Fifteen minutes later, we’re delivering a bound and gagged Blaire, a tied-up and resigned to his fate Tony, and a still-unconscious Stefano—along with Beatrice’s digital pet— to the extraction team at the airport dock.
Nick and I debrief the leaders of the op as swiftly as possible, and with promises to make a thorough report as soon as we land in Gallantia, we’re on our way.
I lean my forehead against the window as we take off, watching the island shrink and eventually disappear behind golden, sun-laced clouds. When I turn back, Beatrice is already asleep in the chair across from mine, clearly exhausted from her eventful day.
“I suppose I should be tired, too, but I’m not,” Nick whispers from his chair beside me. He nods toward the back of the plane. “Have a drink with me?”
Nodding, I reach for my seat belt, quietly unlocking the clasp, and follow him. I slide onto a stool while he circles to the other side of the bar and opens a wide, shallow drawer beneath the counter, where the liquor bottles are secured for safety. “Whiskey on the rocks? Gin and tonic? Virgin rum and Coke?”
“The last one, please,” I say, my lips curving. “Thanks.”
“I’ll join you. Best to stay sober.” He clinks ice into two glasses, pops the top of a bottle, and pours fizzing soda into both, pushing one my way. “At least until we rough out an outline for our report. I figure it’s best to get down the details while they’re still fresh.”
“Agreed.” I accept the drink with twitchy fingers. Pre-threats of imminent death, discussing our relationship—or the possibility of starting one—would have felt natural. But Nick’s been stiff and reserved since we left the boat. “But first, could we talk about the elephant in the room?”
He meets my gaze over the top of his glass as he drinks. Swallowing, he says, “The fact that Beatrice knows we’re spies and can’t be trusted to keep her mouth shut about anything?”
“I don’t think that’s true. But yes, things will be different now, for sure. We’re probably both off the undercover roster for a while.”
Nick lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “I imagine most operations will be on hold anyway. It’s going to take time to figure out how long Blaire’s been a double agent and who she might have turned before she was caught.”
“Agreed. Only, that wasn’t the elephant I was talking about. I meant…you know. The things I said. The things you said. The things we both seem to feel…”
He takes a deeper drink and then sets his empty glass on the bar. Bracing his hands on either side of it, he pulls in a breath. “As much as I hate to say it—and I really do hate to say it—I don’t think it’s a good idea. You and me. Not right now.”
Brow furrowed, I nod, trying to look casual, hoping he can’t see how much his words hurt or how close I was to falling for him. Hard. “Of course. You’re probably right.”
“Things are already complicated for us at home,” he continues in a maddeningly logical tone, “with our siblings coupled up and starting families. And with an internal affairs investigation on the horizon, things are going to become complicated at work, too. If we have something romantic going on, it will put stress on us in both places. And then there’s the fact that, until you’re promoted, I’m technically your boss.”
“Not just technically,” I say, some stupid part of me holding out hope that we can find a way to make this work. “You are my boss. But I’m not worried about that, Nick. I trust you not to abuse your position. And if you tried, I wouldn’t stand for it anyway.”
His lips quirk. “I know you wouldn’t. You’re a total pro. I just want to make sure the powers that be see that as clearly as I do. And I don’t think a friends-with-benefits thing between us would do you any favors. It could make you look unprofessional when you want to spotlight your stellar record and potential.”
I nod again, slowly, fighting to swallow past the lump in my throat.
Friends with benefits.
That’s all he’s interested in, and I already want so much more. I’m already up to my armpits in the feelings ocean, on the verge of being sucked down by the undertow.
And that means…he’s right.
“Okay, sounds good,” I say.
“Yeah?” His brow furrows. “You’re sure?”
“Of course. Subject closed. We’ll be friends.”
“Friends,” he agrees, a hopeful light in his eyes. “Good friends?”
“Good friends,” I assure him.
This is right. Proper. We’ll be friends. Coworkers. In-laws.
Nothing more.
I just wish I didn’t feel like tiny gnomes with pitchforks are stabbing the backs of my eyes and stomping on my heart.
But as the conversation moves to less treacherous ground, and Nick goes to fetch his laptop to type up our notes, I can’t bring myself to regret falling for him.