Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 107803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I want to say it's not intentional, that I had no idea I was joining the likes of him, but I keep my mouth shut, merely smiling tersely to keep from saying anything. My mother taught me enough to know he isn't the kind of man that takes kindly to being offended.
Naz doesn't dawdle. Pressing his hand to the small of my back, he leads me past the crowd onto the plane. The inside looks bigger than it does on the outside, all cream-colored and wood-paneled, with more than enough seats to accommodate everyone.
Naz stops dead center of the plane and plops down on the end of a long couch, a small two-cushion portion segregated from the rest. I sit down beside him nervously, but he eases some of my anxiety by draping his arm over my shoulder and pulling me closer. He presses a kiss to my hair, his cologne swarming my senses, making me lightheaded, as everyone else boards the plane.
Raymond decides to sit beside me, nothing more than a cushioned armrest separating me from the infamous man. The blonde sits with him as the others file in. I peek at her, unable to fathom what she sees in him.
I know Naz is older than me, and maybe people see our age difference as extreme, but he's still quite youthful, and regal, and so goddamn sexy. There's an attraction with him I can't deny—don't want to deny. But Raymond is much older, maybe old enough to be that woman's grandfather, and has not a smidgen of the sex appeal.
In fact, he looks a little like Shrek to me.
I sit quietly, tucked in at Naz's side, my heart beating frantically in my chest, each thump echoing in my ears, an anxious rhythm I fear everyone around me can hear. They all settle into their seats, chatting, but none of the conversation means anything to me.
I feel invisible, and for that I'm grateful.
The plane takes off after everyone is buckled in. My heart is in my throat as we ascend into the air, my fist clenching Naz's suit coat. My ears pop, my stomach clenching from the altitude.
Nobody else seems bothered by it. In fact, nobody else seems bothered by anything. As soon as we're in the air they return to where they were, picking up conversation right where they left off, like this is nothing to them. My hand loosens the fabric of Naz's jacket, but I don't let go.
I won't let go of him.
His presence is the only thing keeping me from freaking out.
Beside me, Raymond is telling a story, laughing at his own jokes, as everyone around us listens attentively. He's clearly the center of their little world, the sun these men orbit around.
Everyone, that is, except for Naz. He appears to not be paying attention. He tilts his face toward me, his breath fanning against my cheek as he whispers, "You okay?"
I nod.
"You recognize everyone here?"
Brow furrowing, I shake my head. How would I? I only know Raymond, but I don't dare say that out loud. He's sitting close enough that he'd hear me speak his name.
"Huh."
I glance at Naz, his face a few inches away. "What?"
"I'm just surprised."
"You? Surprised?"
He smiles. "It happens every now and then. I just figured you'd know these faces since you recognized Ray."
Just as I suspected, Raymond perks up at the sound of his name. He stops mid-story, diverting his attention. "She recognized me?"
"She did," Naz confirms.
"Nice to know my reputation still precedes me," he says.
"Always will, boss," the guy across from us says. Boss. The word sticks out like a flashing neon sign in the darkness. "As long as Vitale's around to make sure of it, anyway."
I feel Naz tense, his body turning to stone, his arm around me suddenly boulder heavy. I glance at him again, seeing he's glaring at the man who just spoke. Everyone else seems to notice it, too. A few cleared throats and some awkward silent seconds later, the conversation veers back away from us.
Naz still glares, though.
He doesn't relax.
I don't know what the man meant by what he said, how Naz effects Raymond's reputation, but it's clear that Naz didn't like it a bit.
It's a five-hour flight—five long, stuffy hours, as I obsessively look at Naz's watch, counting the minutes. It isn't until we land that I even find out where we're going. I ask Naz a few times but he merely shrugs, leaving me in the dark, until the wheels of the plane touch down again. Naz's arm is still around me, still just as heavy… he hasn't spoken in a while. The others excitedly chatter about this and that, as Naz pulls me tighter to him. "Welcome to Las Vegas."
I turn my head to face him, raising my eyebrows with surprise. "Vegas?"
He nods.
"What are we doing here?"
"What else do you do in Sin City?" he asks. Before I can respond, his hand comes up and grasps my chin, holding me there as he leans down. The tip of his nose brushes against mine before he tilts his head and kisses me—softly, sweetly, barely touching my lips, as he whispers, "sin."
I'm blushing from his public display of affection, but no one notices. They're intentionally not noticing, from the way everyone avoids even making eye contact with Naz now. It reminds me of the fundraiser, how even when crammed in with so many others, Naz has a bubble surrounding him.
He's his own universe.
There are limos anticipating our arrival. I step off of the plane and stand on the tarmac, my body stiff and head foggy from being up in the air all afternoon. The sun is just now going down here, bathing the sky in an orange glow, casting everything around us in shadows. It's warm, almost stiflingly so, but still I shiver when Naz pauses behind me, his hand resting on my hip. People flow around us like we're rocks in a rushing river, unloading bags and taking them to the awaiting cars.
I'm not surprised when Raymond pauses beside us. He seems to be drawn in our direction, his body language nonchalant, but his voice is serious when he speaks. "Don't do it."