“That still remains to be seen,” I mutter under my breath.
Gio jumps into the car next to me and presses his foot on the gas. The car lurches forward as he shifts, swerving around cars.
“I guess I should have been more worried that I’d end up a mangled wreck in a tragic car accident than being chopped up into a million pieces,” I say.
“So tell me why you were so desperate to keep away from The Golden Girls back there,” he says, zooming onto I-215 toward Las Vegas.
I twist my ponytail around my finger, trying not to stare at his profile and the chiseled jaw I long to graze with my fingertips. “I wasn’t desperate. I just have someplace to be.”
“Like the rest of us,” he quips, signaling and swerving into the left lane.
“She was kind of a talker, too,” I say, stretching my legs out as far as they’ll go in front of me.
“And what’s the problem with that? You don’t talk back?”
“Well, I wasn’t really given the chance.” I smirk, shielding my eyes with my hand as the sunshine beats down on me through the window. Even though it’s tinted, it isn’t enough to prevent the light assault on my eyes. “She was hard to stop once she got going. I got a little tired of listening. Whatever. Call me a bitch for it. Still…” I sigh. “She was so happy to spend some time with her friends. Except for the one whose asshole husband wouldn’t let her come out here.”
“I bet she’s the hot one,” he muses, a sexy smirk lifting his lips. “Husband is jealous, doesn’t want her picking anyone up at one of the early-bird specials or slot tournaments.”
I giggle. “Yeah, maybe. It’s just cool that she has a group of friends to hang with. Sounds like they’d been friends for a really long time.”
“So you’re a busy lady, you don’t like to talk, and you have no friends.” He lifts an eyebrow as he turns to check me out again. “And you were suspicious of me?”
I roll my eyes. “I have friends, thank you very much. Just not, you know, super close ones I grew up with. I keep a very small circle.” Like so tight, nobody other than Olga and Uncle Boris can push through. Let’s face it. Nobody else could handle me, and I’m not so sure I’d want them to anyway. “How about you? How tight is your circle?”
He flashes me a sidelong glance. “Damn tight. I don’t really have friends either. I have business associates. And brothers.”
I nod. “That must be nice,” I say. “How many?”
“Three. It gets loud when we’re together.”
“Well, you’re Italian, so…” I snicker, kind of startled that I made a joke. I’m not really the jokey type.
“Aha, so you picked up on my accent.”
“The accent, the clothes, the car, the…” I twist around, pretending to get a closer look. “Wait, are you wearing the Italian horn around your neck? Or a cross?”
“Oh, shit. You’ve really got me pegged, don’t you?” He chuckles and the sound reverberates through my insides, just like it did last night. I take a deep breath, inhaling his spicy scent. I bite back the moan that threatens to slip from my lips.
I don’t have him pegged, actually, but my God, I wish I did…
And then anger clutches me, forcing the thought out of my lust-filled mind, and I want to punch him in the arm and ask him why the fuck he can’t see who I really am?
This little back and forth banter…how can he not remember?
Argh!
I feel less than invisible right now, and while it is exactly what I’m going for, work-wise, it makes me feel small and insignificant to Gio. I ran away from Velvet Lounge last night…ran from him…and he doesn’t seem affected at all, even after what we did.
That makes me feel nothing short of pathetic.
Like I wasted the hours tossing and turning and replaying our salacious encounter.
“I guess everyone needs a good party now and again.”
“What?” I ask, his voice yanking me out of my frenzied thoughts.
He turns to give me a quick look. “I was just saying that everyone needs a little bit of Vegas every once in a while, even The Golden Girls. Must make them feel younger, zippier, peppier.” He flashes a sidelong glance at me. “You don’t like to talk, but you’re not so great with the listening thing, either. Just saying.”
“Sorry, I’m just a little preoccupied.” I tap my fingers on the screen of my phone, anxious to find out more details about this job. Uncle Boris told me to call him once I was settled at the hotel and he’d give me the details.
“Hey, I didn’t ask you where you’re going,” Gio says as he pulls off of the interstate heading toward the Vegas Strip.
“You didn’t.”
“I also didn’t ask your name.”
“Right again,” I say. “You look a lot smoother than you actually are, just in case you were wondering.”
“I don’t get out much.”
“I find that highly unlikely,” I say with an eye roll. “But fine, I’ll play. My name is Anya and I’m headed to the Bellagio.”
“The Bellagio?” he snips. “Why the hell would you go to that shithole?”
“Because that’s where my reservation is,” I say. “Why do you think it’s a shithole? It’s gorgeous!”
“It’s so fucking twenty years ago!”
I snicker. “You sound like a hotel snob.”
“I just know what I like,” he says, slowing to a stop at a light. He winks at me, a wicked twinkle in the depths of his bright blue eyes. “Now, Anya, what are your plans while you’re here in town?” He pulls the Ferrari into the long driveway leading up to the Bellagio and slows next to the curb, the red and gold overhang packed with people and cars and rolling luggage carts.
“Well, the plan is to nail an upcoming job interview.” I stare at him, hard, my eyes searching for any sign of recognition in his expression.
Nada.
What the hell?
My ass, he doesn’t get out much.
Guys who don’t get out much would definitely remember something about the face and body of a girl they hooked up with the night before!
“Then what?”
My breath hitches as his blue eyes darken and he leans toward me the slightest bit. “Then I guess I’d start work.”
“You gonna be shacking up here for long?” he asks, nodding at the hotel.
“I guess I’ll find out in a few hours,” I murmur, my eyes dropping to where his fingers sit on the floor shift. Such long, thick fingers. I remember them so very well…
“I guess I will, too,” he says with a smile that makes my heart hammer against my chest. What does that even mean? And why do I even care? I have one objective while I’m out here… and it doesn’t include this guy.
Or any guy, for that matter!
I have to keep my head focused.
Uncle Boris needs me. I have to do this for him…and for Maks.
I need to remember who I am and what is expected of me.
I don’t have the luxury of getting tangled up in some hot guy’s web.
I’m the black widow, for fuck’s sake!
Then Gio backs against his door, shoves it open and hops out, stopping to grab my bags from the trunk. Then he jogs around to my side and pulls open the passenger door. When he holds out his hand to help me out of the car, despite myself, I take it. The immediate electrical current that shoots up my arm almost makes me gasp as I step onto the cobblestones.
Holy crap, he had to have felt that!
I place my hands on his arms, stepping toward him, completely consumed by his fiery irises. I can feel his biceps tense under my fingertips and his hands move to my hips, seemingly oblivious to the hustle and bustle around us.