Mike’s gaze traveled to the table where the two agents played cards and then settled over her shoulder—to where Constantine stood, a flash of discomfort showing on his face; most people wouldn’t notice, but she knew Mike better than she wanted to. Inwardly, she smiled, enjoying his discomfiture.
With a slow slide, Mike returned his attention to Nicole, acting unaffected by Constantine. A lie. He was good at those. “Watched you in court today,” he said. “You looked good.” He winked and glanced at her wrist. “See you still wear the bracelet I gave you for good luck.”
The air crackled with tension. Willpower, pure and simple, was all that kept her from turning and explaining. She wore the bracelet as a reminder of what she never wanted to be again—either as an attorney or as a person. But Constantine would think otherwise. He would think she still cared for Mike—or worse, for her old life.
She swallowed hard, desperate to be rid of Mike and explain to Constantine. “Cut to the chase, Mike. What do you want?”
His lips twisted a bit. “Your father asked me to talk to you.”
Figured. “So talk.”
He glanced over her shoulder again and then back to her. “Can we do this alone?”
She considered declining but decided she’d better hear Mike out. “Fine,” she said, pushing to her feet and heading to the bedroom, her gaze seeking Constantine, who was entering his own room.
Mike followed her into her room and tried to shut the door. She pointed to it. “Oh, no. It stays open.” He grimaced, but left it open.
Nicole crossed her arms and turned to face him. “Now talk.”
He was close, too close, but backing away more would make him feel powerful, as if he had intimidated her. And since he got off on intimidation, that would only drag this out further.
“Your father didn’t send me,” he announced. “I simply thought it past time we talked. You ran off over some outbreak of conscience. I get it that you felt you had to, but it’s time to end this little emotional relay you’re running. Now you’ve gone and put your family in danger.” He took a step toward her and she countered with a step backward.
An evil smile formed on his lips at her actions as he continued, “You’re going to win this case, and it’s a masterpiece of a win. You’ll pay back whatever debt you feel you owe society by putting Alvarez away. It’s done. You can come home again.”
“We’re divorced! And, my God, you must think I am stupid,” she said. “You and Daddy planned this, didn’t you? An effort to put the firm in the spotlight by way of the press I’m getting.”
He moved quickly then, grabbing her before she knew his intentions. “You took the perfect life and threw it in the trash,” he said, pulling her against his body. “I work for your father. I am supposed to be married to you. Have your affairs, have a separate life, but stop tearing apart the core of this family.”
“You and I are not the core of anything!” She shoved at his chest. “Get off me or I swear I will get all three of those agents to make you leave.”
“It’ll only take one.” Nicole looked up at the sound of Constantine’s voice, thick with danger, his attention fixed on Mike, as he added, “You have no idea how badly I want to hurt you right now, so I suggest you let go of her.”
Mike didn’t let go, possessiveness in his rebuttal. “Touch me and I’ll sue.”
“If you live.”
Mike let go. He stepped back as if burned. And Nicole didn’t blame him. Something in Constantine’s words, his presence, oozed downright menace. “Leave,” Constantine said.
Mike headed toward the door. Constantine eased back enough for Mike to pass…barely.
Constantine faced Nicole. “You also have no idea,” he said, his words taut, “how much I hate the idea of that pencil-neck, preppy lowlife touching you. But you know what I hate even more? I hate that you wear his bracelet.”
And then he was gone, leaving her to gape after him. She couldn’t lose Constantine over Mike. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Mike was nothing. Constantine was everything. Constantine was…She loved him. She loved him so very much.
She didn’t think anymore; instead Nicole stormed out of her room—unconcerned about the other agents’ noticing her—with one destination in her sights. Constantine’s bedroom.
Chapter Twenty-One
NICOLE DIDN’T BOTHER to knock before charging into Constantine’s room. She slammed the door shut and leaned against it, hands flat on the wooden surface behind her, her chest heaving with anxiety.
Constantine sat on the bed, face buried in his hands. He looked up at her. “Go away, Nicole. We have nothing to talk about.”
His words cut through her with the sharpness of a blade. “Mike means nothing to me.”
He ran his hand over his thigh. “I don’t want to hear this.” Pain dripped from his words, although he tried to appear cold, as cold as she had been to Mike.