Mischief: A Halloween Novella by Reisz Tiffany

Author:Reisz, Tiffany [Reisz, Tiffany]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Adult
Amazon: B09178V24L
Goodreads: 57815188
Publisher: 8th Circle Press
Published: 2017-09-26T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

The Highbury was an historic hotel with marble floors, red and gold Oriental rugs scattered here, there, and everywhere. Tarnished brass chandeliers cast low broken light over the partygoers. Nico fetched drinks from the bar—a beer for Justine, red wine for himself, a bourbon sour for Nora—and they all sat in a quiet-ish corner of the main lobby by the grand fireplace. Nico snagged a large armchair and Nora sat on his knee. Justine sat on the end of a long red sofa with her legs crossed, the tip of her red high heel occasionally brushing Nora’s leg, occasionally brushing Nico’s.

Nora gave Justine the short version of the long version of how she met Nico. Justine listened in astonished silence, her pretty red lips parted as she looked from Nora to Nico and back to Nora again.

“Well?” Nora asked.

“So...you used to work for his biological father as a dominatrix in New York. Then someone told you there was a guy in France who was probably his son that he didn’t know about, and you went and found him?”

“Right,” Nora said. “Confused?”

“Skeptical,” Justine said, her eyes narrowed. “Are you shitting me?”

Nora shook her head.

“It is Halloween,” Justine reminded her. “People pull tricks on each other. Hence the phrase...trick or treat? I think we’re all familiar with that saying?”

“Vaguely,” Nora said. Nico merely laughed. “But it’s all true. I’ve known Nico’s biological father since I was sixteen. He helped keep me out of juvie.”

“And this is how you repay him? By boinking his son?”

“It’s my fault it happened,” Nico said to Justine before Nora could answer. “She did nothing wrong.”

Ah, Nico. This is why Nora loved him. Not once had Nico allowed anyone to blame her for their unorthodox relationship. His honor—and male pride—wouldn’t allow it. Nora remembered when Kingsley had come to Nico’s house looking for her right after they’d started seeing each other. Nico had bodily inserted himself between her and his father. You don’t talk to her, you talk to me. You don’t blame her, you blame me. You don’t fight with her, you fight with me, Nico said once, then twice, easily a hundred times, in English and in French, softly and loudly and right in Kingsley’s face.

When Kingsley attempted to push past Nico to speak to Nora, the two men had almost come to blows. Nora had tried to make peace. She got two words out—Nico, please—before Nico had shushed her with a hiss and a slash of his hand (a gesture which Nora found equal parts chauvinistic and sexy). Go upstairs, Nico had ordered her. This is between me and my father.

Later Kingsley would tell her that was the first moment he’d had hope for him and Nico—when Nico, even in his fury, had called Kingsley his father.

“So you’re saying it’s true?” Justine asked Nora. “It’s all Nico’s fault?”

“Let’s say…if he hadn’t followed me across two countries, this—us—wouldn’t have happened. Since the moment we met, I had this feeling—dread, specifically—that it was inevitable, but I never would have made the first move.

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