Ah, hell. He needed some perspective. It just hurt because he was hard up. In his quest to get Michelle back, he’d avoided the dating scene, not that he’d felt like it anyway. Now his body was paying him back, making him lust over a woman who equated him with Satan. What was he bloody well thinking?
He was thinking, despite her bruised face and frightened demeanor, that she looked beautiful. Now that he’d had the opportunity to examine her many times, he wasn’t sure how he’d ever thought her anything but beautiful. He could admit that much. With her cheeks flushed in anticipation, she’d been the most ravishing woman he’d ever seen. And she’d wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Yet her face had changed so quickly. She hated herself for staying in a casino hotel, felt she’d betrayed her morals, and she blamed him for all but forcing her into it. Well, she’d have to get over that. If the loan shark had found her home, he’d be able to find her regular haunts. At least under his roof he could have a security detail for her.
He stared out the window as his driver headed back to Vice. A drunk, young woman carrying a pitcher of beer wobbled on the sidewalk nearby. She toppled, spilling the brew all over in front of a frowning, elderly tourist. Sin City at its finest.
Sometimes he was so tired of this place.
Was Kate? Surely a non-gambler couldn’t enjoy living so close to the Strip. As he once again wondered about her opinions, he fought the urge to pound her out of his brain.
Shit, why am I doing this?
Because you want her.
Yes, sheltering Kate at Vice was lunacy. She might implode from indignation alone. Was he just being a Good Samaritan? He’d never pictured himself in the role. Frankly, he’d been too busy trying to stay alive during his formative years. After losing his parents, things had degenerated so badly he’d barely bounced back.
But he had. He was a fighter.
And as a fighter, he’d learned to wear a mantle of distrust around his shoulders. The philosophy served him well, in business and in life. He knew there were few people in this world he could truly count on, at least of those who weren’t on his payroll. After all, he’d been betrayed by so many who were close to him. And the sense of abandonment he’d experienced after losing his parents was unparalleled.
He’d tried to be a good person and do a good thing by temporarily housing Kate. But he knew his motives ran deeper than simple philanthropy. She moved him. She excited him. And he needed to be inside her like he needed food and drink.
So what should a fighter with abandonment issues do? Well, clearly he had to persuade her to give into her own hunger. Because now that Kate was on his turf, he wasn’t letting her go.
By the evening of her second night at Vice, Kate was going stir-crazy. Staring at the same four walls, no matter how exquisite they were, made her break out in hives of restlessness. She needed to have a break from hotel TV programming and room service. She needed to stretch her legs.
Granted, the room service had been spectacular. Even though she’d tried to order the cheapest things on the menu, she’d been dazzled by the quality. The only room service she’d ordered before Vice was at some dingy hotel in Reno, where she’d had the processed chicken fingers with a side of nausea. But at Vice she’d had Angus burgers, freshly-squeezed juice and a breakfast platter of bacon and eggs Benedict that had her salivating just remembering them now. Liam had taken great pains to ensure even the casual fare at Vice was worthy of Michelin stars.
Just as he’d taken great pains to make her comfortable. Every few hours, she received calls from Liam’s assistant, a lady named Pearl, asking if she needed anything, and the man himself popped in frequently. He never stayed long. Each visit was fraught with tension, but he brought her lots of little treats. To say nothing of how Wade’s security detail stood sentinel outside her door. She felt like freaking royalty.
Or maybe a prisoner. No, definitely royalty.
Okay, more like a pretend princess with a lop-sided crown.
As nice as everything was, she needed an hour or two of fresh air, or a reasonable facsimile. Surely a change of scenery wasn’t off-limits. She’d spoken with the police again. They approved of the idea of her holing up at Liam’s hotel. Of course. It saved them from having to send officers to babysit her. However, they’d told her to stay put if she could. Any crook who’d break into a woman’s apartment and try to rearrange her face couldn’t be trusted not to do it again.
But a girl could only order pay-per-view for so long. She needed to see other people. It seemed her only option was to go for a walk within the confines of Vice, as much as the idea pained her.
“Oh, come on. It’s not as if you’re rolling the dice. You’re just going for a walk.”
She caught her reflection in the mirror and almost changed her mind. Her shiner had deepened into a hideous brown, as if covered in grotesque shadows. Thank God it hadn’t puffed up too much.
Still, did she really want to promenade around Vice like that? Perhaps she could disguise the bruises. Grabbing her makeup case from her suitcase, she headed to the bathroom.
With a light touch, she applied some foundation, taking care to add a little extra on the tender spots where her skin had turned green. When she’d finished, Kate judged the final product and decided she still looked like a woman trying to mask a hideous bruise. Sighing, she picked up her purple eye shadow, the one she never used because the aubergine shade overwhelmed her fair skin. Applying some to her eye shadow brush, she proceeded to paint her other eye, very much hoping the end result would be a stylish, smoky eye on both sides of her face.
She gazed at herself in the mirror. Between her red ponytail and colored eyes, she resembled a whorish, sleep deprived Pippi Longstocking. Realizing she’d never completely camouflage the black eye, she released her hair from its ponytail, brushed it and flipped it so the fall of hair mostly covered the bruised eye. Veronica Lake, she could never hope to be, but it was good enough.
Letting her hair down reminded her of when Liam had done the same. The moment had gone down in her personal history as one of the most seductive ever. To feel his big hands in her hair, with a gentle yet demanding touch, made her wonder if he was the sort of man who liked to pull hair in bed. The sort who would turn her onto all fours, gather her hair in his palm, and pound her to heaven.
She blinked hard and tried to dislodge the aggressive yet enticing vision from her brain. “Yikes.”
After taking a few cleansing but otherwise ineffective breaths, she changed into the best clothes she had brought with her. Clean jeans and a cotton top with a few sequins scattered beneath the neckline might not win her a prize at Fashion Week, but they’d do. She spritzed herself with her favorite perfume, the one that made her smell like her mom’s garden, grabbed her purse and opened the door.
Wade, now on duty, turned to greet her. He took in her outfit and hair with a raised eyebrow. “Hey, you look nice. Goin’ somewhere?”
“I was hoping to escape my suite for a little while. The walls are closing in on me.”
