AN: I decided to continue :) The hellatus has been driving me insane and writing is slightly easing the pain. LOL anyhow, sequel to Sanity and Seduction, picks up right after the last chapter. Enjoy!
Nikita smiled, reclining back in the spacious airplane seat. Michael was seated next to her, holding onto her hand delicately. Both of their ring fingers glimmered with silver bands. She leaned her head against his shoulder, her hair tickling his cheek.
"God, this is cheesy," she muttered under her breath.
His hold on her hand immediately tightened. "Stay in character," he murmured, brushing her hair with his lips.
After their plane from Italy had landed in the US, Michael and Nikita had been whisked back into Division. Percy and Amanda were waiting in Operations to congratulate the weary and jet-lagged couple.
"Carlos and Michelle are going to be transferred into another op. You two are replacing them." Percy smiled coldly, motioning toward his two favorite agents. He prodded Birkhoff's shoulder who started, then tapped in several codes onto his keyboard. A picture of a smiling blonde woman and a brunette man appeared on the low-hanging screens. They were a picturesque couple. The blonde reminded Nikita of a silver screen starlet and the man as a typical 'Hollywood hunk'.
"Target is Victoria Aston. 22 years old. Her father—Edmund Aston—runs the main drug smuggling ring in England. He supplies the country with most of its cocaine and marijuana. She'll be vacationing with her fiancé Austin Greene. Apparently, Greene is also an alleged partner of daddy's business." Birkhoff read off of his computer screen, fingers tapping against the keyboard.
Nikita frowned. "Why are we targeting her and not her father?"
"Her father is too heavily protected. He's supported by the Mafia and the Red Circle Triads," Percy cut in. "Going after him would be useless. And this is only intel."
Amanda smiled frigidly. "His daughter is his weak spot. She'll be inheriting the Aston drug empire so she's just started to dip her feet into the pool."
Clicking her fingers at Birkhoff, he hurriedly tapped out another string of code, revealing a list of names.
"We only need confirmations. Obviously, her contacts will be in her phone. So you'll have to get close enough to retrieve it. We'll be keeping both of your names to prevent any slip-ups. Michael will be posing as a member of an architectural firm, but Nikita won't need a job," Amanda continued, while handing them two ring boxes. Flipping them open, their wide eyes were met with two sparkling rings. While Michael's band was only simple silver, Nikita's was slathered in diamonds.
"They're real," Amanda smiled, answering Nikita's unspoken question. Grabbing a slim leather box, she handed it to Michael. Inside a Baume & Mercier watch rested on a velvet cushion.
"There's a tracker in there," Birkhoff pointed. "Our systems can't locate the tracker in your body if you're underground or underwater. That baby works up to 20 miles below the biosphere."
Michael nodded, snapping it onto his wrist. Even after Nikita's vehement protests, Amanda still rolled out an enormous suitcase chock full of custom-selected clothing. After another hour, Nikita and Michael found themselves on another plane, this time setting out for Hawaii's Big Island. Before boarding, Michael had pulled Nikita aside.
He was visually uncomfortable and kept tugging at the collar of his white T-shirt.
"What?" Nikita demanded, confused. She had never seen Michael look so incredibly embarrassed and tongue-tied.
"We have to stay in character the entire trip."
She frowned. "I know, Amanda already said that."
He shook his head. "No, the entire time. This is an important op and there's a chance that the room could be bugged. And that people could be watching."
Her eyes widened and she finally understood. "Oh."
He nodded slowly, eyes never leaving hers. "So anyone watching will be looking for signs of Division agents. So you have to practice, okay? I'll go first."
Abruptly, his expression melted into one of such sappy love that Nikita thought she would have puked if it had been on anyone's face except for his. She burst into a fit of giggles, leaning over to brace her hands against her knees.
"Wow, you're good," she chortled.
He rolled his eyes. "Apparently, you don't listen to a thing I say. Stay in character."
"Okay, okay," she amended. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pecked him on the cheek. "Sorry, honey."
He wound his arm around her waist and guided them back into the terminal. Settling into their seats, she kept her hand in his as they waited for their flight. Frowning sadly, she stared out the window, watching the jets take off. As far as she was concerned, her 'character' wasn't too far from her true self.
Michael glanced down at his newlywed wife. Her lips were slightly turned down and a pucker had appeared between her eyebrows. He quickly stopped himself from lifting his hand to her cheek before remembering that he didn't have to control his feelings. Smoothing out the crease in her forehead, he pressed his cheek against her hair, breathing in the orange blossom scent.
"Something wrong, hun?"
Nikita gazed at him, a grin pulling at her lips. "Nothing. I'm just glad that I finally got my workaholic husband to go on his own honeymoon."
He chuckled softly. "Anything for you."
She flushed pink and dropped her head, allowing a drape of hair to fall between them. "This is weird," she whispered.
"Stop complaining," he breathed into her hair, the 'Michael' reappearing. "Just do your best."
Raising her eyebrows, she threw him a calculated look. "My best?" she challenged.
"Bring it on."
She slowly leaned forward, glancing at him from under her eyelashes. They both simultaneously reached for the other, once again cresting the invisible barrier that usually existed at Division. Their lips inched closer and closer until—
"All first class passengers of Flight 891 please prepare your boarding pass and report to flight entrance 6A." A nasally voice squawked over the intercom and Michael gritted his teeth in frustration. What was it with airport people and them ruining intimate moments?
He shouldered his carry on, before offering his hand to Nikita, who gracefully accepted it, rising to her feet.
They quickly found their seats and Michael began to stow his bag into the overhead compartment. Nikita handed him her Hermes tote that Amanda had supplied her with, a mere prop in her role as a well-privileged socialite. Tucking it in with his bag, he shut the compartment and smoothly seated himself next to her.
"Thank you," she smiled, leaning forward.
He glanced at her quickly and saw the clear meaning written there. Gradually, they gravitated toward each other again until a bright voice popped up from behind them.
"Hello, I'm Ryan, your captain; it's a pleasure to be flying with you today!"
They both turned to see a beaming man in his late thirties grinning at them from the aisle. On the other side of the plane, they could see Ryan's co-pilot greeting other passengers similarly. Michael snarled low under his breath.
"It's nice to meet you," Nikita said, her icy tone a clear sign of dismissal.
"Yes, very nice," Michael piped up.
"Nice to meet you, too," the captain tipped his head, clearly understanding their message. He ambled on, speaking to the next set of unfortunate travelers.
Nikita sighed, toying with the ring on her finger. Another moment ruined.
Michael once again detected the downturn of her lips. Screw it, he thought. Leaning forward, his hand reached for her cheek and he turned her head towards him. Her eyes were wide and surprise was written plainly in them. He pressed his lips softly to hers for a millisecond, before pulling away quickly.
"Just to clear the air," he murmured, taking her hand in his again, fervently hoping that she didn't notice how damp they were.
"Mmm," she mumbled. Her head was foggy and blood was boiling in her lips. She shook her head groggily, before she resigned herself to a dreadfully confusing two weeks.