Chapter 4
Chapter Four
ROME
This place is infinitely better than the last. There aren’t any cougars that smell of smoke, wearing thick eyeliner and whore-red lipstick, continuously scraping their nails against my chest while they go on about their divorce and how their ex-husband was lousy in the sheets.
This bar, miles from the strip, is more my style.
The women, though on different levels of life than I, are at least my age and don’t reek of cigarettes. Instead, they smell of flowery perfume, liquor, and bad choices.
Right up my ally.
The best part about it? They have no idea who I am.
Out of nowhere, a chick with wavy, thick hair slips in front of me. “Hurry. Dance with me.”
She wraps her fingers around my wrist and tugs me to the center of the floor. Confusion backs my every step, but who am I to deny a damsel in distress?
I could use a distraction–one that takes my thoughts of Vanstone Racing and pushes them all the way to the back of my skull.
The auburn-haired girl’s hands land on my shoulders, but her eyes flit off in a different direction, like she’s looking for someone.
Or hiding from someone?
I’m not sure which.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
She briefly looks at me. “Quinn.”
“I’m Ro…” I pause. “I’m Pierce.” Just in case.
Quinn says nothing. Her attention moves past me to continue her search efforts.
I lean closer. “Who are we looking for?”
She scoffs. “No one important.”
Well, alrighty, then.
I’m fine with being her cover for the night, I guess.
She stiffens in my arms, and pure revolution whisks over her face.
Oh, hell.
She’s found her target somewhere behind me, and if I’m not careful, I may be caught in between a rock and a hard place.
A hand unexpectedly lands on me, and yep, here we go.
I spin around, prepared to talk myself out of whatever this is, but I’m met with a familiar face. It takes Beck Halston half a second to realize that I’m familiar to him too.
What are the fucking chances? Is this fate? Or maybe karma?
I signed a contract to race for Vanstone—which by default means I’ll be working with the entire Halston family—no more than six hours prior, and now I’m face to face with the youngest son who has already made the headlines for his hot-headed, impulsive behavior.
This has to be some sort of test.
Beck bares his teeth at me. “Oh, hell no,” he growls.
The heavy blow to my jaw is followed by a sharp sting. I reach up and grab my face, opening and closing my mouth a couple of times.
He must know I can’t hit him back.
I should have amended that part of the contract.
“Beck! What the fuck?” The pretty auburn, clearly involved with Beck, puts herself in between us. She places her hands on his chest and shoves him backward.
“Do you know who he is?” He points at me with pure hatred in his eyes.
I’ll eat that look for breakfast, thank you very much.
“Beck! Jesus Christ!”
My shoulders tense.
Tessa, the only Halston daughter, the girl who is no longer a girl, moves in between Beck and my dance partner. She gently pushes Quinn to the side and peers at her brother. “Can you get it together?” she shouts. “I really don’t feel like bailing you out of jail tonight!”
I chuckle.
Beck glares at me while talking to his sister. “Do you know who she's dancing with?”
“I honestly don’t care who she’s dancing with!” Tessa snaps. “And you shouldn’t either!”
Beck glowers. “Rome fucking Pierce.”
A sick smile slides onto my face because, truly, I just can’t help myself.
A decades-long rivalry between our families has embedded this behavior into my very bones, and although I’m part of the Vanstone crew now—something I’m beginning to think they’re unaware of—it’s hard to ignore.
“What?” Tessa turns around hastily, and we lock gazes.
Shock moves over her features, little worry lines digging into her forehead. She sucks in a sharp breath through her slightly parted, pink lips. Those big brown eyes of hers widen, and she blinks several times like she can’t believe I'm standing in front of her.
She recovers quickly and moves into full-on manager mode.
“Quinn, take Beck outside and wait for Graham. He’s on the way.” She turns and looks at me. “You stay here with me.”
“I’m not going anywh–” Beck’s words fade with Quinn pulling on his arm toward the door.
With their departure, Tessa snaps at me. “Let’s go.”
She flings her hair out of her face and turns, expecting me to follow her.
That would just be too easy, so I keep my feet planted. “Where we goin’, Tess?”
Her steps falter.
I get a quick glimpse of the side of her soft cheek as she glares at me over her shoulder.
“Do not call me Tess.”
I lift my lip. “Why not? I thought you liked that nickname?”
She angrily faces me, and a rush of hot excitement fills my veins.
“Friends and family call me that…” Her finger pokes my chest, and it takes everything in me not to grab a hold of her small wrist.
“And you are neither,” she finishes.
I roll my lips and hum. “What about co-workers?”
A line of confusion works its way in between those perfectly shaped brows. “What?”
The music in the club shifts to some sort of techno song, and the lights sync up with the beat.
She stares at me, the shadows playing with the delicate features of her face.
Her cheeks fill with air, and then she lets out an annoyed sigh.
Her warm fingers wrap around my arm, and I let her tug me through the gyrating crowd.
We get to the hallway lined with mostly women who need to use the restroom and pass by each and every one of them. They look at me first, and then they move to Tessa’s hand wrapped around my bicep. They share looks of envy and praise.
I chuckle to myself.
They think Tessa is leading me to a secluded spot to have her way with me.
How twisted would that be on Monday morning when I show up to work alongside her?
She’d probably strangle me with a tire gun hose, and depending on how good the hookup was, I might let her.
Tessa opens a door that reads Employee Bathroom and pulls us both inside. She lets go of me, and I glance at it to see if there’s a mark left behind, but it’s just my imagination.
The lock latches, but she makes no move to face me. “What are you after, Rome? Why are you in Vegas?”
I lean against the sink, the cool porcelain a bite to my palms. I wait patiently for her to turn around to face me. I’m not speaking to her backside, even if the view is sort of nice.
Eventually, she turns around in haste, her wavy brown hair loose behind her shoulders.
“Hello?” she says sarcastically.
I eye her closely, and the stuffy room fills with hot tension.
“Your father didn’t tell you?” I’m casual about it, my head tilting to the side.
She crosses her arms defensively. “Tell me what?”
My smirk deepens, and I don’t even have to say the words.
Tessa’s horrified expression tells me she knows exactly why I’m here.