“Both.” He shifted closer. Not touching, but close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “Both fires. Both times, you survived. That’s impressive.”
My breath caught. “Ares?—”
His jaw tightened. “We’re not good at letting people get close to us.”
“So I heard,” I said. He gave me a sharp glance, and I admitted, “Leo mentioned something about it.”
“He would.” His hand finally moved from the seat to my shoulder. Warm. Solid. Real.
The limo was slowing down. We’d be back at the hotel soon. This moment would end. The professional masks would slide back into place.
Or maybe they wouldn’t.
“Ares,” I said. “When we get back, would you?—?”
I was about to say, “check my room.” Not an overt invitation, but I could take things one step at a time. But before I could finish, his phone buzzed.
He checked it and swore. “I’ve got to talk to my security analyst. He says he has something.”
The moment shattered.
“Go,” I said, even though I wanted to scream. “Handle it.”
He looked torn, his hand still on my shoulder. “Go to your suite. Stay there. Lock the door. Don’t let anyone in except us.”
“Ares—”
“Please.” The word came out rough. “Please let me know when you’re safe there, and then I can think.”
I stared at him, stunned. Something did make the unflappable Ares flap and that something was me.
Holy shit.
The limo pulled up to the hotel’s private entrance. Ares was out before it fully stopped, already on his phone coordinating a response.
I sat alone in the back of the limo, watching him disappear into the building, and I wondered if this constant coming and going of men would always be the case. Moments of connection fractured by reality? Intimacy interrupted by business? Four people trying to save a business while the world conspired to pull us apart?
My phone buzzed with a text from Marta:Just saw you trending with three hot billionaires. Living your best life or having a mental breakdown? Answer unclear.
I laughed despite everything. Me:Both. Definitely both.
Marta:Good. Boring is for people who don’t set their lives on fire. I mean this both literally and figuratively. Call me tomorrow. Love you.
I climbed out of the limo and headed for my suite, riding the elevator alone, unlocking my door alone, and collapsing on my sofa alone.
My phone showed three hundred thousand impressions. Media requests. Booking inquiries flooded the system.
Professional triumph. Personal chaos.
This was the story of my life in Vegas.
How would I navigate keeping my job and wanting three men who made my panties melt?
Chapter 12
Ares
The text poppedup while we drove toward the hotel. Neville Wilson said he had info for me and wanted to speak to me in person. This was Neville’s way of indicating that he had sensitive information meant only for me, and I needed to respond.
