And he was sitting right next to her.
Nikki’s pulse jumped.
Who was this hotter-than-hell guy, really?
Jude’s cautious voice instantly resonated in her mind: When someone vanishes the way Nico did and then people who surrounded him vanish, too… It can get very dangerous for anyone asking too many questions. Do you understand?
Yeah, she did.
And ominously wondered if she’d already crossed that line…
“How the hell are you sitting next to me on an airplane?” Nikki carefully, apprehensively asked.
Damen tore his penetrating gaze from her and took a long drink from his glass, draining it.
“You do know who I am, right?” she quietly demanded.
He held the tumbler in his hand, twisting his wrist as he examined the spectrum of light the cut-crystal created as sunrays filtered in from the window, hitting the glass at various angles.
Nikki’s hand shot out and she jerked the shade down, cutting off the spectacle that momentarily held him spellbound.
His gaze returned to her. He grinned.
“You have a lot of questions. I’m prepared to answer…some of them. Once we’re in the air.”
“Oh, no,” she said as she leaned forward and snatched her laptop bag from under the seat in front of her. “I’m not flying back to the States with you. Whatever the fuck you’re involved with, I don’t want to be mistaken for an accomplice. In fact… I don’t want to know a damn thing about you.”
Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. Her inquisitive mind was going bat-shit crazy at the moment, as she experienced a tug-o-war of emotions. Part of her needed to know what the hell was going on—and what sort of danger she’d unwittingly found herself in. The other part of her wanted to drown in his deep-blue irises.
Seriously?
That was what she was thinking of at a time like this?
What is wrong with you?
Maybe he’d paid the flight attendant to slip something into her drink.
She instantly dislodged that thought from her mind. Forced herself to get a grip.
From beside her, Damen Castillo very casually said, “You can’t get off the plane.”
“Watch me.”
He smirked, knowingly. The plane began to move. They were pushing back from the gate.
Son of a bitch!
The first-class flight attendant appeared at Damen’s elbow to collect their glasses. She spied Nikki with her bag in her hand and said, “I’m so sorry. You’re going to have to replace your carry-on under the seat. And shut down your phone, of course. We’re taxying, and international travel rules state—”
Blah, blah, blah.
Oh, for the everlasting love of God!
The flight attendant moved on.
Nikki wanted to scream.
Perhaps she should scream.