Page 131 of Stricken

And how the hell can I let Nico go, when he's the only thing that makes sense in this crazy, fucked-up world?

But at least now I know what I have to do to keep him safe.

CHAPTER43

VLAD

The elevator ascends like a speeding bullet, propelling Nico and I toward an unknown destination. Well, unknown to him.

The confined space is filled with a sense of anticipation, a tangible energy that can be felt in the air.

"What's going on, Vlad?" Nico asks, his blue eyes searching mine for answers as we continue flying into the sky. "Where are you taking me?"

I allow a small smile to play across my lips, hopping it's not fake, hoping he can't see through my bluff. "It's a surprise."

Nico arches an eyebrow, a gesture that only accentuates his sharp, handsome features. "Is that why you asked me to dress up?" He tips his chin down to his shirt.

I place both hands on his shoulders, feeling the fine fabric of his tailored suit beneath my fingers. "You look really good, Romeo."

In my mind, I etch this image of him into my memory.That's how I want to remember you. Alive and dashing.

"Is that a compliment I hear?" He chuckles. "From Vlad Solovey?"

I want to kiss him right there and then but the elevator dings, announcing our arrival, and the doors slide open to reveal a private rooftop dining room. Sixty-four floors in this new building on the edge of the Strip one of my colleagues constructed.

I grab Nico's hand before he gets a chance to say anything and lead us out of the elevator. Our gazes lock for a second when I glance at him over my shoulder. An unspoken acknowledgment of this evening's significance drifts between us like a suspended moment in time. Only, he doesn't know it, doesn't know what it means for me.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his gaze dropping to our joined hands.

I shrug. "I couldn't care less what the waitstaff here thinks."

He yanks me closer and whispers in my ear, "Attaboy."

"You better not start something before dinner," I mutter a response through my teeth, trying to tell my cock not to get too excited.

The room I reserved is faintly lit by the shimmering glow of strategically placed candles. Glass walls encircle the perimeter, offering a breathtaking panorama of Las Vegas. The city's neon arteries throb with life below this intimate bubble we find ourselves in.

There's a single round table in the center of the room with two chairs opposite each other.

The maître d' appears, silently polite. He greets us with a small bow and takes us to our seats.

There's no mistaking in what it is.

A date.

A real fucking date.

Something I should have done with him a long time ago. Maybe the moment he approached me in that California hotel bar.

"I must say when you told me it was a surprise, I thought it would be anything but this," Nico murmurs as maître d' takes a few steps back to let us settle first.

"What did you expect?" I ask, pulling a chair for him. "An armory or a shooting range tour?"

He sits down. "Knowing you… Possibly."

"I figured," I round the table and pause to take a deep breath, "we should have an anniversary and we should celebrate it."

"What are we celebrating?"

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