Niko: Licensed to Kill

Zoey,
I'm sitting in a French safe house as I type this email. I'm eating caviar and drinking champagne with handsome government agent, Niko Reynard. He's wearing nothing but navy silk pajama bottoms, oozing mega doses of sex appeal. I'm in big trouble, little sister. He's kissed me several times and given me a foot massage that nearly caused spontaneous combustion. I'm feeling strangely virginal compared to the sexual prowess this thirty-year-old man exudes.
When I came to Paris for a bit of adventure, I never imagined I'd foil a bombing attempt, karate-kick two men, and run from terrorists while wearing a new pair of Pradas stilettos. I've met a German street musician, a gay poet from Australia, and the most delightful older French woman.
Don't worry. I'm safe…the jury's still out on yummy Niko, though. The more champagne I drink, the less reserved I feel. What an unforgettable fortieth birthday! I won't return to North Carolina the same sister you're used to seeing, but then wasn't that the purpose of this trip—to have a life-altering experience? Love you. Hug and kiss my niece for me.

Alyson