Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
My hands were sweating and my heart was racing. I wished that I’d remembered today was the Nico D-day, if only so I could have worn something nicer. My pencil skirt and silk blouse were nice enough for the halls of HAUTESCENE, but nothing special where my figure was concerned. To make matters worse, when I went to the bathroom to check my hair, I saw that a large pimple was starting to form on the middle of my chin.
Of course, Nico breezed in five minutes late, looking fabulous in a navy tailored suit. He nodded at me, then gave me a wicked grin that set my heart on fire.
I hated it – as soon as I was in front of him, all of my bravado vanished and I felt like an awkward little kid. For all of the thinking I’d done about how bad he was, his smile made my heart melt and my brain forget all about his crazy, weird family.
He looked straight out of a fashion spread ... which, of course, was the point.
“Hi, Harper,” Nico said, as if we were old friends. “So, are you going to be interviewing me?”
I nodded. “Yes,” I said. “Right this way, please.”
Nico looked at me expectantly, then held out his hand for me to shake. I stared at him in disbelief as I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. A tense silence hung in the air and I bit my lip as I reached out and took his hand. His grip was firm and smooth and as soon as my skin touched his, I felt a hot spark of arousal in my lower belly.
He held my hand for a moment longer than professionally acceptable, but that was it – just a tiny moment. No one watching would have caught it. No one watching would have caught the look in Nico’s eyes, the hungry stare, the desire that was so overwhelmingly obvious to me.
“Right this way,” I repeated, feeling stupid as I began leading Nico down the hall to the conference room. He looked around the room and raised an eyebrow when his gaze landed on the food I’d put out not an hour before.
“Snacks?” Nico asked, turning to me and smirking. “You trying to impress me now, Harper?”
My cheeks burned as I took a bottle of mineral water and sat down at the table. Seconds later, the door swung open and Nell, followed by her other assistant, Tricia, walked inside. As soon as Tricia saw Nico, she flushed hotly and licked her lips.
I hated to admit it, but watching her drool over him made me so jealous that I felt like spitting.
“Nico Ulrich,” Nico said, rising from his seat to shake Nell’s hand. Then, to my consternation, he went over to her and actually pulled her chair out so she could sit, like she was about to dine at a Michelin-starred restaurant.
“Thank you,” Nell said. She gave Nico the kind of smile that she’d never given me. “I hope Harper made you feel welcome. We’re so happy that you’re able to take the time to speak with us – to be honest, I’m so excited about doing this feature on you!”
“We both are,” Tricia chimed in enthusiastically, and I felt the tops of my ears burn.
“Of course,” I echoed. Nell shot me a quick look, then turned her adoring gaze back to Nico.
“Harper has compiled a list of questions to ask,” Nell said. “Harper, would you like to begin?”
“Sure.” I looked down at the paper, grateful to have an excuse to tear my eyes away from Nico’s hot stare, and cleared my throat. “Who were your role models when you were growing up?”
Out loud, it sounded so stupid – the kind of thing an elementary schooler would ask a grown-up as a part of some kiddy journalism assignment. But to my relief, Nico smiled, showing off his mouth full of brilliantly white teeth.
“I grew up in Saint Petersburg,” Nico began. “But when I was a boy, it was still Leningrad.” He paused, as if thinking. “And it may sound trite – and perhaps even anti-American, but my heroes were the Soviet men I learned about in school. They were strong and magnificent, real bulls of men, and as children, we were all taught to emulate them.”
I stared at him. It was such a smart, revealing answer – and I couldn’t believe that I’d actually forgotten about the spread of communism that didn’t end until the early nineties. Nico didn’t seem very old to me, but I had to remember that by now, he was thirty-seven or thirty-eight.
“That’s very interesting,” I said, before I could stop myself.
Nico chuckled. “My parents were dignitaries. They’re retired now, of course, but they still like to act as if they’re in charge of everything. We lived in a beautiful apartment with scarlet red carpet, two inches thick.” He paused and shook his head. “When I close my eyes, I can still remember how it felt to walk around in bare feet, feeling that carpet under my feet. We even had a dacha, in the country. It was given to my father after thirty years of service to his country, and we went all the time in the summers when I was a child.”