She didn’t win all of the next attacks, but she was doing well. She landed on the mat several times, but she also broke free of their holds a lot. She listened to what I was teaching her. She learned from the guys.
By the end, I saw that she was tired and favoring her side. “Okay, let’s leave it there. Good work, Georgie.” I handed her a bottle of water.
She gulped it down gratefully.
I could tell Bastian and Alessio were both impressed.
Bastian smiled, re-tucking his shirt. “You did very well, Georgie. That means I should buy you dinner.”
She smiled. “I think so.”
I scowled. “Buyusdinner.”
My friend smirked. “Of course. That’s what I meant.”
CHAPTER 24
GEORGIE
Bastian’s penthouse was mind-blowing. I felt very much like a small-town girl as I walked inside.
It had a dark, moody vibe—black with bronze accents like the main casino—that was very masculine and screamed wealth. The floor was a glossy, black marble with bronze veins through it, the furniture was black and sleek.
Viv would have loved this place. My heart squeezed. God, I missed her.
Nash seemed comfortable in the space. He headed straight for the built-in fridge in the slick kitchen. There was an enormous island, with modern, bronze pendant lights hanging over it. I had a sneaking suspicion the fancy appliances cost more than my car.
Alessio sat at the long table that had a million chairs. It was the longest dining table I’d ever seen.
“I ordered from Sinatra,” Bastian said from behind the island.
Named after the famous singer, I’d heard of the well-known Italian restaurant in the Wynn Casino. “Sinatra does take out?”
Bastian smiled that slow smile I knew must charm the panties off the ladies. “No. But they do for me. I hope you worked up an appetite, Georgie.”
Nash edged closer to me, his body crowding mine.
“Beer or wine?” Bastian asked.
“She’s still on painkillers,” Nate grumbled. “She’ll have a soda.”
I pulled a face. “A soda would be great.”
Bastian waved at the giant fridge. “Take your pick.”
I nabbed a Diet Coke and Bastian handed me a glass with some ice. The front door of the penthouse opened and Cole strode in, shrugging off a leather jacket. My gaze dropped to his muscular arms and the tattoos snaking up the left one.
“Where’s dinner?” he asked.
“Coming, you heathen.” Bastian tossed Cole a beer.
Cole spotted me and nodded.
“Hi, Cole.”
“I’m gonna help out with your training, too.” His voice was low, raspy. “Heard you’re doing well.”
I fought a flush of pleasure. “Thank you.”
