We moved from the sushi bar, to an actual bar across the street. This time, we got a private room in the back—one that was strategically off-limits to both patrons and the inevitable paparazzi hovering on the sidewalk. Those cameras Elisia had been craving the entire time.
Buttons were loosened, jackets were removed. A bottle of aged whiskey was set in between us on the table. Nicholas opened it without a word and poured two glasses.
Then he leaned back and waited for an explanation.
...an explanation I was having a hard time giving.
I took one look at his face, and abruptly paNicholased. He didn’t look particularly mad, but the fact that I was even in this ridiculous situation, speechless as a guilty school girl sitting in the principal’s office, was making my head spin. I took a big
