I bit my lip, torn between relief at hearing from my best friend and worry about how Matt would react. But I needed this. I needed to see a familiar face.
Meet me in the lobby of The Maxwell’s, I texted back, not caring if Matt got pissed. I needed this slice of normalcy, even if it was just for a moment.
With Finley’sokay, see you soonglowing on my screen, I shut my laptop and slid it into its case with a sense of urgency. I grabbed my wallet, already picturing Finley’s raised eyebrow and the teasing quip he’d have ready for me. I could use a dose of his sarcasm right about now.
I was halfway out the door, the taste of freedom already sweet on my tongue, when I damn near collided with a wall. Not a wall, though—it was one of Matt’s suited goons. Big, bald, and built like he ate cinder blocks for breakfast.
“Jesus!” I staggered back, clutching at my racing heart. “Ever heard of personal space?”
The man didn’t so much as crack a smile. “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was like gravel tossed in a metal drum.
“I need to get out,” I said, endeavoring to sidestep him. “Cabin fever is setting in, and if I don’t stretch my legs, I’ll go stir-crazy.”
His stance didn’t waver. “Boss says you can’t leave.”
My temper flared, butting heads with my desperation. “Look, all I want is to take a stroll around the hotel. Grounds only. Cross my heart.” I drew anXover my chest for good measure.
He shook his head—a boulder refusing to roll. “No can do. A no from the boss is a no from me.”
With a frustrated huff, I whipped out the phone Matt had given me—his name still burned into the contacts list—and dialed without hesitation. Whether he was in a meeting or plotting world domination didn’t matter to me at that moment. This prison guard routine was too much.
Matt’s voice, slick as a Vegas card dealer’s shuffle, answered the phone before the first ring even faded. “Well, well, what a pleasant surprise to have my cute little pet phoning me.”
I didn’t bother with pleasantries. “There’s a hulk here who won’t let me leave the penthouse,” I said, my voice flat.
“Ah, you must be referring to Bruno,” Matt replied, a chuckle lacing his words. “He’s not just a pretty face; he’s your bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard, my ass,” I muttered under my breath. Then, louder, I said, “Look, I need to get out of here for a bit. Can’t I just take a stroll around the hotel?”
There was a pause on the other end, and I could almost hear the gears turning in Matt’s head. “I suppose my little pet does need to stretch his legs now and again,” he finally conceded. “You’re fine to leave the penthouse and stroll about in the hotel, but Bruno has to be with you at all times.”
Before I could argue that a shadow wasn’t necessary, Matt hung up.
I turned to Bruno and raised an eyebrow. “You heard the man,” I said with a sigh. Bruno simply nodded, his expression unchanging.
Leaving the penthouse felt like taking a deep breath after holding it for too long. Bruno, my newly minted shadow, followed closely behind me. We descended to the first floor, the elevator ride silent save for the occasional mechanical hum.
The lobby was a cavernous space of luxury—marble floors so polished I could see my reflection, chandeliers dripping with crystals that cast a warm glow over everything, and sumptuous seating arrangements that looked like they belonged in a palace.
Amid the grandeur, the lobby hummed with activity. Sharply dressed guests milled about, sipping cocktails or chatting animatedly, while staff in crisp uniforms darted to and fro, attending to every need with impeccable efficiency.
I sank into one of the plush sofas near an extravagant floral arrangement, the scent of exotic blooms filling my nostrils. They were beautiful, sure, but I was more focused on Bruno looming behind me, his presence as unyielding as the marble beneath my feet.
“Hey, Mount Bruno,” I said, attempting to peer around his hulking form. “Mind standing over there? You’re blocking my sun—and my sanity.”
His stony expression didn’t waver. “Can’t do that. Boss’ orders.”
I sighed and leaned back into the sofa, pulling out my phone to distract myself from feeling like a prisoner in paradise. Finley had texted me.Here.
Moments later, I spotted him making his way through the lobby at breakneck speed. Finley Collins—pearl-blond hairtousled just right, piercing blue eyes that could make you forget your own name, and a grin that could light up Vegas on its own.
“Andy!” he called out, arms open wide as he approached.
“Fin!” I stood up just in time for him to envelop me in a bear hug. We slapped each other on the back in that exaggerated bro hug style we’d perfected over the years.
“Dude,” he said with a grin that spelled trouble. “Heard you’ve been mixing it up with casino royalty and diving headfirst into crazy shenanigans.” His gaze shifted to Bruno, and his eyebrows shot up. “Whoa! Who’s your shadow? The Hulk’s cousin?”
“Let’s grab lunch first,” I said quickly, eager to avoid any questions about my current predicament—or my bodyguard.
