Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover #2) - Stina Lindenblatt Page 0,87
godmother couldn’t do much better.”
Kiera pulls out a burgundy ball gown. The top is made from velvet and has a sweetheart neckline held up with spaghetti straps. The floor-length skirt is layers upon layers of gauze fabric with a slight shimmer to it.
“It’s gorgeous. Try it on.”
“Isn’t it a little too much?”
“For a ball? No, I’d say it’s perfect. You’ll look like a princess.”
She returns it to the rack. “Maybe I don’t want to be a princess.”
“Everyone wants to be a princess, to feel special for just one day. And you more than anyone deserves that. Besides, what does it hurt to try it on?”
She removes it again. “Okay, I’ll do it. Are you trying one on, too?”
“I’ll pass. I’m not the one attending a ball.” I’m not even doing anything for New Year’s Eve, other than watching the countdown on TV and watching a movie.
I won’t even get to kiss anyone at midnight.
So basically, my typical New Year’s Eve celebration.
Kiera disappears into the dressing room. I glance at my phone, checking to see if anyone has texted me, even though I know no one has.
“Merry Christmas,” a deep voice says behind me. “Ho ho ho.” The crisp ringing of a bell cuts through the air.
I turn to find Santa walking toward me. But this isn’t an old man who was made up to look like him. This man is a lot younger…and there’s something oddly familiar about his eyes.
“Merry Christmas, young lady.” He says it loud enough for everyone to hear and rings his bell again. “Do you have a holiday wish you want to tell Santa?”
Instead of giving me a candy cane, he hands me a Christmas tree ornament shaped like a shooting star. The silver threads—woven like a dream catcher—sparkle in the store lights.
Why does it look so familiar?
“If you wish on a shooting star,” I ask Nikolai, “does the wish really come true?” Our families were staying in a large cabin in a forest—like in a fairy tale—the summer after my father left. Nikolai and I had snuck out of the house, and were studying the stars twinkling in the late-night sky. I’d never seen so many before then.
Nikolai enthusiastically nods. “I’m positive it’s true.”
“Have any of your shooting-star wishes come true?”
He thinks about it for a moment. “Not exactly, but maybe I didn’t do it right.”
“There’s a right way to make a wish?”
The memory fades, replaced with a new one. Now I remember why the star is so familiar. It belonged to Nikolai’s family. I bought it for their Christmas tree after the shooting-star conversation.
“Nikolai?” I whisper, my voice too stunned to come out louder than that. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you. Heard there’s a contract on your head. Sorry about that.” He flashes me the angelic smile I remember from when we were kids.
It usually meant he’d been far from angelic.
“Thanks,” I say with a small smile I don’t mean. “How long have you known about it?”
“I also heard you’ve got a bodyguard.”
Still do. Somewhere.
I resist the urge to glance around and track down Adam.
“What are you doing here?” I ask again.
“I wanted to check that you’re okay. The Feds are obviously doing a crappy job of protecting you.”
“And you’re doing a better job?”
He snorts a quiet laugh. “Touché.” The smile vanishes from his face. “The only reason they’re trying to protect you is because they want something from you.”
“And what’s that exactly?”
“What have you told them about our family?”
I finger the ornament. If I hurl it across the room while making a wish, does that count? “That’s not an answer.”
“And neither is that.”
Now, that’s the Nikolai I remember and loved.
“What does it matter what I’ve told them?” I ask. “It’s not like I’m aware of any big secrets they don’t already know.” And for that, I’m grateful.
I’d hate to consider what kinds of skeletons are lurking in my family’s closet.
Nikolai’s face relaxes for a moment, and I’m reminded of the boy I used to know. The boy who used to be my best friend.
“Do you know anything about the murder of my last boyfriend, Mark Greenwood, or about the murder of my father and stepfather?” Maybe Nikolai can give me the answers the FBI and I seek. “Do you know why they were all killed?”
His expression gives nothing away. “You can’t trust anyone, Chloe. Please promise me you’ll—”
“What do you think?” Kiera asks behind me, interrupting whatever Nikolai was about to say.