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I met his gaze. “For me?”

He nodded, his pupils dilating as I opened my mouth and allowed him to place the chicken inside. “Do you like it?”

I chewed and swallowed and nodded. “Yes. It’s very nice.” My voice came out breathy and my heart rate accelerated.

Nicolas’s nostrils flared and he redirected his attention to his plate before gesturing for me to eat.

“Would you like me to draw you a bath? I’ll draw you a bath for a change from the shower.” He stood and walked away before I had chance to reply.

I’d finished my meal before he emerged from the bathroom, wiping soap suds from his bare forearm with a towel.

“Your bath’s ready,” he announced unnecessarily, and I looked at him, enjoying the sheen the humidity of the bathroom had left on him. He met my gaze for a moment then looked away, directing his attention to the wall behind me. “I’ll stand outside the door.”

That statement was also unnecessary. Nicolas always stood outside the bathroom door while I was in there. It was like when he’d asked Jason to guard me.

But different.

More personal.

I stood from my seat and folded my napkin to leave on the table. “Please tell Chef his jambalaya was amazing, and if he keeps feeding me like this, I won’t be able to leave the room because I won’t fit through the door.”

Nicolas laughed. “I’ll get the bedroom ready,” he said, and that meant he’d tidy away our meal, change into pajama pants and a T-shirt, pull an armchair next to the bed so he could sit alongside me, and turn down my comforter ready for me to climb in, because that was what he did every night for me.

I rested my hand on his forearm as I walked by, the brief touch searing my palm. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He nodded in response, the movement stiff and controlled.

When I returned to my room, Nicolas skimmed his gaze over me like he was assessing my well-being before he retreated to his armchair, drawing a knitted blanket over his legs. I climbed into the bed and turned out the light, plunging the room into darkness, then lay perfectly still, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

Nicolas breathed softly at the side of me, and the feeling of safety he generated wrapped me tighter than any comforter.

“Nicolas?”

“Are you all right?” Quiet concern laced his tone, and I basked in the knowledge he’d do anything in his power to ensure my safety and happiness.

“Yes.” I fell silent for a moment. “Are you comfortable?”

He exhaled. “Perfectly. Your well-being is all I need.”

I nibbled my lip as I watched him, a dim shape with eyes that gleamed as they rested on me. “Would you be more comfortable in the bed?”

The sound of his quiet breathing stopped.

“I just don’t think it can be very comfortable for you to keep sleeping in a chair.”

He swallowed then cleared his throat. “I merely rest.”

“Then rest here.” I drew the comforter back on the other side, almost unsure why I was pushing my point, except I craved his proximity with a ferocity I couldn’t explain.

“I…”

“Please, Nicolas.”

“Nic.” He ground out the correction, and the sound of it send a bolt of desire to my core.

“Please, Nic.”

He groaned softly, but didn’t reply as he stood then clutched the blanket in his hands as he walked around the bed and climbed in. I didn’t turn to face him but I wriggled back just until the heat from his body warmed me.

“Can’t you protect me better from here, anyway?” I already sounded drowsy, and I barely felt his light touches against my hair.

“But who will protect you from me?” His voice was so soft I almost thought I imagined it before sleep claimed me.

 

   

When I woke up, Nic was leaning on his elbow, watching me.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” An indulgent grin claimed his mouth, and I stretched, stifling a yawn. “How did you sleep?”

“Great. Like the dead. You?”

His grin widened. “Like the undead.” His gaze turned serious as it drifted to my mouth, and my heart rate picked up as I imagined his lips on mine, but he rolled away, the movement sudden. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, not facing me. “I thought you might like a walk in the grounds this morning? The weather isn’t too hot yet, and some sun and fresh air would be good for you.”

Then he stood and made his way to the bathroom.

I rolled over in bed to lie on my back as I looked at the high ceiling. Nicolas’s home was a true sanctuary, and I was starting to think his heart was too.

I was losing my heart to him, anyway. Maybe that had been inevitable from the start. There had always been something I couldn’t explain, couldn’t define. A pull I’d resisted.

When Nicolas emerged from the bathroom, he headed straight for the closet, where he’d had some of his clothes moved to. His dark suits mostly, because that was all I ever saw him wear.

I took my turn in the bathroom then, afterward, followed his tracks to the closet. He turned as I entered, my towel gathered above my breasts, and I inhaled an extra breath at the sight of him in jeans and a soft gray T-shirt that made me think of his eyes.

“Sorry. I’ll be out of your way in a moment.” He grinned, and I couldn’t help but smile back. Casual suited him. It also added to his vague sense of danger, like the predator was hiding behind a harmless façade.

“I… I asked Romilly to send you some jeans and T-shirts,” he murmured as he referenced the owner of the boutique next to his casino. He gestured to a shelf to his right. “You don’t have to wear anything you don’t like, though.”