5. Nova
Nova
The smoky flavor of the brisket and the ice-cold sweetness of my cocktail were the perfect antidote to the stress of the morning. Sitting out on that rooftop deck with Jax, watching the clouds track across the sky and the busy people below us, felt dangerously easy.
We moved on from work talk to argue about the Avalanche’s defensive pairings, since the game was playing on the big screens all around us.
We debated whether brisket required sauce—it absolutely does—and then completely dismantled Kit Sterling’s corporate structure until we had a bulletproof strategy for the evening.
Once the platter was cleared, I wiped my hands on a napkin and set my empty drink glass down with a definitive click.
“All right,” I declared, sliding my purse strap over my shoulder. “Lunch is handled. Now I need to acquire some tactical weaponry.”
Jax raised an eyebrow, paying the bill and sliding his wallet into his back pocket. “Tactical weaponry? In a barbecue joint?”
“We are going shopping,” I corrected, offering him a sweet, entirely unapologetic smile as I pulled him out toward the stairs.
“If I have to help broker a multi-million-dollar regional contract at an exclusive VIP lounge tonight, I am not doing it in a business suit. And I certainly can’t wear the emerald dress again. Kit already commented on it.”
Jax’s posture stiffened slightly at the mention of Kit’s name, his jaw tightening just a fraction before he forced a relaxed shrug. “Fine. Lead the way. But I’m drawing the line at holding your bags if they’re neon pink like last time. My brothers never stopped poking fun at me.”
I laughed. “That was in, what? Tenth grade?”
He shrugged and had me laughing even more.
We hit the upscale shopping promenade connected to the Apex.
It was a climate-controlled paradise of high-end designers, heavy glass storefronts, and the distinct scent of wealth.
I dragged Jax through three different boutiques, deliberately ignoring the eye-watering price tags because, technically speaking, this fell under the heading of necessary business expenses. Right?
Besides, I had my winnings from the night before to cushion the blow.
Jax was surprisingly patient, leaning against the velvet chairs outside the fitting rooms as he watched me reject dress after dress.
Then I found it in a boutique near the back of the promenade.
It hung on a minimalist rack, practically glowing under the soft gallery lighting.
It was a fluid, liquid-gold silk slip dress.
It had a cowl neckline, an open back that dipped into a sharp V, and a subtle slit up the right thigh that gave it just enough edge to offset the elegance.
It was sophisticated, bold, and screamed high-stakes Vegas luxury.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Jax, snatching the hanger and ducking into the changing room.
The dress slid over my skin like warm water. I zipped it up, adjusted the delicate straps, and turned to look in the full-length mirror. The gold fabric caught every angle of the light, making my skin look luminous and completely transforming me into someone who belonged in the spotlight.
I took a breath, stepped out of the fitting room, and walked into the main lounge area.
“Okay, be brutally honest—”
The words died in my throat. Jax was sitting on the leather bench, and the moment I stepped out, he froze. His arms slowly uncrossed. His crystal blue eyes tracked from the hem of the gold silk up the length of my legs and then over the fit of the waist, before locking directly onto my face.
The air in the boutique suddenly felt entirely too thin.
Nailed it, I thought.
Jax didn’t say a word for three long seconds. He just stared, his chest rising and falling in a slow, heavy breath, a raw, unvarnished intensity in his gaze that made my skin tingle far more than the silk dress did.
“Jax?” I prompted softly, my heart rate spiking. “Do you like it?”
He swallowed, clearing his throat as he forced himself to stand up. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, though he couldn’t quite mask the rough, low edge in his voice. “Buy it.”
“Is it that good?” I teased, trying to break the sudden, suffocating tension. I turned around to show him the back and heard him suck in a deep breath.
Jax paused, his eyes dropping to the low V before snapping back to mine, his jaw set hard. “It’s so you. It’s perfect.” His voice was low.
A thrilled, nervous flutter went off in my stomach.
I turned back toward the fitting room to change, a triumphant smile spreading across my face.
The gold dress was perfect. I knew that tonight, I wasn’t just going to secure the Onyx account.
I was going to see exactly how long Jax Mylonas could keep pretending he wasn’t interested in me as anything other than a friend.
We spent another hour wandering the Strip, enjoying the early afternoon air and the craziness that was Vegas.
“Look at that,” I laughed, pointing toward a garish souvenir shop overflowing with standard Vegas kitsch. “I need to get something for Sofia. A token of my appreciation for her dying under Leonard’s paperwork.”
“If you buy her a light-up slot machine hat, I’m making you carry it,” Jax warned, though he followed me inside anyway.
I ended up finding a ridiculous, oversized glitter pen shaped like a flamingo wearing a showgirl headdress, complete with a tiny marabou feather boa. It was loud, completely impractical, and exactly the kind of thing Sofia would unironically use to sign off on corporate memos just to spite Leonard.
“Perfect,” I declared, tossing it onto the counter. “Tactical weaponry acquired, silly best-friend tribute secured. Now we need to get back before I run out of time to pull off the gold dress.”
By the time we got back to the penthouse suite, the floor-to-ceiling windows were framed by the glittering, golden grid of the evening Strip.
We stepped into the shared space and stopped in our tracks.
Sitting on the coffee table was a massive, arrangement of pure white orchids and pale roses—easily a three-hundred-dollar statement piece. Tucked into the center of the stalks was a heavy, embossed black envelope with my name written across the front in a sharp, authoritative cursive.
My stomach did a tight flip. I walked over and pulled the card from the envelope.
Nova,
A spectacular performance in the boardroom today. Your insight into our international expansion was refreshing. I look forward to exploring exactly how deep your expertise goes tonight.
The concierge at Prime has been notified. Present the enclosed card at the velvet rope, and they will escort you directly to the private wing.
— Kit
I reached into the envelope and pulled out a heavy, matte-black metallic card stamped with the gold Prime insignia.
Jax stood back and scanned the massive floral arrangement, the sweet, heavy scent of the blooms filling the space between us. Then his eyes locked onto the black metallic card in my hand.
The easy, relaxed expression he’d worn all afternoon vanished instantly. His jaw set so hard, a muscle twitched beneath the stubble, and his blue eyes darkened into a dangerous storm-cloud gray.
“Let me guess,” Jax said, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that vibrated right through the quiet room. “A little hospitality from our client?”
I nodded, unsure of what to say that would soothe the frustration from his features.
“Don’t worry, you know I like white and purple peonies, not orchids and roses,” I added.
“I’m going to shower and change,” he said, offering a casual salute before heading toward his room.
Well, damn it. I didn’t want Jax to get the idea that Kit had a chance with me, but the truth was, I was hoping this would be the slight push Jax needed and that my new gold dress was going cause the man of my dreams to finally break the one rule he had held to all this time and fall madly in love with me.
Damn it all.
I crumpled up the note and tossed it in the trash as I walked into my own room to shower and change.
The hot water did nothing to wash away the sudden spike of nerves building under my skin. By the time I stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling off the mirrors, the digital clock on the nightstand read seven-thirty.
I sat at the vanity as I took my time applying a classic smoky eye look and added a bold, deep crimson lip—a stark contrast to the soft, natural look I wore around the office.
Finally, I slipped into the gold dress. The silk felt like liquid fire as it slid down my body, hugging my hips and falling perfectly against the curve of my back.
I put on a pair of strappy gold heels that, thankfully, I had brought with me.
I let my dark hair fall down my back in loose, voluminous waves.
Then I took one last look in the mirror.
I looked like a woman going to war, or a woman looking for trouble. Tonight, I was doing both.
Grabbing my clutch and the heavy black VIP card Kit had sent, I opened my bedroom door and stepped back out into the shared sitting room.
Jax was already there.
He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the glittering neon lights of the Strip with a tumbler of scotch in his hand.
He’d traded the casual flannel for a sharp, midnight-black suit and a dark charcoal dress shirt, worn open at the collar without a tie.
It was an edgier, modern look that suited his broad frame perfectly.
He looked impossibly handsome, dangerous, and entirely out of reach.
The click of my heels against the marble floor made him turn around.
Once again, upon seeing me, Jax froze. The tumbler paused halfway to his mouth.
His blue eyes instantly caught the gold of my dress, darkening until they looked almost entirely black under the dim suite lighting.
His gaze swept down the neck line, lingered heavily on the slit at my thigh, and then slowly traveled back up to my face.
The muscle in his jaw clenched so hard I could see it leap.
“Well?” I asked, keeping my voice steady even though my heart was hammering against my ribs. “Does it fit the VIP dress code?”
Jax swallowed and set his drink down on the side table with a sharp clink. He walked over to me, stopping just a foot away. The scent of his woodsy cologne hit me, warm and intoxicating, entirely erasing the floral perfume I always wore.
“Nova,” he said, his voice a low, rough growl that vibrated directly against my collarbone. “There is no way in hell I’m letting you walk into Kit Sterling’s private lounge looking like that without me standing right next to you all night.”
An electric thrill shot straight through my spine at the sheer intensity in his voice.
I couldn’t speak. Instead, I just offered him a slow smile as I slipped my arm through his.
If he wanted to stand next to me all night, he was more than welcome.
The way he looked now, I knew there’d be women trying to get his attention.
How many girlfriends had he had over the years? Too many. Then again, I’d had my fair share of boyfriends, trying to get Jax out of my system.
Ten minutes later, we stepped out of the private elevator at Prime and entered a hidden sub-level of the resort that wasn’t on any public map. When Jax handed the heavy, matte-black Onyx card to the two security guards flanking a set of double iron doors, they pulled the doors back in unison.
Stepping into the lounge felt like stepping back in time to a golden era of high-stakes luxury, modernized with an edge.
The room was bathed in a low, amber glow, illuminated by crystal chandeliers that looked like frozen explosions of glass.
The walls were lined with dark plush velvet and polished mahogany panels, reflecting the flickering light of an oversized marble fireplace.
As soon as our feet hit the thick crimson carpet, a server in a tailored vest and a cropped skirt approached us holding a silver platter. Resting on it were two crystal coupes filled with a smoking, violet-tinted cocktail.
“Compliments of Mr. Sterling,” the server assured them.
“What is it?” Jax asked.
“A custom lavender-infused champagne martini,” she answered with a smile.
“Thank you,” I said, taking one of the glasses. The liquid was crisp, sweet, and carried a subtle, aromatic bite that went straight to my head.
Jax took the second glass, his eyes scanning the room with a sharp, protective sweep.
The lounge was already buzzing with a very specific, ultra-exclusive crowd.
These weren’t regular Vegas tourists; these were international billionaires, high-rolling tech executives, and European models draped in diamonds.
The room smelled of expensive tobacco, aged leather, and the distinct, heavy perfume of pure wealth.
In the center of the lounge, an opulent ice sculpture carved into the shape of the new Onyx logo rose out of a massive food table.
It was a visual feast. Arrays of fresh bluefin tuna sashimi, tiers of colossal shrimp cocktail, and mounds of beluga caviar served on mother-of-pearl spoons were laid out under soft spotlights.
Wagyu beef sliders topped with shaved black truffles sat on heated silver platters next to artisanal cheeses that were no doubt imported from regions I couldn’t even pronounce.
“Well,” Jax murmured, his mouth brushing close to my ear as he leaned down to be heard over the smooth, low-tempo jazz trio playing in the corner. “Sterling certainly knows how to throw a party for his ego.”
“It’s not an ego trip, Jax. It’s a display of dominance,” I whispered back, taking a slow sip of my drink as I looked around the room. “And right now, I bet we are the only regional agency in the room. We need to find—”
“There you are, Nova.” A smooth, unmistakably cultured voice cut through the ambient chatter.
I turned, my heart doing a sudden, violent flip at the excitement at the possibilities.
Kit Sterling was stepping out from a small group of what looked like a row of models, a half-empty glass of amber liquor in his hand.
He had traded his boardroom suit for a sleek, unbuttoned black silk dress shirt and tailored trousers, much like Jax’s own, and looked effortlessly lethal.
His eyes locked onto me, skipping entirely past the line of women waiting for his attention.
When his gaze registered the liquid-gold dress I was wearing, his steps slowed just a fraction.
A slow, incredibly dangerous smile spread across his handsome face as his head bowed slightly in silent appreciation.
“You look…” Kit murmured, stopping a mere foot away and letting his dark eyes trace the line of the dress before meeting my gaze. Then he reached out, took my hand, lifted it to his lips, and finished his thought. “Absolutely breathtaking.”