Mira stirred awake, the gentle strains of classical music filling the room.
Blinking her eyes open, she found herself in an unfamiliar king-sized bed. The events of the previous night rushed back to her, and she was surprised to find herself alone in the bed.
Propping herself up on her forearms, she took a moment to take in the expansive penthouse suite she was in.
The majority of the walls were towering glass windows, offering a clear view of the Las Vegas skyline, bathed in the soft gold of dawn.
Scattered around the room were clothes—hers and Nicholai’s.
A plush, white hotel robe was laid out next to her on the bed. She reached for it, slipping it on before setting out to find Nicholai.
After a bit of searching, she found him swimming laps in a long, rectangular pool on the balcony.
She settled into a lounge chair next to a table bearing a large breakfast tray and poured herself a cup of coffee. She watched him glide through the water, every stroke of his arms and kick of his feet.
He must have sensed her gaze, because he stopped his laps and swam over to the edge of the pool where she sat, sipping her coffee.
He shook out his hair and ran his hands through the dark strands, pushing them back from his face. His chiseled jaw and high cheekbones were striking.
Had she failed to notice before that his nose was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken in his youth and then hastily set back into place?
“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice rough and stirring memories of the sultry whispers from the night before.
“Morning,” she replied automatically, offering him the other cup of coffee from the tray.
He accepted it, taking a large gulp while keeping his gaze fixed on her. Always observing her, as if he were trying to decipher her.
“When are you coming back to work?” Mira ventured, hoping to steer the conversation toward safer territory.
He set the empty cup on the ledge and floated to the center of the pool on his back.
“You’re worried about your job?” he asked, a hint of mockery in his voice. “Afraid I’ll fire you?”
Rather than feeling embarrassed, Mira felt her temper flare.
“Why do you keep trying to provoke me?” she demanded, her voice rising. “You said you forgave me for what happened. Can’t we just move on?”
“So you just want my forgiveness then?”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand his question.
“No. It isn’t.”
He swam back to her, resting his arms on the ledge.
“What do you want, Mira?”
“I want to be with you,” she confessed, laying her feelings bare. “I love you, Nicholai.”
His face remained impassive, causing Mira’s heart to skip a beat.
Did he not feel the same way?
“Look, I understand if you don’t feel the same—”
“It’s not that,” he interrupted her.
She looked at him questioningly.
“You don’t know me, Mira,” he stated bluntly. “You haven’t really tried to, and looking me up on the internet doesn’t count.”
“That’s not true,” she protested softly. “I know everything I need to know.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
He hoisted himself out of the pool, placing his hands on either side of her hips on the lounge chair, his body forming a cage around her and sprinkling her skin with water droplets.
“Prove it then. Marry me.”
Mira did a double take, certain that her mouth had dropped open.
“You can’t be serious…”
He gave her a cynical smile.
“Oh, I’m very serious,” he declared. “You think you love me. That you know who I am, Mira. Then marry me. We’re already here in Vegas. We can do it today.”
He was serious!
Mira pushed him away and stood up to pace. This was not what she’d been expecting when she decided to bare her soul to him.
“Nicholai, this isn’t necessary,” she tried again. “We can try dating—”
“I’m tired of dating,” he interrupted her again. “I’m ready to settle down, and I want you, Mira.”
He walked over to her and gripped her shoulders.
“If you really want me too, you’ll marry me,” he said, cupping her cheeks in his hands. “Marry me, Mira, and you and Jahan will never have to worry about anything for the rest of your lives.”
The money she had already received from him ensured that, but the desperation in his voice was affecting her. He seemed so alone, and that resonated with her in a way nothing else could.
Could she take the leap and jump in blindly? With Nicholai Bach, she knew that she could. She’d seen so many sides of him, and while she knew they’d definitely clash on many things, they could also make a difference in the world together—as a team.
Besides, marrying one of the world’s richest, most attractive bachelors? What did she really have to lose?
“Yes.”
His eyes widened, as if he hadn’t expected her to accept.
“What did you say?”
She wrapped her fingers around his neck and smiled against his lips.
“Yes, Nicholai Bach. I’ll marry you.”
