SINCEI’Dleft Vegas, I’d never really hit the Strip until this trip. Without daring to look back, I’d locked my piece up in Asher’s safe before heading to Florida. With a firm bro hug and a kick on the ass with his motorcycle boot, Asher had sent me on my way two years ago.
Thank fuck.
After an hour of playingMr. Lucky and in Love in Vegaswith Marta and a week of being the big man in charge of Asher’s empire,I wanted nothing more than a break. Some peace and fucking quiet.
And I desperately craved my window looking out onto the South Beach drag.
Showing Marta around should have been fun. But what started as a little nagging in my gut grew into a giant gaping abscess. I was stringing her along, and she knew it. Asher knew it.And it only took twenty-four months for me to know it.
The first night she was there was a disaster that ended in an even more noxious fucking.
After the scene at the valet station, we settled into an enormous suite at the Luxious. And for a moment, it appeared Marta forgot about her emotional outburst in the car. The room was the most outrageous place she’d ever seen.
Before we left to grab some dinner, she’d run around the place, smoothing her hand along the back of the silk sofa and sniffing at the votive candles filled with pomegranate-scented wax. I only knew the damn fucking smell because it was the signature scent in all of my dad’s joints, compliments of his second wife.
Then Marta filled the Jacuzzi tub with bubbles and recreated the scene fromPretty Womanwhere Julia Roberts went from cheap streetwalker to kept woman in Richard Gere’s penthouse suite. Watching her from the doorway to the bathroom—her ear buds in, swaying to music, most likely Matchbox 20 or something similar, with her eyes closed and her feet up on the ledge—my heart sank.
What the hell had happened to me?
I was chasing a hooker—one that I believed I was hopelessly in love with—and I was sleeping with my employee, who was a stripper. And I thought I’d hit rock bottom when Rochelle left me for my dad.
Locking my thoughts down tight, I took Marta out on the town. We ate sushi while overlooking the Strip, rode the elevator to the top of the fake Eiffel Tower, kissing at the top. That’s where it got really fucked up. Because she grabbed my cock at the top, and I’m a dude, so I reacted.
It had been days since I’d unloaded myself. I certainly couldn’t jerk off in Asher’s office.
So, with half an erection, I took Marta back to the hotel and screwed her brains out before going to check on the Tunnel—leaving her behind to herPretty Womanfantasies.
Before you get all judgy, I don’t need any more guilt.
At first, I was lonely. Starting up with Marta was not only a dick move but also a kind of rescue fantasy. Now, I had no freaking clue what the fuck was up other than my heart belonged elsewhere. I needed to cut ties, even if it meant being alone for the rest of my life.
It wasn’t until the next morning when my phone rang while I was passed out on Asher’s sofa, that I realized the enormity of my stupidity.
I had forgotten to go back to Marta at the hotel. Instead, I’d spent the wee hours of the night with a lowball glass and a bottle of JD.
With nowhere to turn or hide, I rushed back to the hotel with my tail between my legs and room service on the way. When I walked into the room, Marta gave me a kiss with a tight smile.
“I’m sorry I pushed you yesterday in the car,” she said while sipping her orange juice.
The sweet citrus smell mixed with the scents of bacon and sausage, and when added to the generous helping of regret I’d walked in with, made my stomach and head spin like a giant industrial washing machine.
“It’s got nothing to do with that, Marta. You know I’m fucked up in the head over her. And now I’m fucked up even more because of you.”
A lone tear slid down her cheek, splashing onto her plate. I ran my hand along her face, slipping a few stray hairs behind her ear, and she closed her eyes. “I care for you, sweetie. I do. And you know in the last few years we’ve been together, I haven’t strayed. Physically. Mentally, I could’ve never fully been yours.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I hoped and wished. Tried to keep it light and fun. But I still prayed you’d move on.” She ducked her head, avoiding my eyes.
“I should’ve known. Paid better attention. I’m so stupid. I really thought you wanted fun. But then you knew how I took my eggs and showed up here, and I finally clued in.” I raised her chin with my finger and cupped my hand on her cheek, taking in her sheer beauty. I was a fucking idiot, but I couldn’t love her. Not like that.
“It’s okay, Mike. I’ve known about Lynx since we first met. Not just the part about you looking endlessly for her and you cared for her, but that she was so much, much more to you. Remember she was there that first time you had me come by the club? She was up in your office when I arrived. I’d been there a few minutes. You’d been arguing, and I heard her screaming ‘Never, no fucking way am I quitting.’ When I heard you choking out ‘I love you’ through tears, my heart broke for you.”
Breakfast long forgotten, Marta stood and went to look out the panoramic window. The reflection of her curves and her long eyelashes in the glass was stunning. Any man would be a downright fool to let that go.
And I was a fool. This gorgeous, caring woman would willingly walk through fire or do anything for me.
“I didn’t know you heard us. But, yes, I remember her storming out as you walked in. It was one of a million fights we had, but it was the big one. The one where she totally dropped me, cut me off completely.”
“I thought you were kind of adorable and sweet the first time I met you,” Marta said, “but I could see in your eyes you were taken even back then. When I heard Lynx screaming in your office, I was a little happy. I thought maybe I could make you mine.” A sob escaped Marta’s throat as she leaned her forehead against the mirrored glass.
