Chapter 11
SOFIA
The second we deplane in Vegas, I start sweating.
My blouse sticks to my back before we even make it to the car, and I instantly regret everything I packed for this trip.
I was going for New York chic, not Vegas hot.
Now I’m praying to whatever god will listen that my setting spray holds my makeup together.
“Jesus,” I mutter as we slide into the town car waiting for us, mercifully freezing inside. “Is this the tenth circle of hell?”
“Depends on who you ask.” Dominic chuckles, looking down at his phone, thankfully, and not at my sweaty, frizzed-out mess.
“Please tell me all of our meetings are inside,” I beg. “Otherwise, I might melt.”
He smiles again but doesn’t answer, which isn’t a good sign. If I have to suffer this heat after already being queasy on the plane, I just might kill someone. Dominic is the closest, which makes him the most likely target.
“It’s just two days,” he reminds me.
The car pulls away from the private landing strip, and we head out through the desert.
It’s already getting dark, so there isn’t much to see.
How can it be this goddamn hot when the sun isn’t even up?
Then, like a beacon in the distance, the Vegas Strip swims into view, almost overwhelming against the blackness of the desert.
I feel like a child, pressing my nose to the window for a better look as we roll through it all, past casinos and restaurants and luxury hotels.
It’s still early here, only 8:30, but with the time change, I’m beat.
As fun as it is to be in a city I’ve never seen, all I want is to sink into a cool bed and shut the world out.
“Impressive, no?” Dominic mutters to me, without even looking up.
“How would you know?” I ask. “Your eyes are glued to your phone.”
He smirks. “This isn’t my first time in Vegas, Sofia.”
I just roll my eyes and sit back for the rest of the drive. We finally pull up to the hotel, and the driver opens my door and lets me out. Dominic follows, gracefully adjusting his suit. The moment we’re out of the car, an important-looking man steps forward to greet us.
“Mr. Vieri,” he greets. “Ms. Bellini. Welcome to Las Vegas.”
“Julian,” Dominic answers as congenially as he can. “Thanks for having us.”
The two men shake hands before two bellhops appear, seemingly from out of nowhere, and grab our bags. Then, the man escorts us through the massive lobby, past a bank of elevators, and to a private lift that requires his key card.
Dominic doesn’t react at all, so this must be completely normal to him, but my head is reeling. There have to be hundreds of people milling around the lobby. The check-in line is long, and plenty of the tourists already look drunk and angry.
“Is this your first time in Las Vegas, Ms. Bellini?” Julian asks me.
“It is,” I squeak out. I do somehow manage to stop myself before I tell him it’s my first time leaving New York.
“I have lots of recommendations if you’d like to see the Strip this evening.”
“All I want to see is my room,” I tell him off-handedly, too tired to care if I’m being rude.
Dominic chuckles next to me.
“Very good, ma’am,” Julian says, ever the professional.
When the elevator opens, we all step inside. Julian swipes his card again, and the car starts moving without him pressing a single button. It’s a fairly long ride, and I realize we must be going all the way to the top.
When the doors open, we’re in a penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the Vegas Strip, marble floors gleam, and the furniture is more luxurious than anything I’ve ever seen. There’s a small kitchen and dining area too. Thankfully, the two bedrooms sit on opposite sides.
The bellhops wait patiently, and Dominic looks at me expectantly.
“Which room do you want?” he asks.
“Oh.” I blink rapidly and look between the two. From where I’m standing, they look exactly the same to me. I just pick one. “That one,” I answer lamely.
“Very good,” our guide answers, snapping for one of the bellhops to take my small bag to the room I’ve chosen, while the other heads toward Dominic’s room.
“If you need anything at all,” Julian says to Dominic, “you know where to find me.”
Dominic nods and shakes his hand again. I’m pretty sure there’s a wad of cash there, but it isn’t my place to notice or care. I just mumble a goodnight and head off to my room.
“We’ll have breakfast at six,” Dominic calls to me. “And then we’re leaving for our meeting at seven.”
I just nod and throw him a thumbs-up as I make my way to the luxurious bed waiting for me. I’m so tired and wrung out that I don’t even change or take off my makeup. I collapse onto the bed and let the cool covers swallow me whole.
We’re only supposed to be here for two days. I can handle that. I just need to get through a few meetings and then I never have to worry about sharing a penthouse with Dominic again.
My stomach is still sensitive, so I raid the minibar for ginger ale and crackers.
Dominic can afford it. It’s the least he can do for dragging me here.
I finally force myself to shower, if only to rinse off the sweat, then wrap myself in the world’s fluffiest towel.
I climb into bed, kill the lights, and have one of the best sleeps of my entire life.
The next morning, I’m up before the sun.
I check my phone and see that it’s already ninety degrees.
I sigh and get up, dressing in the only outfit I brought, which hopefully holds up against the heat.
I meet Dominic at six sharp in the private dining room.
There’s already a cart full of food and a carafe of coffee.
“This is fancy,” I say carefully.
“Stick with me, you’ll get used to it.” He smirks.
I don’t see how I’ll ever get used to this, but I smile anyway and lift one of the dish covers to see what we have. It’s a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and an assortment of pastries. My stomach is still in knots, so I grab some toast and a few eggs and sit down.
We eat in silence, which feels wrong. The last few weeks, it’s been easy to avoid Dominic as much as possible, but not talking when we’re sitting at the same table feels strange.
“I put the updated contracts for the Keller meeting in the blue folder. I flagged the resort management agreement because section eight references the wrong revenue split.”
His hand stills on his coffee. “Show it to me,” he demands.
I pull out the contracts and hand one to him.
“The agreement says Vieri Holdings takes eighteen percent after operating costs. The summary deck says twenty-two percent. I assumed the eighteen percent was old, but the date on the agreement is current.”
His face hardens, his jaw tightening. “Where did this come from?” he asks.
“Ardent sent it over last night,” I tell him. “It came straight from their legal team.”
He stares at the page for a long second before picking up his phone with a disgruntled sigh.
“Rafe,” he says as soon as the call connects. “I’m forwarding you the Ardent contract. Look at section eight. Find out who changed the revenue split and why our legal team missed it.”
He hangs up and stands.
“Let’s go,” he says, not even noticing I haven’t finished my breakfast. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
We arrive at the meeting fifteen minutes later, and it’s blessedly in an air-conditioned conference room.
For the first hour, I’m reminded what I love so much about this job.
Negotiations fly, and I take diligent notes.
I like watching Dominic work, even when he’s tearing into someone over a perceived slight.
Dominic turns a boardroom full of men into squirming, nervous participants. In Vegas, no less. It’s fascinating and also a little terrifying. Who the hell do I work for?
Meanwhile, I try to make myself as invisible as possible.
I’ve never seen this version of Dominic up close.
He’s all sharp edges and cold patience. I’ve watched him command rooms before, but never like this.
He never raises his voice, because he doesn’t have to.
Everyone here is attuned to his slightest shift in posture, and they rearrange themselves accordingly.
“I don’t know what happened,” one of the men tells Dominic. “It’s probably a formatting error.”
“That’s not good enough,” Dominic tells him, “Try again.”
The man swallows hard as another chimes in.
“I’m sure what Patrick means is that he’s going to get to the bottom of it,” says an older man.
Dominic turns his head toward the man and narrows his eyes.
“If that’s what he meant, then that’s what he should have said.”
After that, the meeting grinds to an abrupt halt.
Everyone gets up and files out, but Dominic and I stay put as another round of men comes through to meet with him.
The next meeting is more or less the same.
A lot of men make a lot of excuses, and Dominic says very little, but his silence is deafening.
When we’re finally done, it’s nearly noon, and my fingers cramp from all the writing.
“Well, Sofia,” Dominic says, leaning back casually in his chair. “I came here with one problem, but you helped me solve two.”
“I’m sure it was just a filing discrepancy,” I say casually.
“One that would have cost my company millions of dollars in the first year. Either no one caught it, or no one was meant to catch it because it was someone’s personal payday. Thank you.”
It’s the first kind word he’s said to anyone all day, and he’s reserved it for me. It’s hard not to feel a little pleased.
After a quick lunch, we do a site tour, which unfortunately runs through a half-built building with nothing but industrial fans. At some point, I’m sure I’m going to pass out. Dominic looks at me with concern.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Just hot,” I murmur.
He narrows his eyes at me.
“You look a little pale,” he says, like it’s an accusation. “And you were throwing up on the plane last night.”
“Motion sickness,” I assure him. “And the paleness is just the heat.”
He nods. “Why don’t you go back to the lounge and wait for me. We’re almost done here.”
Once again, his kindness shocks me. It’s gruff and sharp around the edges. Most people would call it basic human decency. For Dominic Vieri, it’s as kind as he gets.
Ten minutes later, he finds me in the lounge sipping on a large, overpriced bottle of water.
“Bad news,” he tells me. “We’re here for another night. There’s a storm moving through.”
I sigh and nod, already dreading another night trapped in a penthouse with him. After avoiding him for so long, all this alone time is getting into my head. What if something happens? No one would be there to drag us back to rational thought.
Thankfully, I crash on my bed the second we get back to the hotel, and I don’t wake again until Dominic knocks on my door the next morning to tell me the town car’s here. I don’t even bother changing. I didn’t pack another outfit anyway.
When we land back in New York, I could kiss the ground. The flight home was just as brutal on my stomach, and I spent most of it clinging to the tiny toilet. I’m pretty sure I’ll never fly anywhere again.
Dominic insists on me taking a town car back to Queens, but I think that’s overkill. I leave him at the office and take the subway back home, promising I’ll stay home the next day to make up for the long weekend. Overall, it wasn’t a huge disaster. It could’ve gone a lot worse.
As I pass my corner bodega, though, I catch a display for tampons and realize I haven’t gotten my period yet.
It should’ve come last week.
Shit.