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I hesitated. “Where are we going?” I was about to get into an actual helicopter and fly fuck knew where with a guy who’d essentially won me in gambling debt.
“I know a nice little place in New Orleans.” His face was partly in shadow, but the light caught his smile, and there was something disarming about it. “Let me show you the world beyond Baton Rouge?” He phrased it like I was the one doing him a favor, and I took a step toward him, beguiled by that idea.
I’d set my boundaries, but I was essentially at his mercy, anyway. If this was some sort of elaborate abduction, at least I’d go out on a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
I nodded as Nicolas held his hand out to me, and walked in his direction. His fingers were warm as they curved around mine.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, so soft I wasn’t sure he was even speaking to me.
The inside of the helicopter was cramped with the pilot, Jason, Nicolas, and me inside it. Forget sleek. Apparently, my first impression should have been small. Nicolas drew the straps of my harness over my shoulders, then reached for the hem of my dress and bunched it a little as he delved quickly under the fabric between my legs.
I stiffened at the unexpectedness of his touch.
“Sorry.” But he didn’t look at all sorry as one corner of his lips tilted in mischief. “Only problem with a dress on a helicopter.”
He fastened all five points of my seatbelt together and tightened it to his liking, then handed me a pair of headphones with a microphone attached and put a pair on himself before he fastened his own seatbelt.
The engines started, and the noise was loud, even with the ear protection. The pilot’s voice crackled through my headphones, cancelling out the white noise, informing Nicolas of takeoff and flight duration, and then my stomach swooped as the helicopter lifted from the roof, the movement almost ungainly and uncoordinated.
I curved my fingers tightly around the armrests of my seat and gasped quietly. Then Nicolas’s hand was over mine, coaxing my death-grip from the chair as he hooked my fingers into his again. When I glanced at him, he watched me without judgement.
“Watch as we approach New Orleans,” he said, his voice soothing even over the communication system.
I glanced out of the windows, taking in the glints of water below us, and the silver strip of the Mississippi in the fading light. A bigger city sat ahead of us, lights starting to blink on as the sky began to bleed into pinks and oranges.
We landed in a way that felt every bit as gangly and awkward as takeoff, and my fingers tightened around Nicolas’s. But now we were here, adrenaline spiked across my nerves for a whole different reason. I’d just completed my first helicopter ride, but my idea of a meal out was eating leftover fries in my office at The Pour House.
Something told me this was next level shit. Maybe Nicolas had made a mistake bringing me. This wasn’t the sort of place I could fit in.
As if he sensed my apprehension, he touched one of the delicate curls they’d left loose right by my face. “Beautiful,” he murmured.
Then I looked away as he released my seatbelt before helping me across the roof of the building we’d landed on.
“Welcome to The Neutral Zone,” he murmured as he led the way into the restaurant.
We sat in a private booth with a perfect view of a small stage as a live jazz band played during our meal. Nicolas was a perfect gentleman—attentive without being overbearing—and I began to relax as each of the dishes he recommended practically melted in my mouth.
I looked around the red and black interior of the restaurant, and it was like some sort of representation of a lust-filled hell, which the sensual beat of the music only added to. Just as I started to relax, my body angling toward Nicolas, he set his napkin over the plate of food he’d only half-finished and flashed me an apologetic smile.
“There’s some business I need to take care of quickly, but you’re safe here.” He stood as he spoke, not giving me chance to protest. “I’ll be as fast as I can. Wait here for me, drink your fill, enjoy the music. I’ve taken care of the check, but I’ll be back for dessert.” He swept his gaze over me, something hungry and a little possessive in his eyes, and my body reacted to him straight away. Tension took hold of his face. “I won’t be long.”
I sat and listened to the music for a little while, taking in everything that made this space so different from The Pour House—and really, any restaurant I’d ever been to or imagined. The serving staff were smartly dressed and attentive. I only needed to catch someone’s eye, and they brought me extra rolls or a fresh drink.
But I wanted more. I’d never been to New Orleans, and this seemed like a waste of time. I was sitting in a room while the entire city lay just outside. And Nicolas was nowhere to be seen. He’d probably want to leave as soon as his meeting concluded.
Eventually, the desire to explore made me restless. Nicolas had told me we were in the French Quarter, and I wanted to see all of the buildings I’d only ever glimpsed in magazines. As I sat alone in the booth longer, and the server’s glances grew more sympathetic, I made up my mind.
If Nicolas was happy to leave me high and dry again—first a phone call during lunch and now what seemed to be a premeditated business meeting during dinner—I could take some time, too. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t run a slightly sketchy bar myself for years. I knew how to be alert and the types of people to watch out for. I’d had to learn how to judge people very quickly in my line of business and assess threat levels. I only wanted to walk down the street a little way, after all.
I wouldn’t be gone for a long time. Just a good time.
I’d probably be back at the table before Nicolas was.
Chapter 8
Nic
I walked away from the booth determined to return quickly. We were in the safest place in New Orleans, but nowhere was truly a safe place to leave my virgin mate. Not when she was the key to securing my reign and hadn’t yet been claimed.
