans, I can sense that he’s holding back a laugh, which soothes my jitteriness even more. “Well, for tonight, just follow my lead. It’s likely what Nikolai will expect after our little show before, and more importantly, I’ve got you.”
It’s a promise, a vow to get me through tonight safely. I want to return the gift. “I’ve got you too. Whatever you need me to do so that you can work your deal with Nikolai. Being a charming hostess is certainly something I can handle.”
I give him a wink, and with his charming smile, the knot in my belly clenches for an altogether different reason. Maybe we can get through this . . . together.
At the restaurant, the maître d’ leads Nathan and me to a private table in the corner. Nikolai is already sitting there, but surprisingly, so is Maritziana. They look rather cozy, her blonde hair hanging forward, creating a curtain to hide their mouths, but judging by the crinkles at Nikolai’s eyes, he’s smiling.
What the hell? I mouth at Nathan, who shrugs.
He offers his hand, a smile on his lips but ice in