Page 127 of Stricken

Tired of trying to distract myself from what happened earlier at the Morelli's, I shut the laptop closed and lean back in my chair. I pick up the tumbler from the desk and absently swirl the whiskey. Ivan ends the call.

"We've located the compound in Guanajuato," he reports in Russian, his tone professional and unbothered.

"Good," I mutter under my nose while my mind keeps coming back to Nico. Is he okay? Will he survive this?

"Entry will be a challenge, but not impossible," Ivan adds. "My team is strategizing the best approach as we speak."

I nod, my gaze drifting to the rivulets of water cascading down the window, like tears shed by an evening sky. The carnage at the Morelli mansion seems to have unleashed a real storm, both outside and within.

"Keep me updated on the progress," I tell Ivan, my voice distant even to my own ears. "We need to mo—"

The buzzing of my phone interrupts my train of thought. I glance at the screen. It's my head of perimeter security.

"Da?" I answer.

"Mr. Solovey, Nicola Morelli has just arrived at the gate. Shall we let him through?"

Anticipation sparks in my chest, momentarily pushing aside the weight of the day's events. "Yes, send him in. Thank you." I'm about to end the call, but then I say, "And Grigori."

"Mr. Solovey?"

"Don't stop Nicola Morelli if he comes. Just let him pass. He already has the entry codes."

"Understood, Mr. Solovey."

I hang up, meeting Ivan's questioning gaze with one of my own furious counter-stares.

"The Italian?" he asks, a hint of disapproval lacing his words.

"You can go, Ivan," I say. "We'll continue tomorrow."

Ivan hesitates, as if wanting to voice his concerns, but ultimately thinks better of it. He nods curtly. "As you wish. And regarding the matter we were discussing… I'll have an updated report from my guys ready by morning."

As he turns to leave, I can't miss the tension in his shoulders, an indication of his unspoken reservations about my involvement with Nico. But there are some things even Ivan cannot understand—the inexplicable pull that draws me to Nicola Morelli. The sense of connection I feel to him defies all logic and reason.

The rain continues to fall as Ivan pauses at the doorway, his hand resting on the polished wood frame. "I don't like it, Vladimir," he affirms in his gruff voice. "Allowing a Morelli into your private home... it's a risk we can't afford."

I meet his gaze once more, my expression impassive. "Your concerns are noted, Ivan. But my personal life is not up for discussion."

A muscle twitches in Ivan's jaw, but he knows better than to push the issue further. With a polite tip of his chin, he exits the office.

I sit at my desk, waiting. My heart pounding a relentless beat.

I hadn't expected Nico to show up tonight. He's got more important matters to handle at the Morelli place. Still, he's here. And I don't know how I feel about this.

There's a knock. The heavy office door opens, and Nico steps inside.

"Hey, Ivan said you'd be here," he begins.

I take in his appearance, allowing myself this small indulgence of simply studying him. He's dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, a light brown jacket is thrown over his shoulders. Raindrops cling to his dark hair, only making them wave more across his forehead. There's something seductive in the way he looks—normal. The raindrops are a nice touch.

I rise from my chair, unable to control myself. I'm not sure how much time I have left with him. These things in our world never last no matter how badly people want to be together. And that's my only desire right now. To be with him. It beats all other logical needs and ambitions.

"Nico," I breathe, closing the distance between us in a few strides. "What are you doing here?"

He turns away from me, raking a hand through his hair, and glancing outside through the window.

"What's wrong?" I ask, taking another step forward to remove all space between us altogether.

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