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Nikki knew better than to join Damen. They’d only end up making love again. And again.
So she waited until he strode from the en suite to his adjoining dressing room, wearing nothing but a towel, slung low around his hips.
She groaned.
Christ, he was just too scorching-hot for words.
Somehow, she found the willpower to not follow him and snatch that towel from him.
With a shake of her head, she mumbled, “Stay the course.”
She tossed off the covers and went to shower and change, herself.
When she emerged, fully clothed and suitcase rolling along behind her, she drew up short just inside the master suite.
And stared at the bed.
Where her laptop sat.
She knew it was hers, immediately. Not Damen’s and not a replacement.
But hers.
She recognized the slight dent in the right corner from when she’d dropped it in Mexico City, upon that first explosion. There were also scrapes on the lid from her other excursions—and she’d kept telling herself she needed a protective, waterproof cover for it, but never found the time to order one.
Leaving her suitcase where she’d been standing, Nikki forced her feet to move. She crossed to the bed and sat on the edge, her gaze still fixated on the computer.
Her fingers grazed the metal top and tears stung her eyes.
She had no idea what sort of condition it was in—just that it was physically still intact. It had not self-destructed upon the extraction of the terrorists’ data.
That, however, did not mean the hard drive remained operable.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She innately knew that Damen didn’t know the fate of her photos, letters and files, either.
She heard him come from his dressing room. In her peripheral vision, she saw him prop a shoulder against the wall and slip his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. Not invading her space or distracting her.
For all the insistency she’d made to get this laptop back in her own hands, now that it was sitting right in front of her… She was too terrified to open the lid. Power it on. Learn its true fate.
Nikki’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment.
She focused on breathing.
But that was basically futile.
This was certainly a do-or-die moment for her. And just like all the other times she was faced with making split-second decisions, she had to go with her gut instincts.
Her eyelids drifted open and she flipped up the lid. She booted the machine.
She held her breath.
The dark screen tormented her.
She heard Damen suck in a sharp slice of air.
He’d been hoping for the best, too. And it probably broke his heart to know hers was shattering.
