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I eye him as he gets comfy on my sofa. I may not be operating at full capacity, but my brain isn’t muddled enough to actually let him stay with me. Despite how good he looks sprawled across the floral pattern. His dark suit, his entire dark demeanor, is in such contrast to the light, colorful feel of my living room.
“Um, you can go now,” I blurt.
“Why would I do that?”
“Well, you can’t stay here.”
“You’re clearly not well, little fox. I won’t leave you in such a vulnerable position.”
“I’m not completely inept, and I have a security system.” Which Nico apparently trampled right past last night. “And a gun.” Dang it! Stupid loose lips.
“Good, I hope you know how to use it.”
I don’t. But I’m not admitting that to my stalker. Dante gave it to me before he and Rose left for their pre-wedding honeymoon as a precaution. It sits in my nightstand, but the idea of using it makes my skin crawl.
“I can teach you if you’d like.”
My head whips back and forth so quickly my head spins. Uh, oh, bad idea. Really bad. A wave of nausea unfurls, and my gut clenches. I jump up in an attempt to make a mad dash to the bathroom, but my ankle gives out despite the supportive bandage, and I stumble.
An iron band clamps around my belly, keeping me upright, but also forcing the roiling contents of my stomach up my throat. I keel over and spew the paltry insides of my gut all over the gleaming wood floor.
Since I’d barely eaten today, it’s mostly liquid and the splatter has some range. I glance down, completely mortified, at Nico’s black dress shoes covered in vomit. Oh, kill me now.
“Easy, little fox, I’ve got you.” Nico’s warm breath tickles the shell of my ear as he stands over me, still holding me upright. He holds my hair back, fisting it in one hand while his arm remains tight around my waist.
I want to die. I shoot up a quick prayer to any god willing to listen for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. My stomach heaves one last time before I attempt to straighten and wipe the saliva from my chin.
“You shouldn’t have taken those pain pills on an empty stomach.”
“Now you tell me,” I mumble.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He scoops me into his arms like I weigh nothing, and it occurs to me I’m getting way too comfortable with this move. I don’t even fight him this time.
He carries me toward the spiral staircase, and I point to the second floor. “My bathroom is that way.”
“I know.”
A chill skitters up my spine. Of course, he knows, because he’s a freaking stalker and I’ve willingly let him into my home this time. I am such an idiot. But with my head spinning like this, I’m not sure I’d make it up by myself without breaking another bone.
Nico marches through my townhouse like he’s intimately familiar with each nook and cranny. He opens the double doors to my bedroom with one hand and walks straight to the attached bath.
I should be scared. Any normal person would be. How many times has he been here? Has he watched me sleep? Another tremor rolls up my spine.
“Are you cold?” He dips his eyes to mine, and our noses nearly touch.
“Yup,” I lie. I must show no fear. Isn’t that a thing with wild animals? And Nico Rossi is as wild and unpredictable as they come.
“Then let’s get you out of these clothes and into a warm bath.”
“Out of my clothes?” I squeal as he walks us into the master bathroom.
A teasing grin curls his lips. “It is generally how one bathes, isn’t it?”
“Don’t even think you’re going to paint me while I take a bath, you crazy stalker.”
A deep chuckle rumbles his chest, shaking me along with it. “No, not today, little fox, but soon.” He lowers me onto the edge of the marble tub and spins on the faucet, then he turns to me, his gaze predatory. “Shall I help you out of that blouse?”
“In your dreams.”
