Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 56831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Asking him to go on a little road trip with me must have seemed like such an odd request. It had been impulsive and not at all like me, but I had to shoot my shot. Never mind that I’d claimed to have sworn off men and dating. When I’d made that pledge, I never imagined a man like Marcus might come into my life.
It wasn’t just that he was handsome. He was kind, too. I was impressed by the way he’d listened to me, then sat at my bedside all night to make sure I was okay. He was something special, and I looked forward to spending time with him and getting to know him.
But first, I really needed him to show up.
4
Marcus
What the hell was I doing?
Had I really agreed to go away with the brother of my sworn enemy? And what would happen if Romy found out who I was?
Actually, there was no mystery there—he’d hate me for the things that had been done to his family in my name. Never mind that my crew had gone rogue and done things I never would have condoned, including smashing up his mother’s bar and taking his brother hostage. That was still on me, and Romy wouldn’t be interested in excuses about my men running amok while I was on the east coast.
Despite that—despite everything—I really wanted to spend some time with him. He was sweet, beautiful, and intriguing, and being with him felt good, so why not? After all, it was just a couple of days.
I’d been surprised when he asked me to go away with him, but that actually worked out perfectly. If we tried to spend time together in Vegas, I’d constantly have to look over my shoulder. Even though his brother was currently in San Francisco, Adriano Dombruso had confronted me a couple of months ago with at least two dozen relatives and hired guns in tow. I had no idea which of those people were a regular part of Romy’s life, but any of them could recognize me and spill my secret. Then Romy would despise me, and his gangster relatives would probably try to shoot me. Obviously, all of that was best avoided.
So, getting out of Vegas with him made sense. Besides, I could really use some down-time, and I didn’t have many chances to step outside Mario Greco’s high-pressure world. I’d spent the last two years trying to fulfill the promises I’d made to a dead man—who’d left me both a fortune and a mountain of responsibilities I couldn’t ignore—and it was wearing me down.
But I really didn’t want to think about that right now.
Instead, I returned to the Bellagio and focused on getting ready for my trip. I showered and shaved, then put on a black t-shirt and jeans, along with a vintage motorcycle jacket. I liked this version of myself, and I didn’t get to see it very often. Lately, it had all been about business suits, meetings, and deals, and I was tired of playing that part.
Once I was dressed, I frowned at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. When I tried to fix my hair I made it worse, so I tried again. Now it was a real mess. After battling my hair for another minute or two, I made myself step away from the mirror and leave it alone.
I was nervous to the point of feeling slightly queasy, probably because all of this was so unfamiliar to me. I never dated…though I might possibly be wrong in thinking this was a date. Maybe Romy had just asked me to come along as a friend. And maybe I should really stop overthinking it.
After repacking my luggage and checking out of the hotel, I drove to his apartment. He was waiting outside for me, dressed in jeans and a dark blue hoodie that was so big, it would have fit me with room to spare.
A look of relief crossed his features when I pulled up and cut the engine. Had he expected me to be a no-show?
“This is such a nice car,” he said, as he stuffed a backpack and his small duffle bag into the nearly nonexistent back seat.
“It’s a rental. Want to drive?”
His eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”
I climbed out of the Porsche and held the door for him, and he was smiling as he slid behind the wheel. He then proceeded to obey every traffic law on our way out of town. Even once we were out on the open road, he stayed within ten miles of the speed limit.
“Go ahead and open it up if you want to,” I said. “If you get a speeding ticket, I’ll pay it.”
“I shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be safe.”
“There’s nobody out here, and this is a flat stretch of highway. We’ll be fine.”