“We won’t judge,” Andrew assures her as I cross the snow-dusted balcony to the cedar bench where the rest of them discarded their slippers and robes. “Nothing wrong with a little too much Christmas cheer.”
Sabrina snorts. “Until it ends with your mother-in-law doing a striptease to Bach’s ‘Christmas Oratorio.’”
Andrew’s brows shoot up. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m serious. Ask Zan,” Sabrina says, nodding toward me as I slide into the water as far from Nick as possible. I wince, anticipating what’s coming next. “Neither Zan nor our dear mother can handle their liquor. More than one glass of anything, and they’re three sheets to the wind.”
“Aw, I bet that’s adorable,” Nick rumbles from beside me.
I flinch, turning to find him two feet closer than before, though I can’t remember seeing him move. The sugar rush from the birthday cake must be going to my head.
No one sneaks up on me, especially not when I’m on guard.
And I’ve been on guard all night, determined not to let anyone catch a glimpse into my innermost thoughts. I wouldn’t worry in other company—I have an excellent poker face—but my sisters are a different story.
Sabrina and Elizabeth are identical twins. I’m the triplet with rogue DNA, but my sisters can read my mind almost as well as they read each other. They know when I’m secretly sad or mad or crushing on some idiot we met at a bar after I stupidly let my sisters talk me into a second rum and Coke.
I remind Sabrina of that now as I scoot away from Nick. “That’s why I don’t have more than one drink unless someone with a sick sense of humor talks me into it.” I shoot Sabrina a pointed look.
She laughs. “I know, but you’re so cute when you’re drunk. I can’t help it. I have no regrets.” She glances toward Nick as she adds, “Talk about a gooey center. She’s such a sweetheart when she’s tipsy.”
“Stop,” I warn Sabrina.
She ignores me, adding, “She tells me she loves me more than life and gives the best hugs and generally makes me feel so wonderful about my sistering skills that I can’t resist getting her sauced every once and while. Just for the ego boost.”
“Whatever,” I huff with a roll of my eyes.
Sabrina and Lizzy are the only people in my life who ignore me. It’s annoying but also…nice. After five years of heading up the Zurich Union Ten office and calling the shots for everyone working under me, it’s nice to be surrounded by people who don’t know how much responsibility rests on my shoulders.
I’m in deep cover—always have been and probably always will be. No one in my personal life, not even my sisters, knows I’m a spy.
Well, at least no one did. Until Nick.
I still can’t believe the co-directors, Neville and Blaire, picked Nick over me to lead the Northeast Regional office. Not only is Nick a year younger but he has three fewer years in the field. He didn’t join the junior recruit program until he was sixteen, and even if he weren’t practically a child, maturity-wise, he’s too laid back to be taken seriously by the older agents who will be reporting to him from all of northern Europe.
Hell, I can’t take him seriously, and we’re only twelve months apart in age.
Almost exactly twelve months. My sisters and I turned twenty-six tonight, and Nick’s twenty-fifth birthday is a little over two weeks away. He invited me to stay on in Baden-Bergen after our forced family fun holiday concludes for his birthday bash. I declined, of course. Sharing my birthday weekend in Switzerland with him and his brothers, then suffering through the holiday insanity in Gallantia with both of our families will fill my quota for both familial bonding and partying for the next six months.
I don’t like bonding. Or partying.
I like work.
Work is my safe place, my refuge, the realm where I’ve always met or exceeded expectations. At work, no one wants me to be anything but what I am—a highly trained professional who gets the job done and keeps her feelings to herself.
When you grow up the way I did—in a home helmed by flighty narcissists, feeling responsible for your two more fragile and emotional sisters—control is good. Power is even better.
But Nick has the power now.
He knows I’m a spy, he knows I applied for the job that’s now his, and he knows I’m pissed about both of the above.
But he doesn’t know you think about that kiss in Romania way more than you should. At least there’s that.
My inner voice sounds confident, but as I cut a glance Nick’s way, I’m not so sure. The way his eyes flash every time they meet mine, the way he looks like he’s mulling over some private joke and fighting the urge to laugh…