Sweet As Sin

36

“My place.”

He correctly interpreted my stunned look, but wasn’t taking “no” for an answer.

“You’re staying with me until this dies down.” He jerked his head toward the closed door. “And we’ll figure out what we’re gonna do to get this place more secure. I know a guy who does great security systems. Gates, surveillance, the whole—”

“I’m not installing gates around my house, Nico. I don’t want to live like a prisoner!”

And why had he just assumed I’d stay with him? He hadn’t even asked! I’d stay at a hotel. This was too weird to be believed.

“Kat,” said Grace, still with that quiet, unnerving voice, “he’s right.”

That was the last thing I expected to hear her say. I turned to stare at her.

“If you and Nico are going to be together, you need to be realistic about what that entails. What’s happening outside today is the tip of the iceberg in terms of what you’re up against. You have to start thinking about protecting your privacy, and your safety. Now that they know who you are, you’ll be hunted.”

Hunted? Chills coursed down my spine.

“They’ll start going through your trash. They’ll follow you to your car, the grocery store, the movies, the doctor’s office. They’ll climb the trees to get a better view into your yard, to see if they can get private pictures of you and Nico . . . ” her face slightly reddened, “together. And if they do, they won’t hesitate to publish those pictures. Or, God forbid, video.”

Lurid and horrible, snippets of celebrity s*x tape scandals flashed through my mind’s eye. Was I about to join the ranks of such women as Pamela Anderson, Paris Hilton, and Kim Kardashian?

“This isn’t making me feel better, Grace.”

“Sorry, sweetie. But you’ve been through worse. I’m sure you can handle this. It’s not the end of the world, it’s just . . . a major adjustment.”

Nico’s fingers tightened around my arms. He was looking back and forth between me and Grace. I knew he was wondering what she’d meant by “been through worse.”

The story I’d told him about why I hated my birthday wasn’t the worst of my little Pandora’s box of sordid stories. Not by a long shot.

“All right. I’ll get my stuff.” I didn’t add that I’d be staying at a hotel. I didn’t want to have that particular discussion with Nico in front of the girls. I knew how he was about getting his way.

“C’mon.” Grace moved toward the bedroom. “I’ll help you pack. Chloe?”

Still looking dazed, Chloe nodded, following Grace into the bedroom. Nico and I were left alone.

The first thing he did was pull me into a hard hug. He smelled like cigarettes again, and leather, and some kind of spicy cologne. He put his mouth to my ear, his unshaven cheek scratching my skin. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah. Thanks for that, but it is.”

My head tucked against his chest, I sighed. Then, realizing I hadn’t yet brushed my teeth, I mashed my lips together in horror. And my hair. And my face!

I gently pulled myself from Nico’s arms, noting as I did that he was still wound tight as a bowstring.

“Okay. Five minutes. Be right back.”

Before he could answer, I dashed after Chloe and Grace, closing the bedroom door behind me.

I found Chloe sitting on the edge of my bed, looking lost. Grace had pulled my oversized duffel bag out from the closet, and was calmly putting a pair of folded jeans into it. I watched her cross to my dresser, pull out several pairs of panties, socks, and T-shirts, and add them to the duffel.

“Grace.”

She didn’t stop packing. “I already know what you’re going to say, Kat. But you’re wrong. I don’t hate him.”

“You don’t?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice.

“No.”

“Even after what just happened? What you just warned me that’s going to keep happening if I keep seeing him?”

She glanced at me. Her hands fell still. I waited impatiently for her to speak. Even Chloe sat a little straighter.

“He’s not what I would’ve wanted for you. It’s too complicated, too risky, too . . . much. I still don’t trust him. And I still think it’s going to end in disaster, I’ve made that pretty clear. But—and this is a big, extenuating but—when a man acts as protective as Nico just did, it means he cares. A lot. He wasn’t at all concerned about how he was going to look to the press, or with how the police might react to his crazy chest-thumping Tarzan routine; he was only concerned with you. So, if nothing else, I’m convinced at least that he doesn’t see you as just another notch in his bedpost.” She resumed packing the duffel. “Obviously I still think this relationship will be about as stable as the Titanic, but after watching him go ballistic because you were upset, I’m keeping my mouth shut from here on out. Well, except for this small public service announcement: no glove, no love.”

I was touched. It wasn’t like Grace to cut men slack. Especially men of the galactic-ego variety. “Gee, Grandma, I think you’re getting soft in your old age.”

“Shut up,” she said mildly, “and go brush your teeth. That breath of yours is about to ignite something.”

So, after giving Grace a hug, I followed her advice. I hurriedly washed my face, brushed my teeth, stuck my hair in a ponytail, and changed my clothes. Then Grace and Chloe helped me put together the rest of what I’d need for a few days away.

A few days away . . . with Nico.

Titanic, here I come. Hope there’s room in the lifeboats.