Chapter Seven
Arianna
Las Vegas is a different kind of beast from all the cities we’ve visited so far—miles away from the quiet towns with their rolling hills and red rock formations. It’s loud, chaotic, and the desert heat hits like a wall. It reminds me of New York, except it’s crazier—a concrete jungle on steroids.
The buildings here aren’t just tall structures of concrete and glass, they’re themed, each one a different fantasy.
A faux-Paris, a cityscape, a pyramid, a castle…
heck, it’s like a theme park for adults.
In New York, everyone’s always rushing somewhere, but here, it’s different.
The people I bump into are rarely rude, and I can’t tell if it’s the way of the city or as a result of the tall man who’s stuck to my side the entire trip.
The man who sends people shrinking into themselves with a single glare.
I shouldn’t like how Conor behaves, the possessive look he gets in his eyes when other men look my way, but… I do.
The days in Vegas are hot and fun, but the magic comes when the sun dips below the horizon. The city explodes—it comes alive. Something about the cool desert air and the cover of night makes people want to do something scandalous.
Maybe that’s the reason I wasn’t upset when our plans to leave Vegas this afternoon suddenly changed.
The plan was to spend three days and two nights in Las Vegas, touring the city and filming for my channel before leaving for Los Angeles, which would mark the end of our trip.
Except that things didn’t go as planned.
There was a bittersweet moment this morning as we were packing to leave, but then Conor noticed a large puddle of fluid under the van.
After tinkering with it, he announced that the brake line had been damaged and the van had to be towed to a mechanic for repairs, earning us yet another night in Las Vegas.
I saw the suspicion in Conor’s eyes. Despite his assurance that everything was fine, I knew that he had his suspicions about the sudden damage and whether it was intentional or not.
It scared me to think that someone could have messed with the van, but I couldn’t focus on that.
It meant one more night with the man I have fallen in love with.
The truth is…I’m not ready for this trip to end.
Leaving for LA means saying goodbye. I already have a buyer set for the van, and once I’ve handed over the keys, then Conor and I will fly back to New York.
I never planned on keeping the van—it has over 3,000 miles on it and memories for days, but selling it off was always the plan.
Still, the thought of parting with it feels bittersweet, but even more unnerving is the thought of parting ways with Conor O’Shea.
I’m not ready for things to be over between us, but once we get back to New York, the bubble that we’ve been living in will be popped.
I’ll go back to shooting content and helping my sister with her bakery café while I plan for the next adventure, and Conor…
well, he goes back to protecting other people that are not me.
I shake off the thought and stare up at the bright lights of the casino.
What use is there in obsessing over tomorrow when we have tonight?
And after attending a show at one of the casinos on the strip, then an intimate dinner at Le Cirque, I’m not ready for the night to end.
Heck, we could’ve gone straight to our hotel room after dinner and spent our last night here making love, but I wanted to visit the casino in our hotel and try one other thing.
And now, here we are.
“Can you teach me how to play one of these games?”
“You know the answer to that, a rùn,” Conor says, taking my hand in his and pulling me along with him. “Gambling for anyone under twenty-one is illegal.”
“Just one game.”
“No.”
I toss him a mock glare as we walk in, but I’m not completely oblivious to the stares tossed in our direction.
And it seems neither is the man with a firm grip on my hand.
I question the wisdom of wearing this tight little silk dress tonight, but I wanted to look sexy for our last night in Vegas, and it seems it’s not just Conor who’s noticing my effort.
"They probably think you’re my sugar daddy or something,” I whisper, inching closer to him.
"Good, it means they know you’re taken!”
I bite back a chuckle at the possessiveness in his voice and stay quiet by his side, like the "sugar baby” I’m supposed to be.
He exchanges some cash for a stack of chips.
We stop at a couple of machines, winning a small amount, before eventually finding ourselves at an oddly shaped table, playing roulette.
Well, Conor does the playing while I lean against his shoulder and watch him.
A little over a week ago, I really disliked this man and dreaded being on this trip with him, and now, I can’t imagine a moment without him. I don’t want to.
My mind wanders as I watch the game, trying and failing not to think of the future waiting for us. So when my phone pings with a message, I welcome the distraction even if I already know who it is that’s contacting me.
My stalker.
We’re no closer to figuring out who it is. Fiona’s last update was that she was still working on the metadata she’d gotten from the pictures but wasn’t there yet. It terrifies me to no end that I have a shadow that I can’t seem to shake.
Conor seems too focused on the game to notice me opening the message, and I expect to see a picture taken in one of the several locations we visited today except…
it’s not. My heart starts pounding as I take in the picture of me leaning against Conor’s shoulder, a smile on my face as I watch him play a game I don’t understand.
I glance up, then quickly back down at the picture.
Looking at it, I realize that whoever took it did so from across the floor, but not too far away.
From the picture, I can even see the dealer at the nearby blackjack table and the same players at the table.
My first instinct is to look up and seek out the area for a familiar face now that I’ve figured out where they are in the room, but I don’t. I need to be calm and smart about this. Alerting Conor about it now could send the stalker panicking.
Think, Arianna. Think!
An idea pops into my mind that I decide to immediately act on.
“I’m going to start vlogging,” I tell Conor, who responds with a grunt, too focused on the game.
I smile at that before slowly turning around and holding my phone up in selfie mode, as I often do when shooting a video for my channel.
As discreetly as possible, I scan the faces of the people around the tables, and that’s when I see a familiar face.
And my heart drops to my stomach.
I don’t know what I was expecting to see. Perhaps the face of one of my uncle’s friends coming after me after everything that happened with Uncle Gio. Or maybe some crazy fan I met long ago. Any of those choices would have made sense.
Not her.
Mia Stanapolis.
A friend. At least she’s someone I considered a friend. Heck, just a few months ago, we attended an influencer’s event together and spent the entire weekend hanging out and vlogging together. Perhaps calling her a friend now is a stretch, seeing how things have been strained between us.
It all began after the influencer’s event when she started to get clingy and pushy, sharing my personal information on her channel to gain traction.
My requests for her to take down those videos were ignored, seeing how they were the most watched on her channel.
But that’s the thing about the internet and gossip.
People move on quickly. There’s always something happening.
When selling me out didn’t serve her anymore, she tried to reach out to me, but it was too late.
Bridges were burned, broken and shattered beyond repair.
And Mia, well, she refused to accept that whatever friendship we had was over, so she turned to messaging me at odd hours and begging to collaborate on other videos.
Eventually, I had to block her. It’s been months since I’ve thought of her, and maybe that’s why I didn’t think to connect her to my stalker.
Christ, I know that things didn’t end well between us, mostly because of her, but nothing warrants this. Did she really just follow me across the country and stalk me for days because I stopped collaborating with her?
None of this makes any fucking sense.
I keep my eyes on Mia, and when she gets up from her table and leaves, going in the direction of the bathroom, I decide to follow.
I tell Conor that I’m going to use the bathroom and don’t wait for his answer before heading after Mia, ignoring the men who try to get my attention as I follow my stalker.
Perhaps I should be scared about going after my stalker without Conor, but Mia is my height and size.
I don’t believe she could beat me in a fight if it came to that.
She’s not even the violent type, just annoying.
When Mia slips into the bathroom, I rush to follow her but stop myself before I can enter.
A thought slips into my mind, and I figure that maybe I should help a friend out.
Since she wanted a collaboration, this is our chance, so I start live streaming on my channel and keep my phone by my side before finally slipping in.
Mia doesn’t seem all that surprised to see me when I enter, and she waits for the only other woman with us to leave before finally turning to face me. I step closer, making sure her face is visible on the livestream.
“I know you’re a fan of my work but this is taking it to the next level, don’t you think?” I hiss, my voice chilling to ice. “Stalking and following me across the country? That’s pathetic, even for you, Mia!”
“Oh, please. The pathetic one is you,” she spews, pushing from the sink and stomping toward me, the venom in her eyes forcing me back a step. “You are the loser who dumped the plans you made with your best friend for some dick!”
“What?”
“This trip was ours to make!” she rages, moving back to the sink and slamming her hand on the basin. “I hoped we’d collaborate on another vlog together, but you turned me down, locked me out of your life like I was nothing. Like I wasn’t fucking in love with you.”
Her words are like a hammer, and they slam into me with enough power to knock me back another step. “W-what are you talking about?”
"We could have been an influencer power couple. You told me about this trip, remember? I figured, why would she tell me her plans for a cross-country trip if she wasn’t hinting at traveling together?
” Mia says, speaking to herself more than she is to me before turning back.
“I helped you plan this fucking trip, but you chose to bring a man with you!”
I’m speechless…horrified. How the hell did I not see how insane she was when we had become friends?
Christ, I didn’t lead her on…did I? I remember the conversation we had about the trip, and at the time, I only thought we were sharing our dreams. I didn’t realize Mia thought we were talking about a trip we’d take together.
Heck, she didn’t help me plan the trip. I remember her making suggestions on places I could visit, but.
.. Christ, how could she have misinterpreted our entire relationship?
“Why did you follow me?” I ask, twisting my hair with my fingers as I often do when I’m stressed. “Don’t you see how crazy it is to follow someone for days and secretly take pictures of them like you’re some kind of stalker?”
“I was hoping we could still go on the trip together. That somewhere we’d accidentally bump into each other, like at the Sleeping Bear Dunes, and blame it on fate and rekindle our relationship, but then…
I saw him.” Something dark crosses her eyes, turning the green in her eyes into an earthy gray. “You kissed him.”
Mia turns back to the mirror, knuckles turning white as she grips the white basin and meets my gaze in the reflection.
“You kissed him, and I wanted to kill you. Heaven forgive me, but I daydreamed about shoving you off the cliff at the Grand Canyon or paying some hitman to take you out at the Navy Pier!” And then she turns to me.
"But I could never get too close, so I have to mess with your car, but the fucking man you keep around ruined my plans!”
“So, when you saw me with Conor, you decided to kill me instead? How does that make any sense, Mia?”
“Because if I can’t have you, no one can!” she snarls. “And once you’re gone, everyone will know who I am. I’ll be the heartbroken friend who lost her soulmate. They’ll follow me because they feel sorry for me. Your death will make me famous.”
"You’re insane!”
“Maybe.” She shrugs, her eyes glittering with something unhinged. “But I’m going to be a very famous kind of insane.”
“Why didn’t you just approach me? Talk to me like a normal person?”
“Because you blocked me!” she screams. “You locked me out! The plan with the van didn’t work, so I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.
” And then I see the knife as she pulls it out of her purse, her eyes on mine as she advances, my heart pounding in my ears with every step she takes toward me.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure everyone mourns you.
I’ll cry the hardest at your memorial. And when they ask who you were… I’ll tell them you were mine.”
"Mia, stay the hell away from me!”
But she keeps coming, the knife gleaming under the bathroom lights, and I realize with horrible clarity that she means every word.