Her Name Is Knight(Nena Knight #1)(79)

“You’re gorgeous,” he said when she was close enough to hear him.

She looked down, trying not to show how pleased she was at his compliment. “You are too.” Then her hand touched her lips. How stupid of her. That wasn’t how women complimented men.

He smiled. “Thank you.”

She felt heat flush her cheeks.

He perked up. “I didn’t know you were into cigars.”

“Come again?”

“Cigars.” Cort fished a plastic baggie out of his inner jacket pocket and handed it to her.

Confused, she held it up with her fingers to take a better look.

“Found it under the coffee table in the den. Please tell me it’s yours, because that’s who Peach said must have dropped it. If it’s not, it means either Mack’s taken up smoking or Peach lied to me and I need to rethink my parenting.” He cracked a wry smile with only the slightest dash of trepidation.

It only took a second for Nena to understand what was going on. “Yes, I must have dropped it. I was trying to find the type of cigars my dad likes, so I had one. Sorry if I caused trouble for you or Georgia.”

When she opened the bag, she recognized the scent immediately, and a rush of anger jolted through her. She hadn’t left a cigar. But she knew who smoked ones that smelled exactly like this one. Clearly the cigar was another message, just like her dad’s sudden illness was a message. But when had Paul dropped this message off?

Recalibrate. She was on a date and needed to focus on it, if only just for the night.

Cort’s eyes widened apprehensively. “No problem at all. Just had to make sure, you know?” He reached out as if he wanted to touch her but thought better of it and returned his hand to his side. “Ready to go in?”

She nodded.

The restaurant was busy but beautiful and the perfect place for them to talk and dine. Gradually, she cleared her mind of other worries, and the conversation flowed easily. Nena answered all his questions about England and her travels.

“Your favorite place to vacation?”

“Bay of Naples,” she said immediately. “And Bukhansan National Park. It’s a forty-five-minute tube ride from Seoul.”

“Korea?”

“Yes.”

“Tube?”

“Subways.”

They shared their entrées, dining on crispy whole fish, palomilla, and chino cubano. They sipped on mojitos while watching the other patrons dance on the floor.

“And your dad’s doing better?”

She nodded, taking a bite of the fish. “He is. Thank you. The seizures have stopped, and they’re monitoring his heart. Good prognosis.”

Cort stood, extending a hand to Nena. She eyed him suspiciously, trying to figure out his plan. Eventually, she gave in, gingerly placing her hand in his and allowing him to pull her to her feet.

He led her through the restaurant to where the music was loudest, where the dance floor writhed with couples dancing to Davido’s “Fall.” He slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her close. She tensed up, then relaxed, allowing him to lead. He began softly singing the lines to the song in her ear.

She pulled back. Cort was full of surprises. And she liked it. He grinned, dropping his head sheepishly. She touched her finger to his chin, pulling him back to face her.

“Don’t stop.”

He moved side to side. She quickly fell in sync with his moves, pleasantly surprised his dancing differed vastly from his grilling techniques. Her body fell in line with his, and soon the music, the heat, the lights, the aromas, fused into a headiness that made Nena feel light headed. Was this what dating was like? Because when she saw the way Cort looked at her, it made her stomach somersault and the area she’d thought long dead come alive.

He lifted her arm above her head, twirling her slowly, and when she had revolved entirely and was facing him again, her eyes connected with his.

The music pounded in her ears. The way he looked at her—she swallowed. Why was he looking at her like that?

She fought rising panic. Her first impulse was to make space between them to stop him from touching her like that. But she found she wanted his touch.

And . . . she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to . . . maybe even more than that.

No, no, she couldn’t. She’d never wanted that, not since they’d snatched her virginity from her, desecrating her. But her feelings were becoming undeniable to her now. She had fallen hard for him, even though it was impossible. He put away people like her. She dispatched people like him.

Her body tensed when he slipped his arm around her waist to slowly pull her in. He stopped when she hesitated, then pulled her the rest of the way when she allowed it. She stepped all the way in. Into his arms.

The dance music switched to Lianne La Havas’s “Don’t Wake Me Up.”

“Love this song,” Nena said softly. She swayed to its beat, surprised she was feeling this comfortable. She let the soulful song, let being with Cort, take her to a place of peace she’d never known could exist for a person like her.

And then she thought, Why not me?





58


BEFORE


I keep going during the rigorous conditioning portion of my initial training, even when my body screams it cannot move another inch. But after a few weeks I must be conditioned enough, because while I’m at the table, lacing up my combat boots, Witt slides a picture of Monsieur into my line of vision. I look at it without saying a word; then my gaze flicks up to his.