I chuckled at the thought, and it pissed her off that much more.
“Either you were trying to scare me because you wanted me to leave just like every other night, or you were trying to get lucky in a closet that smelled like bleach and mildew.”
The closet did smell gross. She had me there.
“I’m not that kind of man.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I’ve seen a lot of shitty poker faces this week, but yours might be the worst of them.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. It was such a foreign sensation—tossing my head back so hard that my hair spilled out of the bun I had tied it up in as my face broke into a grin. “I swore off relationships a long time ago.”
“Just because you swore off relationships doesn’t mean you swore off fucking.”
I liked hearing that filthy word slip from her holy lips.
Guilt nipped at my jugular. “Do I really seem like the kind of guy who would drag a woman into a closet and take advantage of her?”
I knew what the answer was. The answer should have been a resoundingyes. I had worked hard to curate a persona that struck fear into anyone who had the misfortune of laying eyes on me.
But Amelia hadn’t run. The moment I saw her for the first time, she had flirted with me. Not once had she been afraid.
“You seem like the kind of guy who would work at the Four Horsemen,” she said as she reached for her bag. The side of her hand brushed mine.
Her hands were so perfect. Soft and delicate. Long fingers that moved like the most graceful dancers. There was no dried blood beneath her fingernails. No callouses from years of pain. No cuts and scrapes.
My hands told a different story entirely, but she didn’t jerk away. Instead, she let her pinky slide along the side of mine. That’s when I realized that I had closed my eyes at her touch. I had exhaled. I had relaxed my shoulders.
I opened my eyes to find Amelia studying me like I was an amusing equation that she was about to best.
I knew I was playing with fire. If anyone saw me down here with her and did even a basic online search, they’d know that Dr. Amelia Hawthorne was the sister of a man on John Valentine’s list.
I couldn’t let that happen.
Maybe there was some shred of me that still believed in the greater good. That part of me was sleep-deprived and delusional.
The logical part of me believed in her. It believed in someone who saw past a façade and offered a moment of her time to sit in quiet companionship.
I hoped this was the last time I saw her. I hoped she never came back, if only to protect herself. I hoped I never knew another thing about her after this moment. And I hoped the image of her sun-kissed cheeks and soft smile never left my memory.
I curled my pinky around hers in a silent promise but avoided her gaze. “Stay out of trouble, little fox. Even the most clever can fall into traps.”
Amelia didn’t say a word as I got up and walked back toward the strip of buildings, but I felt her eyes watching me.
I did my best to wipe off the sand. John always complained when it was tracked into the casino. But he was also the micromanaging dumbass who put carpet in a fucking casino.
It didn’t matter how much elbow grease the janitorial team mustered up—the carpet was ninety percent liquor stains and blood. I had a hunch that, after a few more years, the flooring would be rather stain-resistant.
Walking back into the Four Horsemen was like stepping into an alternate dimension. There were no clocks or windows, save for the clocks in the security room. Floor staff weren’t even allowed to wear watches, just in case a guest asked for the time. Taking away someone’s sense of time meant they’d play longer and risk more.
If I wasn’t in the security room, the only way I could find out the time was by simply waiting for the next rotation.
I made it through two rotations of hoping Amelia had decided to get back in her car and go home when she walked through the doors.
Dammit.
I had just left my spot working the door. If I’d waited a little longer, I could have forced her to leave. Instead, I was stuck in the security room. And since flagging the guy at the door to turn her away would have raised even more questions, all I could do was sit there.
Seeing her on that fucking security feed was my favorite show. One I didn’t want to like but couldn’t help but watch anyway.
