Page 7

Gio hadn’t stepped foot in there since she left us waiting for her after the championship game. I glanced down at the ring still on my finger. The band was comforting, reminding me of our connection, and a time when we were all a bit more innocent.

Maybe that was pushing it. I was pretty sure neither Gio nor I should ever be described as innocent, but our time with her had been. Because Nicolette was pure. Not her body—we did every dirty thing together you could possibly imagine and then some. But her soul and heart… those were pure, unsullied.

My hands gripped the wheel. What had our years apart done to her? Would she still be intact? Her mind and heart certainly wouldn’t be. I’d heard the break in her voice, the utter devastation when she shared her news with me. I would kill the fucker when I found him. No, kill was too good for him.

When I entered the neighborhood of the address she’d given me, I slowed down, looking for anyone that appeared suspicious. Parking along the side of the building, I scanned the area but saw nothing that raised a red flag.

I moved up the steps and punched in the code she sent.

“It’s me,” I said when she answered the intercom.

I hesitated outside the third-floor apartment. I didn’t want to alert anyone who may be watching her to my presence or scare her with the level of anger I was feeling. I had to bury that deep inside and prepare for whatever sight met my eyes.

Sighing, I lifted my hand to knock as she opened the door. My upraised hand hung midair as I took her in. Was it possible that she was even smaller than in school? She was so tiny and bone-thin.

Don’t freak, just breathe.

Her haunted eyes took me in, rounding slightly as they traveled up, down and back up again. Her mouth worked to speak but no words came out. She held my gaze and a tear tracked down her cheek.

“You’re even bigger than before.” She attempted a chuckle that fell flat, turning into a sob.

I pulled her against me and scooped her up into my arms. Gently cradling her, I crossed the threshold into her apartment.

She clung to me, her arms wrapped around my neck, soaking my shirt with her tears. I kicked the door shut, noting the flimsy locks. Anyone with a good boot could have gotten through that door. But there were no signs of forced entry. The chain was intact and the wood around the frame was undamaged.

The well-worn couch groaned beneath our combined weight as I settled onto it with Niki in my lap, still clinging to me as though her life depended on it. The apartment was very small, and I was able to see the entirety of it from our place on the couch. One wall was covered in photos, some framed, while larger ones were tacked at the corners like the posters we’d hung up in the pool house all those years ago.

A small bistro table boasting a vase of flowers in its center with two chairs tucked in on either side was all that separated the kitchen from the living space. The counters were clear. The fridge, humming loudly, sounded like it was on its last legs. The place was tidy, clean, and undisturbed. Maybe she wasn’t accosted here. I did tell her to go somewhere safe so her attack must have happened elsewhere.

Speculation wouldn’t help. I needed facts. “Nicolette, tell me what happened.”

She gripped me tighter and buried her face in my neck. I couldn’t help inhaling her scent. Even under the sweat and salt that had dried on her skin, I could detect the subtle notes of rose, ylang-ylang, and white lily. It was Sensual Youth, the perfume I’d bought her for the grad dance.

When I’d gone looking for a graduation gift and passed the perfume counter, I noticed a gaggle of girls our age crowded around it. Curious, I wandered over after they left to see what all the fuss was about.

The sales lady had sprayed the perfume on a card, waved it gently through the air a few times, and then held it under my nose. I knew it would be perfect for Niki—the scent reminded me of her, so I bought the bottle and gave it to her that night. When we picked her up in the limo for the dance, I sprayed some on her neck, wrists and décolletage.

“Mmm, it’s delicious, Daddy,” she’d said with a wink.

I smiled at the memory of her calling me Daddy. It had become a new thing with her as she said I made her feel safe and protected like a Daddy should. I had no problem with that as that was how I was wired, and still am.

The old Daddy dynamic might still reach her where reason couldn’t. “Nicolette. Sit up and look me in the eye and tell me what happened, now.”

“Do I have to?” came her muffled reply.

“If you don’t, you’ll be in the corner with a red ass, and trust me, I won’t hold back like I used to.”

She sat up and pouted, right on cue, crossing her arms. I was instantly transported to the last time she’d gotten in trouble with me, and I’d spanked her sexy bottom. It was as if no time had passed since we were last in this position.

“Don’t you give me attitude. I broke every traffic law getting to you as fast as I could. Now tell me what happened.”

She uncrossed her arms, a slight blush staining her cheeks. “Okay, but before you get mad, I have a confession.”

Mad? I was already fuming.

She must have noticed the muscle in my jaw ticking because her confession was delivered without her taking a breath to pause.

“I don’t know what’s going on. Someone’s trying to kill me, or maim me at least. It’s happened more than once, and always at the studio, but then today they broke in here. So, you see, I didn’t know what else to do, and the police were no help. All they wanted was a damn selfie! Poor Sergei keeps questioning the dancers and the staff, but no one has seen anything,” she finished, finally taking a deep breath.