2. Jax
Jax
How in the hell was I going to focus during this trip?
I sat back in the first-class seat, swirling the ice in my scotch while the steady drone of the airplane engine filled the cabin.
To my left, Nova was practically vibrating.
Her tray table was down, her tablet was propped up, and her fingers were flying across the attached brightly colored keyboard as she cleared out her final task lists for her clients.
To be honest, the color-coordinated schedule she’d created looked a little intimidating when I tried to make sense of it all. Instead, I focused on my drink and the hockey game playing on the screen in front of me.
Every now and then, she’d chew on her lower lip—a habit she’d had since I’d met her—completely oblivious to the fact that it was destroying my sanity. It was by far one of the sexiest moves she had. That and the way she laughed. Intoxicating.
I took a slow sip of my drink, letting the alcohol burn down my throat, trying to force my brain to focus on something other than wanting to taste her.
This pitch for Onyx was my moment to solidify my place at Gold Standard Media and show my dad I could actually run the place one day.
But truth be told, my mind was fractured.
Back home, my father’s health was taking a serious dive.
James Mylonas was an institution, a man who had built Gold Standard from the ground up, but lately, the fire in his eyes had been replaced by exhaustion.
Dad’s best friend and doctor had given our mother a warning last month. “Get your husband on the golf course more and out of the boardroom.” He’d also given her a bunch of diet restrictions my mother was adamant about and my father ignored completely.
My brothers and I had already sat down for a brutal, quiet conversation about Dad finally taking a break, stepping away even if only temporarily. But that left a massive, looming question mark over the future of the agency.
My oldest brother, Rick, was out in California, entirely checked out of the family drama because he was too busy running his own massively successful marketing firm. He didn’t need GSM.
My younger brother, Chris, was currently buried under medical school textbooks, completely on track to become a doctor. He didn’t want anything to do with marketing.
Which left me. The reliable one. The one son who’d stayed behind, learned the ropes, and had kept the gears turning.
But looking out the window at the blanket of clouds below, I couldn’t shake the heavy, suffocating question: Did I even want to take over GSM at this point in my life?
Was I running toward my own dream or just filling a vacuum because I was the only one left standing?
I glanced back over at Nova.
She reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her brow furrowed as she cross-referenced her spreadsheet.
If the situation with GSM was a tangled mess, my feelings for Nova were an absolute minefield.
For years, I had secretly crushed on her.
Scratch that—“crush” was a safe, childish word for the quiet, agonizing way I had loved this girl since before I had hit puberty.
When she had marched up to the deep end of the Cherry Hills pool all those summers ago and practically demanded our friendship, she’d inadvertently stolen a piece of me I never got back.
But I had kept my mouth shut. I’d played the part of the steady, dependable best friend because losing her entirely was a risk I refused to calculate. Her friendship meant more to me than I could ever put into words.
Now she was a foot away from me, smelling like flowers and determination, heading to a city designed for poor impulse control.
Nova clicked her tablet shut with a satisfied snap, turning her bright eyes toward me. “All right, bossman. GSM’s minor fires are officially extinguished. Let’s talk Onyx.” She rubbed her hands together then pulled out her copy of her binder.
I forced an easy, practiced smile and set my drink down, praying my heart rate wouldn’t give me away. “Lay it on me, shark.”
We spent the next hour dissecting the upcoming presentation that I’d be making.
Nova broke down the target demographics for the new resort with precision, pointing out how Onyx could capture the high-end luxury market without losing the classic Vegas edge.
She was brilliant, sharp, and so intensely focused that I almost managed to forget how close she was sitting.
Almost.
Once the business talk wound down, we turned back to the live sports channel. The Colorado Avalanche were playing, and within ten minutes, the professional veneer on the both of us cracked completely.
“A buck says Rantanen scores on this power play,” Nova challenged, her eyes gleaming with competitive fire.
“You’re on,” I muttered, leaning back.
He didn’t score, he passed it off, and MacKinnon slammed it home.
“That doesn’t count, it was an assist,” I argued.
“A point is a point, Mylonas. Hand it over.”
By the time the plane began its descent over the glowing grid of the Nevada desert, Nova had cleaned me out of twenty bucks through a series of increasingly ridiculous micro-wagers.
She was gloating, counting the money in her lap with a triumphant smirk that made me want to pull her across the armrest and kiss her stupid.
When we landed, the dry desert heat hit us like an open oven. Because Onyx was still a massive, active construction site of steel and glass further up the Strip, Christian Sterling had booked us a suite at his flagship property, Apex.
Apex was the definition of modern opulence.
The lobby was a cavernous expanse of polished white marble, soaring ceilings, and towering digital art installations that mirrored the movement of the guests.
It didn’t feel like the smoky, neon-drenched casinos I’d been to before; it felt like a playground for billionaires.
Our accommodations were on the penthouse level.
When the bellhop opened the double doors to the suite, I had to suppress a whistle.
The shared sitting room was massive, anchored by a plush velvet sectional, a sleek wet bar stocked with top-shelf liquor, and a floor-to-ceiling glass wall offering a panoramic view of the Strip.
Flanking either side of the shared space were two private bedrooms, each with its own en-suite bathroom.
The style was a mixture of class and edginess. There were occasional hints of apex predators here and there. Pictures of wolves and large cats.
It was spacious, beautiful, and completely professional—yet the fact that we were sharing an entrance made the air feel instantly thicker.
“I’m going to wash off the plane grime,” Nova announced, already wheeling her color-coordinated luggage toward the left bedroom. “Give me twenty minutes.”
“Take your time. We’ve got nothing on the books until tomorrow,” I said, heading to the right.
Since our meeting with Mr. Sterling wasn’t until mid-morning, we’d agreed to spend our first afternoon and evening eating, drinking, and introducing Nova to the casino floor. I stripped out of my travel clothes. Off the clock, my style leaned a lot edgier than the business suits my job demanded.
I pulled on a pair of new jeans and a charcoal gray tee, grabbed my leather jacket, and laced up my favorite boots. I pushed my hair back, realizing I needed another haircut as I checked my watch, then I stepped back out into the sitting room.
A second later, the door to the other bedroom opened.
My breath caught directly in my throat.
Nova stepped out of her room, and for a terrifying three seconds my brain entirely short-circuited.
Gone was the rule-following junior associate in the sensible office slacks.
She had changed into a slinky, form-fitting emerald green summer dress that hit her mid-thigh and was hanging off her toned shoulders from delicate spaghetti straps.
Her dark hair fell in soft waves around her bare shoulders, and she’d added a pair of killer heels that made her legs look miles long.
She looked dangerous. Beautiful. An absolute firecracker.
“Well?” Nova asked, spinning around playfully, though a small hint of nervousness flickered in her eyes. “Too much for a casual time on the casino floor?”
“No,” I choked out, clearing my throat quickly to find my normal voice. “No, you look… incredible.” I swallowed and tried not to sound like an idiot.
A bright, triumphant flush spread across her cheeks, and she grabbed her clutch. “Lead the way.”
We hit the casino with a vengeance. First, I took her to Prime, the notoriously expensive steakhouse hidden in the back of the VIP lounge. Since everything was on the books for our trip, the corporate card was going to get a lot of use.
If it had just been me, I would have ordered dinner in my room and probably hung out all night watching the game. But since I knew this was Nova’s first time in Sin City, I was determined to show her what all the hype was about.
Over dry-aged ribeyes and a bottle of cabernet that cost more than I wanted to worry about, the tension bled away, replaced by the familiar, easy laughter we’d shared since childhood.
Afterward, it was time for the main event. The casino floor was a sensory overload of chiming and clinking slot machines, and low, ambient music mixed with all the voices of people gambling. I steered her toward a low-limit blackjack table that was relatively quiet.
“All right, rule follower,” I said, leaning over her shoulder as she took a seat.
The scent of her perfume was driving me crazy, but I forced myself to focus on the cards.
“Here’s the breakdown. You know that the goal is twenty-one.
The dealer has to hit on a soft seventeen.
You’ve got your chips?” she held them up. “Place your bet here…”
I spent the next hour coaching her through the basic strategy, watching her eyes light up every time she doubled down and won. She was a natural, calculating the odds with the same meticulous brain she used for her marketing spreadsheets.
Next, we moved to the roulette wheel, the chaotic heartbeat of the casino. We continued to enjoy the endless drinks that were being delivered to us as we shifted between tables.
“This one is pure chaos. No logic, just luck,” I explained, placing my hand on the small of her back to guide her through the crowding onlookers.
The touch sent a jolt straight up my arm, but I kept my voice steady.
“Red or black. Odds or evens. Or, if you’re feeling dangerous, pick a single number. ”
Nova looked at the spinning wooden wheel, then at the layout of numbers. She reached into her chip stack, selected a heavy black chip, and placed it squarely on number eleven.
“Eleven?” I asked, looking down at her.
She glanced up at me, a soft, knowing smile playing on her lips that made my chest tighten. “The age I was when my luck changed.”
I chuckled and watched as the croupier spun the ball. It rattled violently against the metal dividers, bouncing past the red, skipping over the black, before finally clicking into a dead stop.
Black eleven.
The table erupted. Nova gasped, throwing her arms around my neck in a burst of pure excitement. I caught her by the waist, lifting her slightly as she laughed against my chest. Holding her like this, surrounded by the flashing lights and the roar of the casino, I realized the absolute truth.
Onyx was a massive account, but Nova was the only prize in Vegas that actually mattered to me.
My biggest hurdle was overcoming my fear of our future and breaking a few of her carefully laid out rules.