Nicoli: A Forbidden Romance (Dark Sovereign Book 4)
Nicoli: Chapter 5

My fists clench as I stalk toward the kitchen. “I’m so sick of his shit,” I grumble. Who the hell does he think he is? A condescending asshole, that’s who.

Half the time, he doesn’t even notice me. But when he does, he acts like he has the inherent right to tell me what I can and cannot do. His arrogance is astounding. Maddening. Always speaking to me as if I’m incapable of making my own damn decisions. God, Nicoli infuriates me. I’m ready to jump out of my skin and tear through his smug sense of superiority.

“Fuck!” I stop and place a palm on my forehead, certain my chest is about to explode. Nicoli has the natural talent to piss me off, and it’s exhausting trying to constantly brush it off.

Closing my eyes in a moment of peaceful respite, I take a deep breath and lean back against the wall. “Ouch!” I wince, something sharp pressing against my back. I try to jerk away and find my dress caught on whatever is protruding from the wall and trying to drill through my spine.

Alexius. New art. Hooks. My designer dress getting torn to shreds.

“Fuck. Really?” I glance up at the roof, directing my sarcasm to a higher power. “Are you serious?”

I try to reach behind my back and untangle the fabric stuck on what feels like a nail, but I can’t lean away from the wall far enough to get my arm in there without risking tearing my dress. “Oh, come on,” I exclaim, stomping my foot as frustration boils in my bones.

Footsteps with an unrelenting pace echo from around the corner, and relief floods me. “Thank God. I need some help over here,” I call just as Nicoli appears and comes to a screeching halt, his blue eyes wide with confusion.

This is where I’m confident the universe has a hard-on for me.

Nicoli lifts a brow. “What are you doing?”

“I’m testing these hooks to see if they’ll carry the weight of Alexius’ priceless yet heavy paintings.” Sarcasm is oozing out of my pores, and I blow a strand of blonde hair out of my face.

Nicoli shrugs and starts walking past. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Nicoli, I need help.” The words taste bitter as it burns my dignity to ash. “I’m stuck and can’t move without tearing a hole in my dress.”

“You’re stuck?” he asks in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Do I want to ask?”

“No. Now, can you reach behind me and unhook me?”

Nicoli hesitates, glancing up and down the hall as if he’s waiting for help to come from either direction.

“Nicoli,” I snap.

“Tear a hole in your damn dress, then.”

“No,” I moan. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Then buy yourself a new one.”

“Nicoli, for God’s sake. Just reach between my back and the wall and unhook me. It’s not rocket science.”

He’s pulling his palm down his face, his expression that of someone who was just asked to shove cocaine up his ass and smuggle it into North Korea.

“Nicoli!”

“Okay. God. Relax, woman.”

Woman. He called me woman. And why do I find it hot as fuck?

My skin warms, and I know I’m flushed all the way from my neck to my cheeks as he moves up close, trying to see what kind of mess I managed to hang myself up on.

I try not to look at him, and while I’m desperate to control my eye movement, which is very fucking involuntary right now, I’m also hyperaware of him robbing every ounce of oxygen in a six-foot radius around us. And I’m pretty sure he grew taller in the last five seconds because he’s towering over me, heat emanating from him in waves.

My mouth goes dry, my flesh covered in goosebumps all because he’s so. Damn. Close.

Time has been paused. I’m sure of it. And sound is muted. Everything around us fades away the longer we stay within a few breaths’ distance from one another.

If this were a movie, this would be the part where the girl makes a complete ass of herself in front of a boy she’s had a crush on for years, because her brain just turned to mush.

I shift from one leg to the other.

“You need to stand still.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

I roll my eyes. “Do you have to be a dick?”

“Do you have to be a damsel in distress daily?”

“Excuse me?” I gape. “Daily? And I’m not a damsel in distress.”

He snorts. “Yet you’re the one hanging from the wall.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“It was an ac-ci-dent,” I enunciate, spitting out every syllable.

“Next time you feel like becoming a permanent fixture in this house, don’t wear your favorite dress.”

I narrow my eyes with a glare. “Just unhook me.”

Nicoli inches closer and places a palm on my shoulder. It’s a simple touch, but it moves through me like flames through grass on the hottest day of the year. The annoyance I felt one second ago…gone.

My stomach twists into a thousand fiery knots, and my mind is incapable of telling my lungs to breathe. If a single touch from him has this effect on me, what would it feel like to be in his arms? To be kissed by him? To have his naked body against mine?

His hand is warm, his fingers gently brushing my skin—a sensation that somehow moves down my spine and pools between my thighs. And his scent makes everything worse because I love it. I love the earthy smell that always clings to him. Warm notes of amber-wood and pepper are amplified with hints of smoke and leather—a heady combination that’s addictive.

Nicoli’s hand is at my back, moving gently along the fabric of my dress, demonstrating expert finesse with a simple hook that I clearly cannot maneuver my dress away from without massive amounts of help.

His breath ghosts across the side of my neck, sending a subtle shudder through me, and I can’t help turning my face toward him, leaning closer. I’m lost. Transfixed in a moment that’s alive with anticipation.

I’m overwhelmed with a desire I have no right feeling, powerless as I look up, letting out a gentle gasp as our eyes meet. He’s so close, his face inches from mine, lips parted slightly, and I’m aching for him to close the gap. His gaze is so intense, conveying an unspoken need that completely consumes me, and I can’t help but feel like he’s looking right into my soul.

His hand stills behind my back, and I’m aware of every rise and fall of his chest, this magnetic pull between us making it impossible for me to move. The way he looks at me with such heated intensity sends my mind into an incoherent whirl, making any sensible thought impossible. This beautiful tension between us feels unbearable yet so deeply desired all at once.

“Mirabella,” he whispers, and the sound of my name on his lips is a powerful spell that wraps me up and keeps me captive.

I don’t want him to talk. I don’t want him to breathe. I just want him to kiss me.

He licks his lips, and my gaze drops to the movement, stirring a hunger that threatens to expose every fantasy I’ve ever had of him. Oxygen no longer reaches my lungs. Gravity no longer keeps me grounded. My mind has my body convinced he’s going to kiss me, and I’m helpless to resist.

As he lowers his face, dark strands of his hair brush along my temples. “I can’t…” There’s a tug at my back, and I close my eyes. “Got it,” he says, his voice low and dark.

I can’t move while he lingers for a few more breaths before taking a step back. “Be more careful next time, okay?”

Just like that, the spell is broken, and he’s walking away from me, leaving me a mess against the wall, wondering what the fuck just happened.

“Oh, my God,” I breathe, my body numb as if every drop of blood has been drained from my veins.

Did we…did something just…I’m not sure.

Did I imagine the last thirty seconds? Conjure it up with the part of my brain that seems to thrive on my attraction for Nicoli? Or…was it real? The connection that just blew up the Richter scale?

“You okay?”

I yelp at Leandra, who appears out of fucking nowhere. “Goddammit. If you woke up this morning intending to give me a heart attack today, you almost succeeded.”

Her amber-brown eyes narrow as she studies me. “Why are you so…flustered?”

“I, um…” I look and point at the hook in the wall, frown, and glance down at the floor. “I just…” Nope. No. I can’t do it. I can’t form a coherent thought, meaning I have zero chance of responding.

“Mira? Are you okay?” She touches my forehead with the back of her hand. “You need to sit down for a bit?”

“No,” I finally manage to say. “But I do need a drink.”

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