1
DAMIEN
“Are you here yet?”Marcus asked the minute I answered his call.
I shook my head, my brother’s boundless energy making a tired smile spread across my face. The heavy thump of club music that almost drowned out his voice confirmed what I’d suspected, though: when the driver he’d sent to the airport to get me had said he knew where he was supposed to take me, he hadn’t meant the hotel.
“If by ‘here,’ you mean The Bellagio,” I said, holding my keycard in front of the door to my suite to unlock it, “then yes, I just arrived.”
“That wasn’t where the car was supposed to take you,” Marcus said with a distinct pout in his voice.
I laughed. My baby brother was so predictable. But then again, so was I, and I had no doubt that Marcus wasn’t actually surprised to hear that I’d overridden the instructions he’d given the driver.
Having just hit forty, I had fifteen years on Marcus, but even back when I’d been his age, clubs like the one it sounded like he was at—hell, the entire Vegas scene, for that matter—had never been my speed. It was probably why Marcus had been soshocked when I’d unexpectedly agreed to come to this week-long destination bachelor party of his.
Honestly, I’d been a little shocked myself.
I had no doubt that he’d invited me more as a familial gesture than an actual desire for my company. Not that we weren’t close, because we were, but partying with him was best left to the friends his own age. At least, that had been my stance until Kiera’s final round of bullshit—at the shit show that our last settlement hearing had turned into—had snapped something inside me.
My patience?
My sanity?
My lifelong, ingrained habit of always doing the right thing?
Not that there was anything wrong with blowing off some steam here in Vegas, of course, but it definitely wasn’t my usual style. Hell, if I was being honest, even though the trip should have been about me being here for my brother, the truth was that I’d just needed a goddamnescape. Some stress relief. A well-deserved bit of rest and recovery after the hell the divorce proceedings had put me through.
No, after the hell my entire marriage had put me through.
I stepped into the suite and kicked the door closed behind me, parking my rolling suitcase next to it and switching the call with my brother onto speaker.
“It sounds like you’re having fun, Marcus.” I raised my voice so he could still hear me as I tossed the phone down, then scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to wipe away some of my exhaustion.
Marcus laughed. “Fun is what I do, old man.”
The nickname made me grimace. He’d taunted me with it ever sinceI’dbeen in my twenties, but for the first time, I actually felt old. Not because I’d just had a milestone birthday—and not even because I had no intention of partaking in the kindof wild activities he undoubtedly had planned for the week—but because on the flight over, it had suddenly hit me just how many years of my life I’d wasted with Kiera.
The truth was that I’d never wanted to marry her in the first place, and I for damn sure hadn’t wanted tostaymarried to her.
I hadn’t wantedher, period.
What was done was done though, and after a dozen years stuck in a loveless marriage, I was finally free. I’d also already offered plenty of unheeded advice to Marcus against his upcoming—and far too impulsive, in my opinion—marriage, so the least I could do was not ruin his fun this week by dragging my regrets here to Vegas with me.
“So, what time can I expect to see you here at the club?” Marcus asked, clearly taking great delight in goading me when we both knew there was no way I was going to hit a dance club after a five-hour flight. Or, if I was honest, probably ever. “Do I need to send another car to collect you? Hire an enforcer? Tempt you with a special...escort? You know I wouldn’t want you to miss out, big brother.”
I rolled my eyes, an indulgence I’d never have given in to if he’d been able to see me—and one I certainly couldn’t afford in my day-to-day life as a high-powered corporate attorney—but here? Giving in to the childish impulse was my one concession to the saying about things that happened in Vegas, staying in Vegas.
“I have no intention of doing anything but sleeping tonight, Marcus,” I told him, which, despite his teasing, I had no doubt he already knew. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
“Sleep?” he said, sounding incredulous.
I frowned. Marcus and I were as close to each other as the rest of our heartless family was distant. Yes, he was impulsive, a bit reckless, and frequently over-the-top—in other words, my polar opposite—but I’d practically raised him. He knew mebetter than anyone... which meant there was no way my plans for the night should have been a surprise.
“I don’t think so,” he added in a singsong voice that immediately made me suspicious.
I loved my brother, but I’d spoiled him. He thought he could get away with anything... and honestly, as charming as he was, he was usually right. Marcus had a good heart but piss-poor judgement, and if the smug satisfaction in his voice was anything to go by, he’d applied both those qualities in whatever plans he had brewing for tonight.
Plans forme, from the sound of it.
