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Chapter eight

Crème de la Crème

When he thought about it, the skirmishes he'd been in back when hunting Elliott were kind of—sort of, vaguely —like dates.

Niko would spend the day preparing and getting ready to go out to meet him.

He would wait with anticipation for those few moments when he finally encountered him.

Then they'd have a thrilling bit of physical exertion, and Niko would go home utterly mangled and exhausted.

Totally a date.

He heard the sound of Elliott’s footsteps approaching, the telltale weight of his steps and quiet whisper of his boots against the polished wood floor.

Damn. He’d hoped to be completely done before the other man had returned, but that he’d managed to get this much cooking accomplished at all before he had was a feat unto itself. Niko figured he could accept that.

“It’s all clear,” Elliott said. Niko glanced over his shoulder just in time to see him appear as he deactivated his stealth, Repartee held across his waist. He paused, staring at Niko in bewilderment, then took a visible sniff of the air.

Then he looked at the lit candles on the table. “What’s this? What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you out to dinner,” Niko said. He finished up the crema with a pinch of sea salt.

“You’re— I’m sorry, what?”

“We’re having a candlelit dinner by the sea. I’m taking you on a date, Elliott.”

Elliott blinked. He glanced around again, seeming completely displaced. “ Here? I—”

“Why not?” Niko asked, plating the tilapia.

Steam rose from the sizzling, golden fish.

He topped it with the crema and a sprinkle of blushing chili powder.

He eyed the plates, satisfied; they looked like they could have come from a restaurant.

“You just checked the perimeter, and it’s all clear, right?

I looked around, too. And nobody knows we’re here yet.

They won’t for a while. That’s part of the beauty of striking unexpectedly and out of order like this.

So, I’m taking you on a date. On Eanan.”

He brought the plates over and set them on the table across from each other, then moved back to the bottle of vintage champagne he’d found. “Knife.”

Elliott blinked at him again.

Niko held out his hand. “Elliott. Knife.”

Elliott unsheathed the lucky knife and handed it over.

Niko struck the neck of the bottle, slicing it and the cork clean off.

It foamed all over the kitchen, but he didn’t give a shit.

He poured two crystal flutes brimming full, then brought them to the table too.

The flames of the candles danced in their reflections.

He handed the knife back. “Come on. Have a seat.” Behind the table was an entire wall of glass doors that looked out over the brilliant, teal ocean. Niko went over to them and pushed them open as wide as they’d go, the sounds of waves filling the room now. He could smell the salt of the sea.

Elliott sank into one of the chairs, seeming bewildered and cautious still. Niko figured he needed a little more convincing. “Look, this asshole was rich as fuck, and a total piece of shit. And now he’s dead. So, let’s use what his luxury bought and enjoy the spoils of his death.”

“I— Alright. Yes, you’re right. Why shouldn’t we?”

Niko crossed the room and joined him, sinking down into the chair opposite of Elliott.

It was a trooper, and only emitted a faint creak under the weight of his armor.

He looked across the table at his boyfriend, two aromatic plates of fresh chili tilapia between them.

Elliott was in his tactical gear, Repartee leaned against the table at his side now.

And all around them was beach house luxury that belonged to a dead man. Who they'd just murdered. Whose body lay tucked beneath his own probably ten thousand credit woven rug, growing cold.

Dinner was growing cold too, so Niko dug in.

They ate for a while in silence, the low sun above the sea and the dim candlelight their only illumination.

It softened Elliott’s features. Once he’d let himself start eating too, Elliott went nuts on the tilapia, as though he couldn’t get enough of it.

He licked the avocado crema off his fingers, making a mess.

Niko took an embroidered cloth napkin and reached across the table, wiping a smear of pale green sauce from the corner of his mouth.

An emptied plate of pan-seared fish and flute of champagne later, Elliott seemed to finally be relaxing.

He sat back in his chair, tilting his head back, exposing the column of his neck that Niko loved so much, then closed his eyes.

He drew in a deep breath, seeming to savor the scent of the sea and the quiet of the moment.

When he opened them again, Elliott looked straight at him with a bright feverishness that gave Niko chills.

It was those very eyes that had made Niko crave returning to Eanan. He'd wanted to compare shades of teal.

The ocean was beautiful—breathtaking, even. Men paid billions of credits to have a private mansion here with a wall of glass that faced the setting sun over the water. But none of it compared to the sea-green of Elliott’s eyes. Niko was the richest man in the galaxy.

He found himself smiling, and Elliott smiled back.

“This is… nice,” Elliott admitted, finally. Niko reached over and refilled the other man’s glass. He quickly took it and started sipping. “Thank you for the meal. It was wonderful.”

“I wanted to take you on a date. A real date. I might have had to compromise a little, though.”

“This is perfect, Niko.”

“Just don’t mind the body under the rug,” Niko said.

Elliott’s smile spread into an indulgent grin. His gaze flicked up, mischievous, toward Niko as he held the rim of his glass against his bottom lip. “Oh, I don’t know. I think that might be the best part of this whole experience, personally.”

“Sometimes I worry about you.”

“Only sometimes?” Elliott drank indulgently now, until his glass was almost drained in a single go.

“Elliott,” Niko said, looking at the handsome man across from him. The one who was, somehow, inexplicably, all his. “What was it like for you before this? What was a night out for you? What did you like to do?”

“ Oh ,” Elliott said, his voice turning oddly whimsical, his gaze flicking down to the table. He propped his chin in his hand. “That was a very long time ago. A different lifetime.”

“So?” Niko said. “I want to hear it. What did you do when you’d never even heard the word ‘Honeybliss’ before?”

“I wasn’t very exciting, I’m afraid,” Elliott said after a long silence.

“I worked. All the time. I buried myself in my job. But in my spare time, I liked repairing things. I liked… going to cafes. Bookstores. Museums of technology. The occasional party with my sister and our mutual friends. Sometimes nights out for dinner and drinks. There was this incredible place I loved back on Delevia. They served the best sushi I’ve ever had.

” He paused a moment, before refilling his glass and taking another sip.

When he spoke again, he seemed charmingly sheepish.

“Every Friday night after I finished work for the week, I’d take Cleo there and treat her to as much sushi as she wanted.

It was so small. The gesture, I mean. But it was my way of saying thank you for everything she’d done.

It became our ritual. We’d go see a movie afterwards, usually. I always looked forward to Fridays.”

“What kind of movies did you guys watch?”

Elliott shrugged. He took another drink.

“Anything. Whatever Cleo wanted to see. I wasn’t picky.

I don’t actually even like films much unless they’re particularly cerebral, but I find most of them are made for…

easier consumption. I hate having to turn my brain off and focus on a single thing in front of me, if that thing is going to be shallower than a puddle.

I like complexities and concepts that stay with you.

I’m rambling now. In the end, though, Cleo really loved movies and I liked that it made her happy.

And that we got to spend time together. So I always went back. ”

“Yeah, plot matters, right? Don’t get me wrong, I love me a good action flick with big explosions.” Niko couldn’t help but grin. “But honestly? My favorite movies are romances.” He gave a quiet, self-conscious laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that.”

“Really?” Elliott said, looking shocked. “Romances? That’s sweet, Niko.”

“Yeah, heh.” Niko picked at the expensive-looking table cloth. “I’m always drawn to movies that make me cry. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Elliott said. He peered at Niko warmly. “It’s really rather endearing. I’d go see a romance movie with you.”

“Would you actually enjoy it, though?” Niko asked. “I’d hate to just drag you along.”

“‘Cerebral’ in my case refers to emotional intelligence, too.”

Niko couldn’t help but smile.

“So, what about you, Niko? What did you do before you met me?”

“Uh,” Niko could feel his expression falling.

“Not a lot, actually. I used to be really active but ever since I fell, I just sort of… kept to my apartment, I guess. I didn’t do much.

Just watched a lot of mindless TV. I tried to pick up a couple jobs to keep up on bills because I was living mostly off my savings.

Data entry, shit like that. Where you didn’t have to talk to anybody.

” He definitely wasn’t selling himself as prime boyfriend material right now.

“I honestly can’t imagine you working a desk job, Niko,” Elliott said. He shook his head. “That’s far too pedestrian for you.”

“Eh, yeah. I really hated it. I had a couple of jobs like that but they never kept long. They wore me down hard and fast until I was so depressed I’d just quit on the spot. I was miserable. I really wasn’t someone worth knowing, back then.”