of a rock star and end up backstage at a concert.”
“Interesting.”
She glanced around. The way her eyes shifted, he could tell she was seeing the place from a new perspective. If only for a few seconds, her sadness lifted.
“It’s about people for you.”
“Yes.” It was one thing to help her get comfortable, quite another to let this conversation derail his plans. He’d be happy to discuss anything she wanted, just not now. He pointed to the exit. “But we’ll talk about it on the way to the airport or on the plane.”
She slid off her chair. “I have to pack.”
“You have five minutes! I’m serious. Five. I’ll get the car.”
She nodded.
He started walking away but turned back. “And, honestly, I have no idea why you’d want these clothes. If I were you, I’d leave them.”
She laughed.
A strange sensation invaded his chest. Even in those big glasses, she was incredibly beautiful. Add adorably logical and laughing—
He yanked himself back from the feeling that almost clicked into place. Attraction. He wasn’t worried that he’d fall for her. His heart had been sufficiently hardened by Cicely. So the pullback was quick, easy, painless. Especially given that Morgan had also publicly dumped some poor guy.
He headed out to the valet. When the kid returned with his rental car, he gave him a good tip for being speedy. He slid behind the steering wheel and locked his gaze on the door. The first five minutes had already passed, so when a second five minutes ticked off the clock he got nervous. The third five minutes had him slapping the steering wheel. She’d ditched him.
He shoved open his door, apologized to the valet for needing a few more minutes and raced into the lobby, hoping to see her checking out at the registration desk. But the place was quiet.
The concierge slipped away from his station and ambled up to him. “Your friend left.”
He spun to face the short, bald man. “What?”
“She checked out, rolled her suitcase through the casino—not the front door—and slipped out of one of the back exits.” He cleared his throat. “I probably shouldn’t have watched her, but it’s kind of hard not to see a beautiful woman rolling an ugly black suitcase through the casino.”
Riccardo pressed his fingertips into his forehead. He’d been duped. And in the most obvious, simple way. She’d used up all their time, gotten him to trust her and just walked away.
He was an idiot.
No. He had trusted her.
Hadn’t he told himself he should never again trust a pretty girl?
* * *
Morgan entered her new room at the hotel right beside Midnight Sins. She felt just a teeny bit bad for deceiving the handsome Spanish guy. Not just because her dad had made him a pawn in a game that didn’t have to be a game—she only wanted her twelve days to think about what to say, and how to handle him when she went home—but also because he was interesting. And fun. In a weird way, it was nice having someone so curious about her, even if it he was only asking her questions to figure out how to get her on the plane with him.
She took a shower, fixed her hair and slid into a slinky black dress she’d bought at one of the many shops in Midnight Sins. She wasn’t here to have fun, but she didn’t intend to sit in her room and mope, either. She’d spent her entire life semisheltered. She’d had a path at university. She’d had a path with Charles. And her dad had had too big of a hand in creating those paths. For the next twelve days, she did not want a path. She just wanted to live. Breathe. And eventually figure out an explanation for running that would appease the man who’d spent his life first fighting in wars and then preventing them.
Right now, living meant getting a salad, maybe having a gin and tonic and going to a show.
She grabbed her small beaded evening bag and left her room. Though she’d never been to Vegas before, she’d happily discovered that once she checked in to a hotel, she didn’t need to leave for anything. She could sleep there, gamble there, eat there, buy a bathing suit in a shop and sunbathe at the hotel pool. She would be right under Handsome Spanish Guy’s nose and he would never find her because he’d have to check hundreds of hotels. And then he’d have to find someone willing to tell him she was a guest.
The odds were absolutely in her favor.
Happy, she took the regular elevator to the first floor then a designated elevator to the rooftop restaurant, where she had a reservation.
The maître d’ greeted her effusively and led her to the private table in the corner. With its walls of windows, the restaurant provided a view of Las Vegas that astounded her. She sat, smiled at the maître d’ and took her menu. A minute later she gave her drink order to a friendly waiter and he left her alone to decide what she wanted to eat. She should have at least glanced at her food choices, but the view from forty stories up was too captivating. Lights and color twinkled silently below. Beyond the city, the desert was so dark she swore the world ended at the city limits.
The blackness in the window was interrupted by a strip of white. Something shiny winked. She saw the reflection of a hand.
She spun around and there was Handsome Spanish Guy. The man who wanted to take her home.
“Who are you anyway?”
“Riccardo Ochoa.” He pointed at the seat across from her. “May I join you?”
She tossed her hands in despair. “No! What part of ‘I’m trying to get some peace and quiet’ do you not understand?”
“Well, most of it—since I come to Vegas to meet people and have fun.”
“I came here to rest my brain. I know I have to go home and face all of this but I just want a breather.”
He sighed, pulled out the chair opposite her and sat. “You are not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
“Why do you care?” She sighed. “Look. Whatever my dad is paying you, I’ll double it.”
“He’s not paying me. He’s a client of my cousin’s firm.” He made a quick signal to summon the waiter and ordered a Scotch.
When the waiter left, she said, “And my dad threatened to walk if you didn’t bring me home.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint you but if you’re counting on taking me home to keep him as a client you’re going to lose him.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I’ve never failed on a mission. Never. When I promised to return you to Lake Justice, you were as good as home.”
She shook her head. “So arrogant.”
He laughed but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m Spanish. We invented arrogant.”
“It
