“You’re blushing,” Jude comments, forcing me to palm my cheeks. "Oh my God, Sie, you really like this guy?"
"No," I say defensively before I am reminded that I am supposed to like the guy, seeing we're getting married and all. "I mean, of course I like him."
Jude doesn’t grill me anymore about Pope and thankfully leaves me to cook in silence. An hour later, I’m done preparing the food and setting the table when the front door opens. Jude and I turn to watch our mom walk in, but she’s not alone.
“Hey, kids, look who I ran into on my way up." She walks in and moves aside and my eyes widen when I spot Pope. Those intense eyes find mine and I feel a shiver roll down my back. “Turns out we were heading to the same house.”
“I hope I’m not too late.”
“No,” I say, sliding my hands into my apron, then I realize that I am still wearing my apron so I hurry to take it off. Jude reaches out to straighten my hair when I muss it up and I should hate the amusement I read in his eyes, but a part of me warms up to see his eyes light up with more than just sadness. “Dinner is ready. I was just setting up the table.”
“So, you’re not going to introduce us to your fine gentleman?” my mother teases as she takes off her coat.
“Oh, right.” I step toward Pope, linking my hand with his. “Mom, Jude, this is Pope Cassidy. My fiancé. Pope, this is my mother, Elise Ford, and my little brother, Jude.”
I expect them to hate him, for the dinner to be stiff and awkward, but I find myself slack jawed when Pope charms my mother and brother throughout the dinner, presenting himself as a normal harmless man as if he doesn't run one of the largest casinos in Vegas. Not to mention the fact that he’s the president of a motorcycle club. But instead of that information raising red flags, it only seems to excite Jude. By the time dinner is over, the three are practically best friends, waving me off when I prepare to leave with Pope.
The happiness in their faces gnaws at me. To think that I’ve lied to the only family I have left about my relation to Pope keeps me quiet the entire ride to the casino.
I just lied to my family. Pope and I sat across my mother and brother, pretended that we were in love and one day, I'll break their hearts when our little deal ends. What will happen if they get too attached to the man and our relationship gets severed two years later?
I didn’t think of this. Maybe I should’ve.
The car stopping pulls my focus back to the present and I watch Pope climb out, walk to my door and open it, offering his hand for me to take. Odd. It’s almost like we’re a serious couple and when he does things like this…
“Let’s go in,” he says, closing his hand over mine when I take his. “Maybe then you’ll tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”
We walk past the busy casino floors, the loud music and the chaos to the bank of elevators. Pope keeps his hand firmly on mine and I expect him to take us to his office but I watch with surprise as he takes out a keycard before pressing it against a rectangular device next to the elevator’s control panel. "The top floors are restricted to anyone without a key card. Access for thegeneral public ends at the fifth floor," he says, and I watch him press the button for the twelfth floor. “All floors above the fifth operate as space for the Steel Sinners.”
“You all live here?” I ask, surprised by this. How in the world do they get any sleep around such chaos?
Before he can respond, the doors open to reveal a long hallway but when I step out, I am yet again surprised to see only two doors. With his hand firmly in mine, Pope pulls me toward the left and I don’t know what to expect from an apartment that exists above a casino. The door swings inward with a soft almost silent click and when we step in, all noise fades away. The heat between us, the chaos of Vegas gives way to cooler air and blessed silence.
"It's quiet in here," I whisper, stepping in to see a space that is the antithesis of everything I imagined someone like Pope would live. I half expected over-the-top displays of wealth and a bit of the red and black from his office but instead, I am met by an expanse of muted tones and clean lines. The entrance hall is a study of minimalism; a polished concrete floor reflecting the soft lighting with a single modern sculpture perched on a sleek white console table.
Pope lets go of my hand to let me step further in and the living room unfolds before me. Walls are kept in neutral shades, broken only by the expansive windows that offer a panoramic view of the city. The furniture is sparse—a plush, low-slung sofa in the shade of dove gray, a pair of leather armchairs positioned just so and a coffee table that seems to be carved from a single block of stone. There are no family photos, no personal knick-knacks, nothing to suggest that this is a lived-in space. It’salmost like this room was designed to be admired, not lived in, and I imagine the other rooms are the same way, too.
I turn to take in the rest of the space. From the way light plays on the textured walls to the flawless craftsmanship of the furniture and the understated elegance of the few objects that adorn the space. My gaze drifts to the far end of the room where a dining area is subtly defined by a large, circular table surrounded by sleek modern chairs. Above it, a single chandelier casts a warm glow over the space.
I see the kitchen too, through an open doorway and it’s a vision of stainless-steel appliances and minimalistic designs. It’s ironic, really, how the place can feel both inviting and intimidating. This kind of wealth, I could only ever dream about.
“I don’t spend much time in here.”
I whip around at his voice, surprised to find him standing much closer than I was anticipating and that sends my heart jumping to my throat. “Then where do you?”
Pope slides his hands into his pockets and walks to the windows, staring out at the bright lights. “I spend time either in the office or down at the clubhouse which is on the sixth floor. Of course, you can decorate the place however you like since it's going to be your home for the next two years." When he starts moving back toward me, I feel the fast beats of my heart and I can look at nothing but him. "Come with me, I’ll show you around.”
I let him take my hand to show me around the massive space, talking one thing or the other but I can hardly focus on anything but the hand firmly gripping mine, reminding me once again how new I am to this relationship thing. Do we have to hold hands even when no one's watching?
“You seemed distracted at dinner today?”
His voice pulls me back to the present and I realize that sometime during the trip, we arrived in the master bedroom. "Oh," I flush, looking around the large room, at anything but the large king bed seated at the center of the room. Our bed. While signing our contract, Pope mentioned that we’d share a room and it made sense to me at the time. The goal is to stay married and make a baby before the year is over. What better way than to share a room and a bed, but the reality of it feels so different.
“Sienna.”
“Huh?”
“We need to talk,” he says, squeezing my hand and reminding me yet again of our connection. His hand feels warm and strong in mine and…he’s so close. There is a buzzing under my skin and I am keenly aware of his proximity. I tear my eyes away from those intense eyes and to his mouth—that firm mouth that hasn’t kissed me again since that time in his office.
