AN: Please read and review, hope you enjoy! :)
Michael glanced at his watch, staring at the ticking second hand. "Nik, it's been ten minutes already. Hurry up; we're going to be late."
"Okay, okay I'm coming," she called back, a touch of irritation in her voice. She marched into the living room and leaned against the doorframe. Michael's eyes roved over his partner's perfection. Her little black dress dipped into a sweetheart neckline, accentuating the sparkling gemstones clustered at her throat. She twirled slowly, then ambled toward him. He tugged at his maroon tie, his breath still stuck in his throat.
"Good enough to be a Lawson?" she asked, smiling broadly.
"Absolutely."
Her hands ghosted up to his collar and she unknotted his tie. He caught the silk just as it left his neck. "What?"
"The color is awful," she responded, leaning down and fumbling through his suitcase. Spotting a flash of scarlet, she yanked it out, throwing it over Michael's shoulder. Her eyes widened when she saw the familiar tie, realizing that the last time her hands had been on it was back in Italy. He watched the flush creep onto her skin, staining her cheeks pink. Hurriedly shrugging off her flustered nerves, she expertly looped the tie around Michael's neck.
"Perfect." She declared, patting him smartly on the shoulder.
"As are you." The words fell out of his mouth and he snapped it shut, wondering how she would react.
"Thanks honey," she shot him a grin, gliding away towards the door. Extending her open hand, she allowed a smirk to creep up onto her face. "Come on, I want to meet your new friend."
They ventured out onto the hotel grounds, following the swell of other diners. Torches had been set up and the tables surrounded an earthen stage. The entire setting was furnished with tiki materials and every surface was dripping in orchids. Michael spotted Victoria and raised a hand in greeting. Approaching the table, he smiled at her, before letting an arm snake around Nikita's waist, drawing her body towards his.
"This is my wife, Nikita."
Victoria raised her eyebrows coolly, taking in Nikita and Michael's intimate stance. "What a…unique name. It's a pleasure to meet you." It obviously wasn't.
Turning away from Nikita, she motioned towards her fiancé. "This is Austin. We're getting married in a month." He nodded mutely, eyes glued to the table. "Come, sit down." She grabbed Michael's arm, pulling it into the seat next to her. Thankfully, the table was square; allowing Nikita to sit on Michael's other side. He kept his hand in hers and shot her a knowing glance before he was yanked into a conversation with Victoria. Turning her attention away from the icy Barbie, Nikita directed her concentration toward Austin.
"So, how long have you and Victoria been together?" she asked, plucking up some small talk.
His brown eyes drifted towards her and he offered her a wan smile. "Practically our whole lives." He started when Victoria's hand clamped onto his arm, her manicured nails digging into his wrist.
"It's a long story," she said, with all the sweetness of a poisoned apple. She glared at Austin and his eyes left Nikita's and focused on the napkin he was twisting nervously in his hands. "One that we won't be able to tell in just one night." She released Austin's arm and turned back towards Michael. Nikita spotted scarlet half-moons in Austin's skin before he hastily covered it with his hand. She heard him mutter faintly under his breath. "Thank God there's an open bar."
Laughing lightly, she patted him on the hand. "We're going to have lots of fun together."
"C'mon people, get down on the dance floor!" Their deejay roared into the microphone, motioning giggling couples down.
"Michael," said Victoria, smiling at him. "Would you care for a dance?"
Immediately Nikita's temper flared hotly and she had to exercise every speck of self-control that Amanda had gifted her with not to take her fork and shove it up Miss Prissy's plastic-surgeoned nose. Michael's hand squeezed hers reassuringly, momentarily reducing her spark of hatred.
"I'd love to," he answered, before focusing his gaze on Nikita, nudging her foot with his. "If that's okay with you, honey. And with Austin."
"Austin is fine with it," Victoria said as Austin opened his mouth. Shutting it, he leaned back in his seat, expression blank. Refocusing her attention back on Michael, Victoria shot Nikita a beady glare. "So? What'll it be?"
"You two have fun," she said tightly, before standing up, smoothing out her dress. "I'm going to get a drink at the bar. Maybe Austin can come with me."
Austin glanced at Victoria—as though he was asking for permission—before realizing that she wasn't paying him any attention. Sighing softly, he stood following Nikita as she marched away from their table, the nails of her clenched fists burying themselves into her flesh. She wanted to yank the blonde Barbie's hair out of her head. She made her way towards the bar and plopped down, Austin seating himself beside her.
"Enjoying the party so far?" she asked sarcastically.
He snorted. "As long as Victoria is enjoying it, then it doesn't matter if I am."
"Geez, Austin, grow a spine. You are going to marry her and she is going to be your wife."
Laughing bitterly, he ordered a scotch from the bartender. "Hardly. It isn't me that's marrying her."
"What do you mean?" she asked innocently, subtly nudging the conversation toward the forbidden subject. Resting her elbows on the bar, she turned her head toward him, focusing all attention onto him.
"Victoria's father owns this huge…corporation," he began. "My dad is second in command to the business."
Nikita snickered. "Wow. This sounds like the beginning of an arranged marriage."
Austin nodded sadly. "That's basically it. When Victoria and I were born within a year of each other, it was a match made in heaven." His tone turned sour and he grabbed his drink, swiftly downing it and ordering another.
After the bartender set another glass in front of him, he continued. "She's the heir to the company and I'll always be second. We were never really fond of each other and she's been lording her power over me ever since we got engaged."
"If she doesn't love you, why on earth would she agree to marry you?"
He took a swig from the glass. "It's always been a family company; it's even part of their motto. Anyway, Victoria's too loyal to it. And to her father. She's the biggest Daddy's girl on the planet."
"Then what about you? Are you a momma's boy?"
He choked out another harsh laugh. "I never met my mum. She left my dad after she gave birth to me."
Nikita's attitude turned sympathetic. Taking his arm, she patted it gently. "C'mon, let's get really drunk."
Behind their backs, Michael and Victoria twirled blissfully, their eyes locked onto each other.
Nikita flung open the door to their suite, barreling into the living room. "Michaeeeeeeel!" she practically sang, twirling herself into the room.
He dashed into the room, eyes wide, taking in Nikita's mad dance around the space. He grabbed her wrists and guided her to the couch, sitting her down. "Okay, okay. Calm down. Did you get the names of the restaurants that we wanted?" he asked, using the uncreative 'code' he had invented to speak with her about the op.
She smiled widely, her lopsided grin ballooning her cheeks. "Totally, I have everything here." Beaming, she tried to toss him her phone, but it slipped out of her grasp and bounced onto a sofa cushion. She giggled as she watched Michael smoothly snatch it up.
His eyes narrowed as the stench of alcohol reached his nose. "Nikki, you've been drinking," he accused.
"I drank and you danced," she drawled. "We both had fun, so all's fair."
She stood up, teetering precariously. Michael grabbed her around the waist, before flinging her over his shoulder and carrying her into the bathroom. "I wonder how you even found our room in that state."
Wetting a towel with cold water, he tenderly applied it to her forehead, wiping away the perspiration that had gathered there. Gathering her in one arm, he turned the faucet on with the other, filling the tub with warm water. Swiftly stripping her of her dress, he eased her into the tub. She protested, splashing him with drops.
"I don't need a bath," she objected childishly, her lips curving into a pout.
Ignoring her complaints, he grabbed a bar of soap and proceeded to scrub her down. "You're quite cute when you're drunk. And stubborn."
"I know," she giggled hysterically, leaning against his arms.
After washing the alcohol stink out of her skin, Michael pulled a still drunk Nikita into the bedroom. He bundled her into one of his T-shirts, not wishing to subject himself to the torture of dressing her in one of the skimpy outfits that Amanda had chosen.
Plopping her on the bed, he secured her flailing limbs under the blankets. Quickly sliding in on her other side, he pulled her towards him, locking her appendages against his body.
"I'm not tired," she said stubbornly, squirming in his grasp.
"I don't care," he replied, smiling into her hair.
"My hair's wet, I'll catch a cold and die."
His brow wrinkled. "Your hair's not wet; I tied it up for you. And even if you did get sick, I'd be more concerned over alcohol poisoning than a cold."
Snuggling against his chest, Nikita's fingers wrapped around her necklace before her breath evened out and she was sound asleep. He pressed a kiss to her temple—smiling at the fact that her hand was still curled around the rubies—before also falling asleep.