Secrets Of The Phantom Heir

Episode 3

A week had passed .. Nikolai was in Italy, overseeing the opening of his new hotel. The

perfect end to the week for Elara was Saturday night at the opera with Bryan, an Australian art

collector.

“He pays so little attention to me. He’s more interested in the fat lady singing,”she heard a voice

outside.

Elara shook her head in the bathroom stall. The fat lady singing was one of the most famous

opera singers in the world.

“I’m just going to leave. Maybe I can catch y’all at the club”

Elara was surprised to see Lena Marchand powdering her nose when she got out. Was Nikolai

back already?

The opera ended on a high note, but three hours with Bryan had been an overdose. After

fervently convincing him she was comfortable walking home, she sighed in relief. Monaco was

even more perfect at night, small enough to wander.

A black limo slithered beside her and came to a stop. Unbothered, Elara continued walking.

“Miss Vaughn,” Nikolai’s voice called from the window. She turned, the streetlight catching the

golden highlights in her blonde hair.

“Can I give you a ride?”

“I’m quite comfortable walking, thank you.”

“Even in those shoes?” His gaze roamed deliberately from her face to the black studded Prada

heels.

She smiled, hiding the effect his eyes had on her. “Even in these six-inch heels. Bye.”

Expecting him to drive off, she continued walking. But the limo crawled alongside her.

Ahead, a group of drunk men shouted lewd comments at passing women. Elara froze. Nikolai

leaned halfway out of the window. “Now will you get in?”

She hated the triumphant gleam in his eyes, but she had no choice. I hate you so much right now,

she muttered under her breath, shooting a charming smile at the driver who opened the door.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’m okay. You can drop me off at the next block,” she said, sitting so close that she could smell

his signature scent. Moving now would give him the impression she was afraid.

“Are you so upset at the idea of sitting with me?” Nikolai’s unblinking gaze held hers, intense

and staggering.

“I’m not terribly pleased sitting with a man who despises me.”

“What makes you say that?” He reached out, toying with a few tendrils that had escaped her

chignon.

“You look at me like my breathing offends you,” she said, as his finger skimmed her cheek.

“And my father—”

He deliberately ignored the last part. Her skin was smooth, soft…perfect. “Did it ever occur to

you that I’m mad at myself?”

Her eyes, already glazed from their proximity, lifted to meet his. “Why would you-“

The car stopped, and Elara realized they’d arrived at her building. She tightened her wrap around

her shoulders, suddenly cold when his fingers retreated.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Harr—”

“Call me Nik. And…won’t you invite me up for a nightcap, as a thank you?”

“I don’t have the fancy scotch you’re used to,” she said, gesturing to the snifter of Balvenie 30-

year in his hand.

Nik smirked. “Sometimes I like to taste how the other half lives.”

Her apartment suited her extraordinarily—baby blue and white, the blueprint of sophistication.

“Have a seat, please,” she said, flustered. The Phantom Heir looked so out of place in her tiny

apartment.

She had changed from heels into white fuzzy slippers right at the door.

“Really nice place,” he said, watching her cautiously.

“Thanks. What can I get you? Whiskey, scotch, wine? Or some food?”

“I’m a scotch man.” Nik grinned, and it threw Elara off. She hadn’t seen him smile before;

smirks, yes—but nothing like this.

“Umm, yeah…okay. I’ll just be a minute.”

Armed with a glass of scotch, wine, and a bowl of microwave popcorn, Elara unconsciously let

her guard down.

“Sometimes I want to tousle your hair.”

He laughed. “Why?”

“’Cause it’s too perfect.”

Nik took her hand and combed it through his jet-black hair. “Like this?”

She smiled, keeping her hand in his. “You look so damn adorable right now.”

“Really?” He scooted closer, their knees touching. “How adorable?”

She tugged his tie. “Jamie Dornan in Fifty Shades level cute.”

He looked at her, enthralled by the gray sweats she’d changed into. Just then, her across-the-hall

neighbor began his nightly drum practice.

“Everything about this moment is so wrong,” Elara laughed, pulling him by the tie and kissing

him.

Nikolai lost himself in the feel and taste of her—the sweetness, the promise of danger. His hands

roamed under her sweatshirt, eliciting a soft moan from her. But then…the drums stopped. A

sharp, reality-check pause.

Elara pulled back, her shirt neatly in place, and looked anywhere but at him. What the hell was she

thinking?

“Thank you for the drink,” Nik said, the Phantom Heir returning in full force. Gone was the

playful man tossing popcorn in the air.

“I’ll see you out.”

At the door, she finally met his gaze. How could something so wrong feel so right?

“Goodnight, Elara.”

“Goodnight, Nikolai.”