“See that girl standing by the stairs? That’s my father’s second assistant. Try not to look too pissed off at me.”
“I’ll be as sweet as sugar,” I snap quietly. A smile replaces my frown when we approach the tall, blond girl with a catwalk figure.
“Mr. Stone.” She flicks her hair and beams at him. Jesus, her eyes are undressing him right here. “And this must be Miss Black?”
“That’s me.” My smile turns tight, and she notices, quickly diverting her eyes to the clipboard in her hand.
She clears her throat. “Well, Mr. Stone, your father wanted me to tell you that everything you need is on the plane, and you’re booked to stay at the Dorgate.”
“Presidential suite?” Aaron questions.
“Yes, sir. You have use of the company card.” She hands him a slick, black American Express card. “Anything bought while you’re away is to go on the bill, and it’ll be sent to your father when you check out of each hotel.”
“Thank you, Sarra. Is that everything?”
“Yes, sir. Have a good trip.” She flashes me a quick smile and gets in the car we just left.
I feel Aaron’s eyes on me and turn my face toward him. “What?”
“I think you scared her.” His lips twitch.
My own lips curl in response and my eyebrows rise. “Hey, she was trying to hit on you. It’s my job to scare people off. That’s why you hired me in the first place, remember?”
I climb the stairs to the plane, but before I can get inside, Aaron wraps an arm around my stomach and brings his mouth close to my ear.
“Correct. I hired you in the first place to scare the vultures off. This time I hired you to be yourself, because believe it or not, all you have to do is be in the same room as other girls to scare them off.”
“Flattering,” I retort dryly.
“Beauty is intimidating, Dayton, and you’re the very definition of the word.”
“Smooth. Do you use that often?” I push his arm from me and take myself to the plush, cream seats.
“No.” He sits opposite me. “I’m not in the habit of lying to people who matter to me.”
I raise an eyebrow as an attendant comes out and he orders two coffees for after takeoff.
“What if I want tea?”
That smirk appears again. “You hate tea.”
“I used to.”
“Would you like tea?”
“No.” I sit back and cross my legs. “I hate tea.”
Aaron shakes off his jacket and leans forward. “Are you going to be this difficult the whole time?”
“Oh you better believe it, baby. Difficult is my middle name.”
The pilot’s voice comes over the speaker and instructs us that we’re about to take off. I clip the seatbelt around my waist and turn my attention to the window and the rising sun filtering through the faint Seattle skyline.
Nerves bubble up inside as the plane moves, and I tilt my head into the chair, my hair falling and covering my face. I screw my eyes shut, fear slithering through every part of my body, freezing me, and holding me hostage. I don’t move until we level off and are surrounded by fluffy white clouds.
The coffees are placed in front of us, and I take a long sip and try to calm my breathing.
“You haven’t flown since, have you?”
My eyes snap up to Aaron’s. “What does it matter?”
“Dayton.”
“No. I haven’t. This is the first time I’ve been anywhere near a plane in five years, to be honest. I’ve never had to.”
“We could have driven to Vegas.”
“And you’re driving to Sydney? Milan? Paris?” I raise my eyebrows. “I’m sure I can manage two hours on a plane.”
He nods but says nothing back to my bravado. Because we both know that’s what this is. Bravado. I’m more scared than a claustrophobic person trapped in an elevator.
I drop my eyes to my mug and watch the dark liquid swirl inside it. “So,” I say after a long moment of silence.
“So,” Aaron returns.
“I need to make sure I’m on the same page as you with this ‘relationship’ thing.”
“What do you need to know?”
For some reason, asking him the questions I’d ask any other client makes me want to blush.
And I don’t blush.
Ever.
“This arrangement… What’s expected in public?”
“For you to act as a normal girlfriend would. The way you did the other night. We’re in the honeymoon stage.”
“Fabulous. And in private?”
“We’ll be sleeping in the same bed, if that’s what you’re asking. Don’t forget my father booked our hotel rooms.”
I meet his gaze. “Of course. And sex?”
His eyes cloud over with heat at the word, making my stomach muscles tighten. “Optional.”
Let’s rephrase that.
Sex: optional but inevitable.
***
I press my fingertips to the ceiling-high glass windows that stretch the length of the main area of the suite. From this position, on the highest floor of the hotel, I can see the whole strip stretching out before me, lit up so brightly it barely seems like night is falling.
Vegas—it’s a whole other world filled with temptation and greed. It doesn’t matter how much you have when you’re here because you always want more. More risk, more money, more everything. It’s a city I’ve always avoided despite my job. I always told myself I’d never give in to the lure of Sin City, yet here I am.
At least I didn’t bring me here.
“You’re missing half your robe,” Aaron’s voice travels across the room.
“In that case, you should call the concierge. God forbid I should be wearing half a robe.” I drop my hand and walk toward him, ready to get dressed for the night.
He stretches his arm out across the door, stopping me. “Why would I do that?”
“You tell me.” I turn my face toward him.
“There isn’t a thing that would convince me to tell the concierge.” He drops his eyes to the opening at my chest and brings them back up. “Especially when you forget to put underwear on beneath it.”
“Ah, yes. I forgot. You get to look at your girlfriend that way.”
“Just exercising my right to look at my girlfriend.”
I push his arm down and grab the door. “Yeah? Now I’m exercising my right to lock this damn door behind me.” I slam it, the noise echoing around the bedroom, and turn the latch.