Vegas is hot and dusty, and I'm still grumpy and tired. The day is tiring, and my hair has endlessly stuck to my face in this humidity. We flew out here right after Sophie was taken away by the care worker and Jake's mother, Sylvana Carrero, the beautiful, kind goddess with stunning green eyes who looks so alarmingly like her son but very feminine. I love her in every way; anytime I meet her, she has this easy charm and the ability to put one at ease, much like he does.
I fought back the tears when hugging Sophie goodbye; our time together was so short, yet she had come to mean so much to me. Jake bought her a new cell and pre-set both our numbers and emails into it as a parting gift; we can always stay in touch, and she knows we will be there if she needs us. We have a bond like no other. We understand each other. We'll be like her eternal guardian angels, and I know I will always be in Sophie's story from this day on.
"Want to try the casinos, tiny?" Jake's voice comes up behind me as I empty my suitcase onto my bed, looking for a change of clothes or anything to relieve the stickiness of my suit. We arrived in such a rush that neither of us had unpacked yet; usually, housekeeping does such things in our absence, but this time they haven't. I'm not too fond of incompetence in one's job.
"I'm still tired. I think I'll have a bubble bath and go to bed," I sigh.
"First time in Vegas, and you want to go to bed? Bambina, no! You gotta live a little." He sounds frustrated with me. By normal standards, it's been a long week, and I've been freefalling for days. I can't keep up the pace as he can. Jake has no sense of exhaustion …ever!
"Would you rather I stay out late with you then pout the entire morning as I did on the plane?" I was probably the most irritated, grumpy person I have ever been on that flight, reeling with emotions about Sophie, my mother, and Ray Vanquis, not to mention trying to ignore memories of kissing my boss and going pie-eyed over him. Thankfully, I seem to have normalized a little in his presence again, the kiss not such a bright and burning memory as it had been, allowing me to detach a little from it.
"I'm sure the hotel can bring me a bag for your head so I don't have to see it." He grins, raising his eyebrow mischievously. We're back to normal.
"Nice. Charming and understanding as always, Jacob!" I pout again, sighing.
"Less of the Jacob, or I'll put you over my knee. Come out with me." He's in a boyish, pleading mode now, tugging at my hair to annoy me into a 'yes.'
Bored, Jake, darling?
I don't know where he gets his boundless energy; it's after nine at night, and we've had a day of grueling appointments, boring meetings, and a late business dinner, and now he wants to go play. Has he no clue how much of an emotional roller coaster I have been on lately?
"Don't you have any Vegas hotties lined up yet?" I sass him demurely. I guess being drop-dead gorgeous, built like an underwear model, and rich has its perks. With the vast number of women he has tucked at every port, I often wonder in awe how he manages to find half of them with minimal effort.
My suggestion for him to find a date grates on my nerves, rattling me inside. I have no idea why I even suggested it. A little jealousy raises its head, and I bite it back down.
"I don't want a Vegas hottie tonight. I want my pouty PA to let her hair down and kick back with me." He moves in closer, his warmth radiating along the back of my neck, making my skin tingle. His familiar aftershave disturbingly surrounds me.
"I was under the impression I already did," I say as I ruffle my loose hair to make the point; lately, I've been too tired to tie it up. Its length has annoyed me too, and I keep thinking I should get it cut shorter, maybe shoulder length.
"You know what I mean, sassy pants," he mocks with a smile while playfully nudging me on the chin.
"You pay me to be bright and chipper at your meetings," I respond with a wavering smile, turning to look at him over my shoulder as he walks away to lift his cell from the charging dock. I'm trying to express my tiredness as I flutter at him coquettishly.
"I pay you to do what I say. And right now, it's to come out with me. I want to play, get drunk, and feel up my sexy PA." He throws his charming wink over at me and walks back, cell in hand, moving close in behind me, the warmth of his presence invading through the thin material of my blouse. He's almost touching me, his heat radiating alarmingly. Since our sleep kiss, I have been way more sensitive to him, and it's been throwing me all out of whack, especially as he seems to be a lot more demonstrative and hands-on.
"We both know that's not on the cards; besides, I didn't bring anything to wear to a casino, Jake," I lie, knowing there's a black cocktail dress in my suitcase. I'm always under orders to carry a dress for an impromptu dinner or party when we travel. Like an eagle spotting prey at a distance, he leans past me and pulls the dress out, lifting it to let it hang in the air between us accusingly.
Hmmm, busted!
"Perfect! Sexy dress for little sexy Emma." He drapes it over my shoulder and slaps my butt with a swift, sharp smack. I squeak in protest and throw him a haughty look. "Put it on; I'll be five minutes max."
I sigh heavily, ordered about by him again! In Jake's terms, he will be more like twenty minutes. I can't even argue. I exhale again, more defeatedly this time, and sag knowing that he's in his delightful, stubborn mode, and I'll get no say; arguing is pointless. I am tired, and I want to go to bed. The last thing I need is a tight dress, alcohol, and the proximity of my boss in flirt mode when I'm struggling to control my hormones around him. I've made a habit of avoiding him in drunk mode ever since the kitchen kiss. Drunk Jake makes me wary; he loses even more of his inhibitions if that's possible, and I have no idea how to deal with him if he gets a little romantic. Or I do.
***
I grimace as I catch sight of myself in the mirror; once again, Donna has excelled herself, and I chastise myself for not trying this dress on before this trip. It's tight and short and revealing. It's sleeveless with thin straps and a fitted bust leading down to a tight, figure-hugging, knee-length skirt. It's mainly made of lace, with an under-layer retaining my modesty, and the result is slinky but in a non-slutty way. Well, maybe a little slutty. I'm all boobs. My stilettos do wonders for my legs, but I feel a little naked.
My make-up is darkened and smoky. I brush my hair and leave it down to cover some of my exposed shoulders and cleavage. It waves naturally, coming down to my elbow.
I'm ready unusually fast, still with a deep knot of anxiety in my lower stomach, and fidget impatiently.
Jake strolls back wearing his favorite black shirt, open neck, and black trousers. Effortlessly sophisticated, he always looks fantastic in black, and his eyes practically glow with green coolness. He seems to falter as he catches sight of me, frowns, adjusts his cuffs, and averts his eyes. He says nothing at first, then sets a usual smile on his face before looking me over again.
This is a bad idea; I can feel it already. I want my suit, hair tied up, and my 'cool and in control' mask back in place.
"You look stunning, Emma. I may have to beat off a few men tonight on your behalf or pee on you to mark my territory." He grins at me as I blanch in disgust.
"Ewww, hell no!"
He checks his hair in the mirror over the mantle one more time before reaching his hand out to me, his eyes still skimming with a look that he never throws my way … appreciation. Not flirty Jake eyefuls, like he usually does, but a serious, eye-skimming, checking-me-out look. I swallow down the nerves and accept his hand. No idea why I'm this uneasy. He takes my fingers in his and pulls me toward the door before I can argue. He is always so overbearing when his mind is made up.
***
The casino is everything I imagined it would be. I've watched enough episodes of CSI not to be awed by the splendor of the vast red-carpeted room filled with machines, tables, and noise. Jake tries his luck at a few tables and soon looks bored. He's never been much of a gambler; he prefers to have situations laid out where he controls the players and always wins. It's why he's his father's second-in-command, with his inherited skills. Although, after the Hunter merger, I'm beginning to think his skills surpass those of Senior, seeing he knew how to play him well.
"You want to hit a club instead of this?" He is close to me, and he's already fed up with the casino. I glance at a couple of women appraising him up and down and am mildly irritated. Maybe I should point him toward the two leggy blondes, go back to my room, and have my quiet night after all. Seeing them look him over like fresh meat, I pout; I'm irritated by it again, and I'm aware it's unattractive. I glare and turn my attention back to him.
"Sure," I declare defiantly as, from the corner of my eye, I catch the blonde girl licking her lips and thrusting her boobs forward, readying herself to approach him.
No doubt the slutty pair don't mind group sex.
He grins happily, unaware of the female attention he's receiving. I slide my arm through his possessively, throwing back my hair and sending the 'hoes' a signal.
Back off. He's not interested.