Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“Oh, yeah? Is that the shit sandwich she’s been feeding you? Damned chameleon, that’s what she is. I’m sorry you don’t see it yet, but you will. She’ll say whatever keeps the coin flowing. Money and attention were always her worst binge drugs.”
Yikes.
I shrink back against the wall, feeling the color draining from my face. Lines of confusion creep across Dad’s polite expression.
He rubs his fingers together.
He’s obviously upset, but he’s too diplomatic. Too nice.
The man is rarely confrontational, especially when there’s no way to win.
I shudder, remembering how it took him months to confront my cheating mother, even when the evidence was all over the house. I overheard the staff gossiping about the gifts she’d get and used condoms they never bothered to hide.
Just once, I wish Dad would grow a spine.
Get angry.
Be human.
But he isn’t going to start with Chris—not when he’s trapped in this delicate situation with a woman who’s impossible to please—and I watch him slink toward the stairs with his head down.
“Have a safe flight, kids. Enjoy yourselves while you’re young, before things can get so complicated.” He disappears out of sight, leaving us hanging on his words.
Enjoy yourselves.
Well, complicated is right.
How do we do this without Sin City living up to its name?
I try not to let my brain fixate on night after night of forbidden gravity-defying bed gymnastics with the beast in front of me.
Holy crap.
We’re already alone in the hall, and I can hardly stand it.
Will I really survive an entire week with him?
I fold my arms, biting my tongue before I say, “I can’t lie. I’m pretty surprised you changed your mind—that’s a pretty big about-face. What gives?”
“Vegas, baby. Plain and simple. A date with Lady Luck changes a lot.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, like it’s really that easy. “Listen, Delia, I like you, even if you’re not riding my dick. You’re honest. You’re smart. You’re sensitive. You’re coming up in the world and you could use one less asshole in your life.”
My ears perk and my brows rise.
“Is that one less asshole you?”
Again, he gives me that soul-melting grin.
This. Is. Torture.
And I can’t decide if he’s punking me, if this is some new elaborate prank, or if he’s actually being sweet and sincere.
He steps forward, closing in.
I’m ready to pull away from his grasp before he curls my toes for the millionth time.
“Princess, I told you. I’m your ace. Somebody has to make sure you don’t fall in with dudes you’d never want to meet. And I don’t just mean criminals when Vegas is also crawling with lounge lizards and fuck boys galore.” He reaches out, grabs my wrists, and pulls me into him. “I wasn’t kidding when I said the city has a dark side. It’s not all fun and games. While you were Google stalking me, maybe you saw how that asshole in the Virgins got most of his girls? A good number of ’em were kidnapped right under their parents noses in Las Vegas.”
For a second, I stare at him, my blood running cold.
“But those girls were way younger, as disgusting as it is,” I say, snapping out of it. “Besides, I’m too old for a freaking babysitter, Chris. Knowing who my dad is, I’m a lot more likely to get held for ransom than shipped off for my looks, right?”
“You’d be surprised how many fucked up things can happen to a pretty young lady with her shields down.” He smiles firmly, hardening his grip.
...and did he just call me pretty?
Excitement churns my blood, adrenaline so intoxicating I can barely move.
He’s so unpredictable, Mr. Lawful Chaos incarnate.
I’m not sure what that makes me for wanting him.
Obviously, I still do—even after the insults, the humiliation, the week of radio silence.
For once in my life, I’d like to live it up, and Vegas seems like a better way to do that than another messy college party looking for a suitable hookup with Marnie laughing from the sidelines.
I want to be like her, minus the over-the-top habits.
A functioning woman who gets to enjoy the things a girl in her twenties should, and the badass enigma with his body folded around mine reminds me that I’m not.
“Call me Jiminy goddamned Cricket,” he growls, running his stubble across my cheek.
“Come again?” I whisper.
“I’m your conscience for this trip, Delia. We’ll make this your ride. Your adventure. No bullshit. I’m just along to keep you safe and make sure you don’t get in over your head.”
Just like that, he lets me go.
And just like before, every time we separate, it feels like crashing back to earth so hard it bruises my soul.
I watch him pick up the bag he’s dropped on the floor. He slings it over his shoulder and doesn’t look back as he walks to his room and shuts the door.