Rising Tiger: A Thriller (60)

“Good point,” Nina replied. “Let’s hope we don’t need it.”

“Speaking of needing things,” said Nicholas, changing the subject, “what are you and the baby in the mood for tonight for dinner?”

“Will you make your special risotto for us?”

“With the poached egg?”

Nina nodded her beautiful head of jet-black hair and fluttered the lashes of her incredibly green eyes.

How could he say no? He was so deeply in love with her. Out of all the men in the world that she could have had, she had chosen him. He would have done anything for her. Anything at all.

Leaving her in the master, he headed downstairs, dogs in tow, to begin cooking dinner. Though he had offered to fix some food for the security detail protecting them, they had politely declined, sending one of their backup guys into town for takeout sushi.

Picking up his tablet, he returned to his playlist of favorite arias and pushed PLAY. As he gathered the spinach, leeks, fava beans, and chanterelle mushrooms that were the stars of his signature risotto, “Habanera,” from Bizet’s opera Carmen, began to play from the overhead speakers. It was one of the most beloved arias in the classical canon and one of his all-time favorites.

After getting the food going, he opened an exquisite white burgundy—a Domaine Leflaive Montrachet Grand Cru. He poured himself a glass and spent several moments breathing in the wine’s aroma.

Then he took a taste. It was amazing. Buttery and complex. Worth every precious penny. Putting the glass down, he transitioned to preparing an accompaniment to the main course.

During her pregnancy, Nina’s cravings for frozen French baguettes, which could be popped into the oven and served with slabs of salty, sunshine-yellow Irish butter, had gone through the roof.

Setting the oven to the right temperature, he pulled one from the freezer and set it on the counter.

The final notes of “Habanera” played and as they did, Nicholas had a pep in his step as he anticipated the next aria.

“Toreador Song,” also from Carmen, was one of the most uplifting and energetic opera songs he had ever heard. No matter how good his mood, it could always be made better by this brilliant piece of music.

By the time the “Anvil Chorus” from Verdi’s Il Trovatore came on, the risotto had been plated, poached eggs atop, and the bread had been pulled hot from the oven and wrapped in a linen towel.

As Nina was, rightly, abstaining from alcohol until after the baby was born, Nicholas downed the wine left in his glass, put the cork back in the bottle, and returned it to the fridge.

He took a moment and indulged in a deep breath. The kitchen smelled amazing. There was something about its design that seemed to concentrate all of the flavors of his cooking right over the island where he was working.

He loved this house. It really was the best home he had ever owned. And it was made that way because of Nina’s presence. Everything would only get better once the baby arrived. Nicholas, truly, had never been happier.

Filling a pitcher with ice water, he placed everything on a room service–style cart, covered it with a crisp white tablecloth, and rolled it toward the elevator.

Knowing he would want an after-dinner drink and that Nina wouldn’t begrudge him one, he paused at his liquor cabinet. In the mini fridge, he found exactly what he was looking for—a 1975 Chateau d’Yquem Sauternes.

Drinking the sweet French wine from Bordeaux was like consuming liquid gold, right down to the price tag. But, as far as Nicholas was concerned, price didn’t matter. Life was too short to not drink fabulous wine.

He carefully uncorked the bottle and poured a dram of the beautiful nectar into a more than two-hundred-year-old Baccarat crystal glass recovered from a Russian shipwreck in the Black Sea and sold to him at auction.

It was all incredibly extravagant, but it was something that he felt he deserved. He owed this to himself. He had worked so hard, had come so far. If the parents who had abandoned him could only see him now—living in a castle, a beautiful pregnant wife upstairs, sipping wines worth thousands of dollars and drinking them from glasses that once belonged to royalty—wouldn’t they be surprised? Shocked even. Though they had cast him out, their little boy had done well. In fact, he had done more than well. Despite everything being stacked against him, he had triumphed.

But that kind of recognition, that closure was never going to happen. His parents, he had discovered, were long since dead. He had no siblings, nor other living relatives. He was alone in the world, or at least he would have been had Nina not come along.

He tucked the bottle of Sauternes back into the fridge, set the glass on the cart, and signaled for the dogs to walk with him.

He entered the elevator, the doors closed, and the carriage was beginning to rise, when he felt the same, painful symptoms he had the night before. The damn weapon could penetrate the stone.

As his knees began to go weak, his dogs started howling. Upstairs, Nina had to have been feeling it as well.

He pulled out his phone and swiped to the app he had built, which was connected to the antipersonnel devices he had hidden throughout the woods. Placing his thumb atop the biometric scanner, he detonated everything.

The sound from the explosions reverberated across the estate. Tremors shook the elevator. Then it was quiet. Even the dogs had stopped howling.

His plan had worked. He had stopped the attack.

That was when he heard the most horrific sound in the world.