Chapter 23

Be chill, Nicki admonished herself as she and Stefan moved easily back through the crowd. But how had she so totally misread Stefan's response to her? How had he slid from interested to infuriated?

She went over her actions in her mind. Yes, perhaps it was impetuous for her to suggest that she could simply ask Omir to show them the ruins and assume he'd pander to her… but it'd worked. They had a tour scheduled for the next morning, and all because she'd been willing to lean over and show a little cleavage. Granted, she'd also gotten roped into surfing at the expo tomorrow afternoon, but that was a price she was willing to pay. And besides, she hadn't gotten in any serious exercise since they'd left on this jaunt. The sex, though remarkable, didn't count.

Her cheeks flamed thinking about the previous night in Stefan's stateroom. He'd so completely exceeded her expectations that she"d now set a completely unfair and unrealistic bar...a bar none of the ordinary men back in her ordinary world would be able to clear. Sleeping with Stefan had been the equivalent of standing too close to the sun, and her retinas were permanently singed.

She giggled, then stifled herself at Stefan's black look. They were moving out of the main party area into an antechamber where a few small groups chatted while more of the servers weaved in and out with drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Private conversation was completely possible here, but Stefan angled off into another hallway, past the kitchen and another sitting room—this one dark.

He stopped and moved back, glancing up the hallway. Then he pushed her into the room.

"What are you doin—" Nicki's hiss was cut off mid-sentence as Stefan pressed her up against the wall, his hand over her mouth.

"Shh," he said and her eyes went wide, only in part because of the utter gloom in the room, its shades drawn against the fading sky outside. "Can you be quiet?"

She blinked, nodding. Of all the secret agent things she'd been expecting to see from Stefan, this wasn't it. But it felt exactly like something out of a movie, and when he pulled his hand away from her mouth it was all she could do not to burst with the questions piling up in her mind.

"Good," he said tightly.

Then he kissed her.

It wasn't an ordinary kiss, either. Stefan put both hands on either side of Nicki's face and tilted her up to him, as if he was a starving man offered his first meal in days. The moment their lips touched he reached around her body and hauled her close, cradling her backside with his hand as he lifted her higher against the wall.

Nicki could barely draw in a second breath when he kissed her again, hungrily, deeply, his mouth leaving hers to ravage across her face, her ear, and down into the hollow of her neck.

The short length and flirty swing of the dress were uniquely suited for backroom trysts, and for a moment Nicki thought about protesting—but only for a moment. Instead, she flexed and lifted her legs, locking her ankles around Stefan's back and pulling herself tighter against him. He growled against her neck then moved to her mouth again.

"Sunshine," he practically moaned, and a nervous thrill zipped through her. She didn't know what to say, what to do. She didn't want to break the spell that Stefan was weaving around her, around them both—but her heart was already beginning to race.

At that moment, he dragged himself away from her mouth. She smiled up at his dazed face, her hands gripping his shoulders. "So…it was a good thing that I talked to Omir? Because this feels a whole lot like a reward."

Stefan barked with laughter and swung her around, the movement causing her to unlock her legs. She slid down until the heels of her strappy sandals hit the floor, but Stefan held her close until she steadied herself.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "That was unnecessary of me."

"Well, I'm not sure about the necessary thing, but I didn't really need it to be necessary. It was all good." Nicki spoke the words slowly and carefully, as if Stefan was a colt about to shy away. The impetuous move of feeling her up in a back room seemed totally unlike him, but he was the one leaning back from her, studying her as if she were a different species.

"You do the most incredible things to me," he said, shaking his head. "I don't know if you're doing it on purpose, or if you were simply brought to me by the gods to teach me a lesson."

Nicki lifted a brow. "Well, that depends. Am I a path not taken or a horrible mistake so far?" she grinned, softening her words. "Or both?"

"Definitely not a horrible mistake," Stefan murmured, drawing her close again. "And as to paths not taken, the night is young, and we have many paths before us."

He dipped his head and kissed her again, but lightly this time, gently, as if she were made of fine bone china. Rather than feeling left out in the cold with the softness of his touch, Nicki's heart turned inside out, thumping out of time despite her silent pleas for it to relax. She forced herself to remain still for as long as she could, but when Stefan shifted, she slithered out of his embrace, putting a few feet between them as she made a business out of smoothing her dress.

"Do I look okay?" she asked as he watched her, for once completely fine with the blush that stained her cheeks. Let him think she was flustered—she was. As long as he didn't think she was going to faint, she was safe.

"You do. But I took you rather precipitously from the room. Getting back might be a trick."

She shook her head. "You go first. No one notices me the way they notice you, and if you're in the room for a few minutes, me slipping back in won't cause a stir. If the reverse happens, they'll start thinking about it," she said. "It's never good when people start thinking."

He scowled. "I don't want to leave you alone in this room."

"Okay, don't—we'll go back partway, then split up."

A strange expression flickered over his face, but he nodded. He took her hand and led her back to the door, then smoothly moved out with her arm curled over his, as if they'd just returned from an evening stroll. There was no one in the corridor, but his steps were so sedate and measured, they served to slow down Nicki's heart rate by the time they reached the first sparsely populated sitting room. He glanced down at her and she shrugged.

"You know, as long as I'm not wrecked, I don't think anyone will notice if we walk in together."

"You don't look wrecked," he said, his gaze roaming over her face, her hair. "Clearly, I'm losing my touch."

"That's the benefit of not wearing much makeup," Nicki said with a wink. "I always look like me. Even if I've been up to no good."

He laughed, which lightened her mood further as they headed back to the party. She was right again, too: no one noticed them slip back in, precisely because it seemed like Stefan was moving in slow motion, as if by his own hand he could slow down the turning hands of time and preserve this moment.

They parted ways shortly after entering the room—him to mingle with the Turkish officials, her to meet and re-meet the remarkable number of the windsurfing community that knew or remembered her from past years.

It always surprised her, the sense of community that these athletes had. They were ferocious competitors, but for the most part, they were the glue that made everything work in between the competitions. Josef had clearly made the rounds before her, because she had no fewer than three job offers before she'd returned to the food table.

With another glass of champagne to steady her fingers, she gazed out over the sparkling town of Ala?ati and into the cold gray building at the top of the southern ridgeline. She wondered about the inhabitants of that building, if the stories were to be believed. Was there a lost prince out there under all that gray? And how would life change if they found him—either dead or alive?