“What inspired it?”
My face flushes, and I wish I could slam the sketchpad shut. Or better yet, rip the page off and crumble it like I’ve done with the other attempts. I don’t want Nikita seeing my drawing, especially notthisdrawing. It’s just a tattoo on a man I know, but it somehow feels intimate, a dirty little secret of mine. I wonder what Nikita would think if he knew I stay awake at night thinking about a man who isn’t my fiancé. Then again, gifting me to the Italian’s don would be a more direct peace offering than gifting me to Paolo.
“I don’t know,” I manage, looking away.
Nikita laughs and pushes the sketchpad to the side. Silence ensues, and I stand still as I let him undress me in his mind. I can see him eyeing me up from my periphery, and I don’t miss it when his hand brushes the hem of my shirt.
“There’s something else I came to talk to you about.”
He brushes me again, this time going so far as to slip his hand into my shirt and graze my waistline.
“What would that be, sir?” I catch the repulsion in my tone, but if it upsets Nikita, he doesn’t show it.
“I heard you met the Italian’s don.”
“Yes sir.”
“How did that go?”
How did it go? Are you fucking asking me how sex with Settimo was? What do you want me to tell you, how many times I came?
“It went fine,” I say. Something occurs to me, and I find the courage to look Nikita in the eyes. “He didn’t know who I was, though… I’m a peace offering for the Italians, right? Because of the tension between us?”
Nikita nods.
My brow furrows in confusion. “Shouldn’t Settimo know who I am?”
“Settimo?” Nikita asks, raising a brow.
I immediately realize my mistake, and my heart jumps. “Mr. Gruco, I mean… sorry.”
“The man doesn’t deserve the respect, but I’m surprised you’re on a first name basis with him.”
Whatever hint of a smile was left on his face is gone. His hand rests at his side, done with his subtle intrusions.
I shake my head. “I’m not. Sorry, that…” I pause for a moment to think. Why do I get the feeling this is important? “That’s just what Paolo calls him in conversation. So he’s that in my mind.”
“Ah.” Nikita’s murderous eyes soften some. “You said he doesn’t know who you are. Did youtellhim?”
I shake my head. “No.” After a beat, I add, “We didn’t talk much.”
“So I imagine there’s not much you know about him. Nothing you can share with me?”
Why?
“No, sir.”
Nikita frowns, but he nods in acceptance. “Okay. That’s what I needed to know.” He takes a step back from me and gives me a small smile. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
He turns his back to me and starts toward the door. My mouth opens, but the words stick in my throat.
Don’t be stupid, Alexa.
Do not be…
Fuck it.
“You never answered my question.”