He leaned in and sniffed the curry. “It smells incredible.”
“It’s ready whenever you are.”
Alex stared at her for a moment, his gaze bright with wonder. He paced the kitchen a couple of times and then plunked himself down on the couch.
Dana went over and sat on his lap. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I like this. Being here with you.”
“You haven’t tried my curry yet.”
“I mean it, Dana. I know I’m just staying here temporarily, and I realize your condo isn’t my place, but I get excited coming home to you.”
“You mean you like me being your domestic goddess?”
“You know what I mean. I like being in the same space as you, breathing the same air. Sharing the same bed, the same utensil drawer, the same closet.”
“I like it too.”
She dropped a soft kiss on his cheek, but he captured her mouth, seducing her with the velvet glide of his tongue. His left hand curled around her hip, his fingernails digging gently into her jeans.
“You make me look forward to the future,” Alex said between kisses. “I want you in my future.”
It was still hard for her to envision where she would be in a year’s time, never mind beyond then. Still, she didn’t argue about it anymore, not even with herself.
Alex had helped her start looking forward too.
“You really need to try my curry before you make any rash decisions.” She eased off his lap and grabbed his left hand, leading to the kitchen. Dana grabbed a fork from the utensil drawer, lifted the lid off the pot and speared a piece of cauliflower. She held it to Alex’s lips.
He ate the cauliflower, his gaze on her. As he chewed, his smile widened, restoring her Zeus to her. “It’s delicious.”
Dana stifled a giggle of happiness. She liked making Alex smile like that.
She didn’t want a day to go by without seeing that smile.
***
Pierre Dubois checked his bank balance on his cellphone.
Where had it all gone? He was sure his funds would have lasted longer.
Of course, he had been spending a lot of his time free time at the Golden Nugget. Even more so since Alex canned him.
He didn’t can you. He made that clear.
It didn’t seem to matter.
This was Alex’s fault. The day he’d offered to help, Pierre had gone right out, despondent. He’d headed for the craps table at the Nugget and had won big. His elation had been all-consuming. He’d continued to gamble and had promptly lost his last dollar.
What was he supposed to do, accept Alex’s help? Because of him, Pierre was in this mess. If Alex had bothered to provide a bit more stimulation on the job, Pierre wouldn’t be forced to look for stimulation elsewhere. And there was so much stimulation on the Strip. How was he expected to avoid it?
Being a driver for Vice had sounded so glamorous. Carting Alex around Vegas, as well as the odd celebrity, had seemed like a dream come true.
In reality, there were long stretches of boredom. It wasn’t as if Alex needed him on a constant basis. What was he supposed to do? Sit on his ass and stare at the wall until the big man decided he needed help getting from Point A to Point B? Maybe get the Escalade washed one more time? If he buffed it any further, the paint would peel off.
Convinced he’d made a mistake, he checked his bank balance one more time, but none of the numbers magically changed. He was officially in the red. His rent was coming due. He owed big time on his credit card, and his ex-wife kept emailing him about his inability to keep up with support payments.
It didn’t matter that Alex put him on paid leave. No matter what he did, his paycheck always ended up in someone else’s pocket.
