Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Niko

"I have had enough of this, Jane!" I bark into the phone before drawing in a deep breath to attempt calming my temper. "I am sorry. I know it is not your fault. I am breaking my head." I run a frustrated hand through my hair and step farther from the wedding festivities so I can hear Jane more clearly.

"I'm as mad as you are, Niko," she responds. "And don't apologize. I've got Teflon skin. If I had a dime for every time I've been yelled at, I'd be retired in Aruba with my own personal team of pool boys."

My only response is a grunt. I am beyond pissed at this point, having just hung up with Peyton before phoning my lawyer. Peyton actually hid Ayana from me when I came to pick her up for the airport yesterday.

It turns out my ex did have a reason for her less combative behavior last month. A man. And one richer than me, from what I can gather. I know why she did not tell me, too; she knows I hate Ayana being left alone with strangers, especially strange men. Peyton's last boyfriend went through an extensive background check as well as one week on a private investigator's timesheet. Not that I ever told Peyton that, since the guy turned out to be tolerable.

But guess who got dumped and decided to return to despising me?

My two weeks spent with Ayana was the happiest I have been in longer than I can remember. We hit the beach, took a day trip to that Harry Potter place, flew kites in the park, took long walks with Paul (fine, I gave in), and watched enough baking shows to give me diabetes just from osmosis. We were all set to redecorate her room at my house when Peyton showed up at my front door two days early and announced Ayana's visit was over. I have not seen my daughter since.

"Look, she doesn't have a leg to stand on," Jane continues. "My best guess is that her lawyer will argue two things: the same old song and dance about you traveling too much during the season, and some load of BS that you're not equipped to care for her since you have less experience."

"I would have more experience if I could be allowed to see my daughter!" I shout before remembering where I am and glancing toward the party where music plays as guests chat and laugh. It is like another world. "I am sorry. Again."

"I know. The judge isn't stupid, Niko. You'll see. But we need to nail down the childcare details for the season before we set foot in that courtroom. It's the first thing he'll ask for."

I sigh and sweep palm fibers from my shirt. I must have brushed against some branches in all my pacing. "Right. I will."

"Niko." Her tone is scolding, and I know she is right.

But finding a good nanny to begin working at an undefined point in the future is harder than it sounds. I have interviewed dozens over the past year, and only two met my standards. Of course, they were both in high demand and could not wait around for Peyton to come to her senses or for the courts to force her hand.

"I understand the importance of this, Jane. It will happen. I just need you to make sure Peyton is done with her..." I search for the word, finally finding it. "...manipulations."

"I'm on it. Try to enjoy your vacation, and we'll talk later. You've got two weeks to find that nanny, Niko. Two weeks."

Two weeks to find someone I trust with my daughter's life and wellbeing. That is a tall order, to say the least. But I must do it.

"We will talk soon. Goodnight, Jane."

I pull the phone from my ear and drop my hand to my side as exhaustion sets in. I stare ahead, my eyes unfocused. I should take up meditation to deal with my stress or I will be dead before the year is out. But meditation is bullshit. Exercise is more practical.

Laughter breaks through my thoughts, and I turn toward the gathered party to see Chloe in that sexy-as-fuck dress, laughing at something Roadie said. Again. She pats his bicep, and I feel it like a punch to my solar plexus.

What is wrong with me? First, I lose my mind and run a finger across her skin at the ceremony, and now I am feeling a physical blow from her flirting with Bobby Rhodes, of all people. He is a child. She could not possibly take him seriously. She would never let him caress her silky skin or brush his lips against her impossibly pouty ones. Would she?

Fuck! It is none of my business. I sent her away tonight, despite my cock telling me to carry her to my hotel room and tie her to my bed until her voice went hoarse from screaming out her pleasure–and my name. My fingers flex at my sides at the mere thought of fisting her hair and fucking her pretty mouth before bending her over to fuck her sweet pussy.

And now my cock is too hard to return to the party without drawing attention. Linen pants were a poor choice.

My phone vibrates and I glance at the screen to see a text from Jane.

Jane: Here's the number for that nanny service my client recommended.

That is enough to kill my boner.

A flash of red catches my eye in my peripheral vision, and I glance over again to see Chloe on the dance floor now as the band switches to an upbeat song I do not recognize. However, it must be a favorite of Chloe's because she begins dancing in perfect rhythm to the tune. Her movements are fluid, mesmerizing, as she moves her body with the beat. When she drops almost to a squat and rolls her hips on the rise, I have had enough. I tear my eyes from her and stalk to the bar.

"Vodka. Double. Neat."

"Sorry, sir. No vodka. Can I offer you a Rum Runner?" the young bartender asks with a polite smile. My scowl is reflexive. "No vodka?" What is Roman thinking? When the bartender shakes her head again, I wave a dismissive hand. "Fine." She hands over the vile cocktail and I shove a ten in her tip jar to make up for my rudeness.

Sick of myself, I join a small gathering of other guests, including a couple of my teammates. I purposely position myself with my back to the dance floor. Benny and Kaitlyn attempt to draw me into the conversation, but I am shitty company tonight. I am relieved when Forns and Roadie take over, yet I hardly hear a word they say. Every one of my senses is on alert for any sign of Chloe, despite my most earnest wishes. The one benefit is that I am so distracted, I hardly taste the cocktail as I drain my glass.

Roman approaches the group saying something about a flower toss. I pay no attention until Chloe's name comes up. "There's only a couple women out there and Chloe is uncomfortable."

He is speaking to Kaitlyn, who appears right at home where she is–her pregnant belly being groped by Benny like a rabid dog protecting a stolen shoe.

The scoffing sound is out of my mouth before I can stop it, drawing Kaitlyn's attention, along with a glare I know I deserve. I could not help it, though. Of any woman here at the wedding–or in the Bahamas as a whole–there is no one more comfortable in her own skin than Chloe Cooper. She needs Kaitlyn at her side for a flower toss like I need Roadie to give me lessons on how to get a woman off.

I escape further rebuke when Kaitlyn follows Roman to the dance floor. I take it as a sign and head for the bar again.

Two drinks later–this time a nice whiskey the bartender failed to previously mention–and my head is light and my outlook improved. So much so that I manage to neither throw Chloe over my shoulder and abscond with her to my room or shoo her away like a misbehaving dog when she approaches this time.

"Well, that was romantic," she says with a sigh.

I assume she is speaking of Benny proposing to Kaitlyn on the dance floor just now. The man does love to show off his woman. Ever since the pregnancy was announced, he has been strutting around like a peacock. It is as if he is unaware that any fifteen-year-old boy in the world could accomplish the same deed in less time than it takes him to tie his skates.

"I suppose. If you believe in such things."

I feel Chloe's gaze swing to me, despite my eyes being trained on a flowering tree in the distance. "Nice attitude, Sunshine." She laughs, but it's slightly caustic.

" Blin ." I rub my bearded chin. "I am sorry, Chloe." I am an asshole.

"Apology accepted. Now, you want to tell me about the bug that obviously crawled up your ass this afternoon?"

I glare down at her, not failing to notice the new amusement in her eyes. Fuck, she is delightful. I wish I were the kind of man to appreciate such things. Or deserve them.

The least I can do after my rudeness is offer some explanation. "The bug's name is Peyton. My ex-wife. A particularly nasty species that enjoys keeping my daughter from me–and from a Bahamian vacation."

"Ouch." Her brow furrows, compassion shining from her wide blue eyes.

"Most certainly."

She puts a hand on my arm, and it is as if she has licked me with fire. "I'm sorry, Nikolai. That must be painful."

I watch her for a few seconds, my head swimming with whiskey and my heart pounding more loudly in my chest than it should be. "You are very kind, Chloe Cooper. Much too kind. You should go back and enjoy the party." I cock my head to the dance floor where she moved so seductively and freely earlier. "I am not good company tonight. Or any night, really," I tack on. She deserves to know she is dodging a bullet by staying away from me.

Chloe shrugs and wrinkles her nose. "See, I'm not really good at that."

"At what?"

"Leaving a sad guy wallowing in his whiskey? Believing lies? Doing what I'm told?" Her lips quirk. "You pick."

I shake my head and sigh, feeling my own lips curve for the first time since I boarded the plane without Ayana last night.