Chapter 21
MADDIE
Snort. Snort. Snort.
Something warm and wet licks my ear.
It takes a moment to realize it’s my dog.
“Snorty, stop,” I yawn, stretching as I struggle to remember where I am. There’s a gray light outside the window.
And I’m not in my bed. With a man’s pair of jeans thrown over the desk chair, I’m not even in my own room.
Then I remember last night. The bath. The martini. The way I fell asleep in his arms.
Snorty scuffles over, blowing morning puppy breath my way as he licks my face.
“All right, Snorts, I’m getting up,” I say, reaching for my phone.
It’s almost nine. According to the schedule, Rio and I are supposed to meet Henry Lemon, the founder of Quench after breakfast.
“Rio?” I call out, but the room is silent. His bathroom is dark and empty.
I shower quickly in my own room, letting the hot water wash away the confusion of the morning.
When I'm done, I grab one of those fancy hotel washcloths with the gold monogram stitched into the corner to clean Snorty's scrunched-up little face.
He lets out little grunts of delight while I'm doing it. Like he’s at some exclusive doggy spa getting a facial.
“You're getting way too used to this five-star treatment, aren't you?”
I put on one of Antoine’s more conservative dresses, then twist my hair into my usual teacher-appropriate style before catching myself.
Something about my evening with the hot rockstar has made me bold.
I fluff out my hair with my fingers, letting it fall loose around my shoulders. Then I add a swipe of berry lipstick.
The last thing I need is for some paparazzi to snap a photo of me looking like I just rolled out of bed.
Especially after everyone saw me all glammed up yesterday with Antoine’s professional hair and makeup job.
I tie the bandana Antoine gave me around Snorty's neck, but can't quite manage to knot it the way Rio showed me at dinner.
At least Snorty seems pleased by my work as he examines himself in the mirror. My pup jumps into his Vuitton carrier, and we head to breakfast.
“Good morning, Miss Smith,” the too-perky hostess says. “Would your dog like the puppy menu?”
I look down at him. “Want a menu, Snorts?”
He yips yes.
We’re seated in a booth with a full view of the room. It’s Vegas. Half the guests look like they haven’t slept. One woman still wears a full evening gown.
I’m sipping coffee when Rio appears.
“Good morning, family,” he says. Snorty yips back a hello.
“Where were you all morning?” I ask, curiosity bubbling inside.
“Couldn’t sleep," he shrugs. "Got up, went to the studio to perfect a song I've written."
"Cool. What's it about?"
He shrugs, then smiles mysteriously.
Before I can ask another question, the waitress appears.
“Hi,” I say when she asks for my order. “French toast and heavy on the syrup.”
“Watching your girlish figure, are you?” Rio cracks. “I’ll have an egg-white omelet and avocado slices," he tells the waitress.
When she leaves, he looks at me with those teasing dark eyes “I’ve never known a girl to order French toast with gobs of syrup."
“You’ve never known a girl with a serious sugar fixation. Didn’t you notice that look of satisfaction when dessert was served last night?”
“I remember a satisfied look on your face,” he says, tracing my jaw with the tip of his finger. “But I don’t think it was from dessert.”
The sensation of Rio’s calloused finger on my face sends an erotic jolt straight to my pussy. It’s strong enough to make me suggest we skip breakfast and go back up to our suit.
Rio, I’m sure, would go along with it.
But then I remember we’re meeting Henry Lemon.
“I have to keep my wits about me this morning,” I say, taking a sip of coffee. “We’re meeting your sponsor. I need to make a good impression.”
“So you said last night. But you didn’t explain exactly why.”
I give him a brief overview of the situation at the school where I teach.
“I’m hoping Henry Lemon can use his power base to reverse the school board’s position. Or maybe direct his company’s profits to support the school.”
“We’ll convince this Lemon guy,” Rio says, assuming a faux cartoon superhero tone. “Especially with Snorty as our mascot.”
When Rio and I finish breakfast, we walk to one of the rooms within the Sonny Bono Theater where we’re to meet Antoine and the sponsor.
“Ah, the star of Las Vegas has arrived,” Antoine booms. To his right stands a man wearing a navy suit and wire-rim glasses. Henry Lemon. A conservative guy, just like I imagined.
“And this is Rio’s lovely fiancée, Madison Smith," Antoine says.
“So nice to meet you." I step forward with a burst of energy. This is the moment I’ve been preparing for. I inhale, ready to give the speech I practiced a dozen times.
“I’m pleased to meet you too, Maddie,” Lemon says.
Before I can speak, a woman in a white governess-type uniform enters with a ten-year-old boy. He looks just like Mr. Lemon. Right down to the blue suit.
“This is my son, Samuel,” Henry says with pride.
Samuel gives me a quick nod, but his eyes go straight to Snorty in my arms.
“Cool dog! Can I hold him?” Samuel asks, lighting up.
“If it’s okay with the Snortster,” I say, carefully handing him over. “He can be picky sometimes.”
To my surprise, Snorty doesn’t squirm. He settles into Samuel’s arms with ease.
Samuel giggles as Snorty snuffles against his jacket. “Daddy, can we get a dog like this? Please?”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Lemon replies, gently taking Snorty from Samuel's arms and giving him back to me.
“Now if you’ll excuse us, Samuel and I are off to see the shark reef at Mandalay Bay. We’ll catch up later.”
“Sure,” I say, trying not to let my disappointment show.
So much for my pitch. After spending almost the entire night working on my report, this could have been my only time to talk to Mr. Lemon.
And now he's off to look at fish.
Once they disappear, Rio stands and straightens his jacket. “I need to leave too. Rehearsal calls.”
When we’re alone, Antoine gives me a small nod. “Looks like things are going well for you and Rio.”
My heart warms to hear him say our names together.
“Yes. Looks that way, doesn’t it?”
I stand there a moment, watching Rio go. Remembering the bond we created last night.
Looking forward to Rio making good on his promise when we’re both back in New York.
Antoine taps his clipboard. “Well, I better get to rehearsal also. But first, I arranged another little PR activity for you.”
“Oh?” I glance at the schedule app he sent me.
“You’ll be visiting the Las Palmas Paws spa. Just a brief tour so my photographers can get pictures of you and Snorty. No massages or treatments.”
Snorty, hearing this, yips sharply in disappointment.
Antoine and I laugh.
“The photographers will meet you there. You’ll need to walk through the main lobby to get to the Paws spa.”
“We’re ready.”
As Snorty and I head toward the hotel lobby, a surprising peace settles over me.
I have a gorgeous fake fiancé, and a happy dog.
For the first time in my life, I feel like the lead in my own story.