“Let us not forget the tequila.” She let out a soft groan. “I might have gone a little overboard.”
“You can sleep it off. In my bed.” He didn’t even pose it as a suggestion or a question. He wanted her to spend one more night with him. And she was evidently too wiped out, perhaps even still too tipsy, to argue with him or disagree in the slightest.
In fact, she was asleep again minutes later. He listened to her steady, easy breathing…and tried to breathe a bit easier himself.
No luck there.
Damen had a hell of a lot on his mind. Most of it was wrapped around Nikki and her computer. The fact that she’d no doubt be out the door tomorrow morning, once she was rested and refreshed.
Chances were damn slim he’d ever see her again, and that gutted him.
He toiled over all of this and it seemed to eat away at his very soul.
But he had more on his mind that he couldn’t quite reconcile.
Damen’s superiors weren’t the least bit pleased by how a civilian had been roped into the investigation…and put in harm’s way.
That meant Garcia was on their radar—and Damen had to file an official report regarding the agent’s involvement from start to finish.
And bad news…all the dings against her meant this wasn’t going to end well for Fiora Garcia.
As pissed as Damen was at her, he would never discount she had talent, drive and chutzpah. She was a fast-thinker and learner, highly resourceful and had a knack for being at the right place at the right time.
The truth was, Damen had trusted her enough to take Nikki to Little Tijuana. Sure, he knew Garcia’s relatives were all heavily armed and many of them worked for federal agencies. But beyond her family serving as a protective shield for Nikki, he didn’t doubt for a second that Fiora would as well.
Making it painful and hypocritical, in his head, to have to report her.
Fuck his life, he was just getting more and more entangled in emotional conflicts, and his good conscience seemed to be tested at every turn.
On the plus side, Nikki was currently easy to deal with while she was drowsy and malleable and apparently stuffed to the gills, because she made the most contented sighs as she napped.
He regretted having to wake her when they arrived at his estate.
As the car passed through the gates, he gently roused her. A light kiss on the temple, a whisper in her ear, the wisp of his fingertips along her cheek.
Her eyelids drifted open and she gazed up at him, her sooty, velvety lashes fluttering, making his pulse pound a bit harder in his veins.
“I was out again?” she queried as he gathered her in his arms once more and carried her to the front door, which opened upon their approach. “Jesus, what is with me?”
“You’ve had some trying times of late. I doubt you’ve actually gotten any real length of quality sleep since the explosions in Mexico City.”
“You’re not the least bit incorrect there,” she confessed.
“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. Why don’t you take one of my mother’s sleeping pills and get a full night of uninterrupted slumber—you’ll be fresh and alert in the morning.”
“Yeah, about the morning…”
“Let’s not talk about that just yet.” He took the stairs up to the second-floor mezzanine and to his wing. He entered his suite and headed straight to the bathroom. He’d texted the butler to draw a bath again, before they’d arrived.
Nikki eyed the tub filled with bubbles and blew out a long, leisurely breath. “That’s exactly what I want and need,” she said.
“Had a feeling.”
The fireplace in the bathroom had a nice blaze in the hearth and several candles glowed in the dimly lit room. Soft music flowed from hidden speakers.
He set her in a plush armchair and slipped off her boots, then helped her out of the rest of her clothing.
Nikki crossed to the tub, encased in grey marble, ascended the short set of steps and settled into the suds, up to her chin.