Chapter 17
Brooks
M y head hurts from the relentless flip-flopping happening inside it.
I want her.
I hate her.
I need her.
What I really need right now is a professional to sort out the twisted mess in my brain. Perhaps it’s time to use the full-time psychologist that we hired to help with employee burnout. Sure, this isn’t exactly her job description, but we’re paying her a small fortune to sit in an office all day.
I prop myself up against a nearby light pole and wait. A tall palm tree looms overhead, its fronds swaying in the breeze, casting flickering shadows on the ground. The complex is immaculately kept, with more greenery and plant life surrounding me than I’ve ever seen in the city. It’s a peaceful oasis. I can see why Gracyn likes it here. Her apartment is far enough away from the Strip but right at the heart of a small, trendy downtown area.
The outdoor living area is crowded. People gather by tables, laughing and playing games, some grilling out. Does Gracyn usually join them? I’ve never thought about hanging out with my neighbors.
I glance up the stairs when I hear a door opening. Gray comes out, still in joggers, with a bag slung over one shoulder. Thank God she didn’t change. She looks effortlessly sexy. I swallow hard, gripping the back of my neck so I don’t do something stupid. Like pulling her into my arms in front of all her neighbors and showing them she’s mine.
Mine.
Well … for another few weeks, at least.
She flashes a grin when she passes me, popping open the trunk of a car parked across the street. Forgetting that not everyone Ubers everywhere like I do, I push off the pole and jog over to the car.
“Yours?” I ask, eyeing the bright blue two-seater Beamer, wondering if I’ll fit.
She scrunches up her freckled nose, slamming the trunk shut. “Nah. I’m stealing it.”
I laugh, walking to the passenger door. “I would not be surprised. At. All.”
I tuck myself into the space. And I mean tuck and roll. My knees are kissing my chest. “You could have stolen a bigger car.”
Her laughter fills the car, light and easy, and it makes my tight squeeze worth it. I’m still an asshole for slamming her against the door. The memory makes my stomach churn. The way I lost control scared me more than I want to admit.
I watch her drive with ease one-handed. Her other rests on the gearshift, despite being an automatic. Her bright pink nails stand out against the black interior. She senses me watching her and glances over.
She winces when she sees my squished body. “We’re almost there.”
“Thank God,” I mutter, shifting uncomfortably. “Because watching you drive is sexy as hell, but having a hard dick scrunched up like this is bad for my health.” I tug on my jeans, trying to relieve some pressure, but it’s useless. Instead, I recall the memory of walking in on my mom and dad once. I shudder at the horrible, unforgettable scene.
Yep, that did it. Softer than a pillow.
Speaking of memories. “Remember anything new from our wedding night?”
She swings into the valet and puts the car in park. “Nope.”
Even though it was the most irresponsible thing I’ve ever done, it was one of the best nights of my life, and my ego takes a hit that she doesn’t remember.
Marrying me.
As we walk through the casino, our fingers brush. I want nothing more than to lace my fingers through hers, but I can’t tell if she’s there yet. The attraction doesn’t surprise me. Not anymore. Not with this woman.
A soft growl slips from her lips, breaking through my thoughts as she slows down. “Hey, I have to run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
“Ooo-kay,” I mutter, confused by her sudden exit. She disappears behind a row of slot machines. Glancing around the casino, the only restroom sign I notice is on the opposite end of the casino. What is she up to?
Walking in the direction she left, when I clear the slots, I find her talking with another man about twenty feet away. The machines jingle and clang, drowning out their conversation. The guy she’s talking to looks like he came straight out of a bad mob movie. His suit’s a mess. Too short at the sleeves, baggy on the bottom, and wrinkled like he pulled it out of the laundry pile this morning. A thrift store special, at best.
My jaw tightens as I take in the scene. Despite her back to me, her posture tells me everything. Arms crossed, one finger drumming against her bicep. His snide, self-satisfied smile pisses me off. I don’t like this guy or the way he’s looking at her. But I stand off to the side, knowing she can hold her own. This is until he grabs her waist and steps into her space.
Wrong move, asshole.
She shoves him off, and I see the sharpness in her movements. Anger, not fear. The guy jerks his head in my direction when I step behind her. She turns, shifting her attention to me, and she opens her mouth to say something, but I speak first.
“Don’t fucking touch my wife again.” The words spill out of my mouth. I know I said them, regretted them, but I’m too pissed to retract them. My voice is low, dangerous, and loud enough to carry over the noise of the casino.
The guy’s eyes widen to saucers before flickering back to Gracyn.
“He’s kidding,” she sputters. Her big, beautiful green eyes plead with me, begging me to agree.
I freeze as I try to form the words, but the pause stretches too long. I shrug . I’ve got nothing.
A sneer twists across his face as he sizes me up, his lips curling like he knows something that I don’t.
Come on, asshole, try something . I dare him with my glare.
“Is dear ole’ daddy aware of this?”
“Justin, I was gracious once. Don’t make me regret that.” Gracyn’s warning snaps the guy’s mouth shut. Her confidence is on par with most of the men I meet in negotiations. It’s sexy as hell and reminds me of her boldness that day at the wedding. That same fire.
He glares at her for a beat, jaw tight, but it’s clear who has the upper hand when he spins on his heel and stalks off. Whatever grace she gave him, I doubt he earned it.
The second he’s out of sight, she whirls around, swatting me on the arm. “You are ridiculous,” she scolds. “You’re the most hot-and-cold guy I’ve ever met. There’s no halfway point for you. Why would you do that?”
I thought that was obvious. “He touched you.”
“Jealous much?” she asks with a wry smile.
She’s boxed me in. I can’t admit that, yes, seeing another man touch her makes me lose my shit because that would show she means more to me than I’m willing to confess.
“Jealousy isn’t in my wheelhouse.” It’s not a total lie. Before her, I’d never had an itch of jealousy. Now, it seems I’ve got poison ivy. It fucking itches everywhere. “It seemed to me you were in trouble.”
“I’ve proven to you I can handle myself when in trouble,” she bites back, snatching her bag from my grasp.
“Gracyn, I’m sorry,” I reply, catching her wrist before she can storm away. My grip is loose, but it’s enough to make her pause.
She glances down at my hand for a beat, then takes a step backward, out of my reach, with a pained expression. “This was a horrible idea.”
What the hell? My head reels, spinning with her sudden shift. Realization dawns on me. “Does this have to do with Raymond? I’m not afraid of him, Gracyn.”
She lets out a humorless laugh. “You should be. If he learns we’re together…” Her eyes scan the casino, searching. She’s already gearing up for a war.
“That guy looked like he shit his pants when he left. He won’t say anything.”
“Maybe.”
If her dad shows up, nothing will happen. He’s not the only one with eyes all around.
“My stomach is about to eat itself,” I say, shifting gears. “Can we please eat? And then we’ll hang out in the room the rest of the night.”
She exhales, her resistance faltering. She’ll learn I don’t give up that easily. I wouldn’t be where I am today by giving in. And right now, I want Gracyn.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She spins and heads toward the buffet.
“Good evening, Mr. Handley,” the hostess greets with a smile. Gracyn lifts a brow, and I shrug. When you have money, people recognize you. But then the woman shifts her focus to Gracyn with inquisitive eyes. “To you too, Ms. Carmichael.”
Gracyn’s lips twitch at my confusion, and she copies my nonchalant shrug before following the hostess to our table. We settle into a booth across from each other.
“Did I marry Vegas royalty?” I joke in a quiet voice, leaning in so I don’t give her a reason to be mad at me again, but I nod my head, connecting the dots. It all makes sense now. How she got into VIP, why people know her name. She wasn’t kidding when she said that everyone knows who her real father is. Unlike my situation, where only a select few are aware of Travis.
She leans in too, closing the space between us until our noses almost touch. “Are you jealous again? You can’t show off?”
I laugh, my attention momentarily shifting to two men sitting at a table behind Gracyn. Their plates are stacked tall, but it’s not their appetite that catches my eye. I noticed them earlier following us. One of them makes brief eye contact with me and gives the smallest nod before shoving his face with a forkful of meat.
“I’m at my best when there’s competition,” I say, pulling my attention back to her.
“I’m counting on it, Mr. Handley.”
Without warning, she tilts closer, brushing her lips against mine in a soft, teasing kiss. It’s only two seconds, but it’s all I need to set my blood on fire. I try to grab her before she hops up, but she’s too quick. I watch her heart-shaped ass take a plate and then peek over her shoulder at me. ”I thought you were hungry?”
Hungry like a wolf.
And she’s Little Red Riding Hood.
On my second plate, I lift a crab leg and snap it in half and skillfully extract the tender meat.
“Shit,” Gracyn murmurs.
I lift my gaze and find her eyes fixed on something behind me. Without turning, I ask, “Raymond?”
“Yep,” she snaps. She stays focused on whoever is behind me as I continue cracking legs. The last thing I want is a scene. People would whip out their phones faster than a slot machine could spin, and then I’m on the covers of all the tabloids.
Gracyn tries to shoot up out of her seat, but I grab her arm and shake my head. She lowers back down, and her gaze tracks the two guys, dressed in all black and built like linebackers, approaching our table. I don’t look up. Rather, I point my crab fork over Gracyn’s shoulder, gesturing to the two guys at the other table. The ones who’ve been shadowing us since we walked in.
“Those couple of guys right over there?” I say, cracking another crab leg. “They’re FBI. So, I wouldn’t try anything.” Their heads both jerk in that direction, and the men at the table, their postures stiffening, both nod, watching everything ensue.
Gracyn mutters a few curse words under her breath, pulls out her phone, and holds it up to her ear. “Call your guys off,” she snaps into the phone. Even from the other side of the table, I hear her dad’s voice booming through the phone. I catch the word annulment and then some cursing. Her jaw tightens. “That is none of your business. I’m a grown adult. Call them off.” She hangs up on him, slamming the phone down on the table. There are a few tense moments of silence before the guys get a text.
One guy gives her a chin jerk. “Gray, if you need us, you have our number.”
She nods, and they disappear into the casino. And then she turns her glare at me, her eyes burning a hole through my head. “What the hell, Brooks? FBI? You said it was your brother?”
“They are one and the same,” I reply, dipping a piece of meat into the butter. Her expression hardens that I’m not taking this as seriously as she thinks I should. I wipe my fingers on the napkin and meet her gaze. “I told you my brother is worried we’re going to start a war. And it seems it’s not a far-fetched idea considering the goons who just showed up.” I stick the fork into the meat and bring the buttered piece to my mouth. “What would those guys have done, anyway?” I add, certain if her dad wants to keep in good graces with his daughter and my dad , he won’t do anything.
“They probably would have taken you to talk to Ray. He’s wondering why you’re here since he knows our court date isn’t for another three weeks. And now, when he finds out about them”—she jerks her thumb over her shoulder—“he’s going to flip his shit.”
Can’t blame him. He’s worried about his little girl. I don’t want to imagine what I’d do if Presley married a guy that I hated.
She leans her arms on the table, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper. “Were you ever going to tell me about Cooper?”
Actually, no. I didn’t want her to feel sorry for the guy. I was hoping she wouldn’t find out about him. I tsk and lean forward, meeting her in the middle. “He got what he deserved.”
There are zero fucks for that douchebag.
Her eyes flicker left and right before landing on mine again. “Please tell me you had nothing to do with it.”
“Me? I was worried you did.”
I wasn’t. It might have crossed my mind how mad she was and her supposed connections, but it was a fleeting thought. Since finding out about her father, the last thing on my mind was Cooper, but had I known about Raymond before, I might’ve wondered if it was her.
Her eyes widen, and she flattens me with her stare. “I would never have someone…” She looks in all directions again before she mouths, “Almost killed.”
No, she wouldn’t. But her father? If he knew Cooper drugged her, he’d have dealt with him in a blink of an eye.
“I see what you’re thinking. Ray didn’t know about him.”
He’s still alive, so I believe her. Cooper pissed off a lot of people. It was only a matter of time before his bullshit caught up with him.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I pull it out, I can’t help but laugh out loud reading Aiden’s text.
Aiden: Kissing and holding hands? Yeah, you showed her
“What’s so funny?”
I shake my head and slide my phone back into my pocket. “My brother’s a dick.”
“‘ The FBI brother-in-law?’” She does air quotes. “I thought you were an only child. Like me.”
“I am,” I reply, and her brows furrow in confusion. “I grew up as an only child with my adoptive parents. When I was twenty-five, I found out that I had a half sister. That’s Addison. Her husband is Aiden, the FBI agent .”
“How weird was that, finding out you had a sister?”
“It would’ve gone better had I not tried flirting with her right before she told me.”
She gasps, holding in her laugh with her hand. There’s a lot more to the story I don’t plan on sharing. It wasn’t a good day, but that part, we still get a good laugh to this day.
Like every time I’m with Gracyn, our conversation flows effortlessly. She doesn’t dominate with endless chatter about herself. She’s just as curious about me as I am about her. Every new detail I learn makes her seem more perfect than before. I’ve searched for flaws, and the only one I’ve found so far is where she lives.
And it’s a deal breaker.
After dinner, I’m too full to take her to my bed, though the idea crosses my mind. But now is a great time to test whether I can jog her memory about our wedding night.
“Feel like gambling a little?” I ask.
“Don’t you know the house always wins?”
“Not always.” I chuckle, remembering that night.
I lead her to a craps table and squeeze into a spot at the end. I slide five hundred dollars onto the table.
Gracyn’s jaw drops as she watches the dealer exchange the cash for chips. “Do you know how much stuff I could buy with that?”
I love that my wife is frugal.
Dammit, I have to stop referring to her that way.
“What can I say? I had a good night at Chippendales.”
She laughs out aloud and then covers her mouth when people glance over at us. “I forgot about that. You gave me a private show that night.”
At least she remembers that. Let’s see if I can coax out more of her memories.
After a few dud rolls where the people throw sevens, the stickman pushes the dice toward me. I pick up two in my hand, rolling them in between my fingers. Bringing them close to Gracyn’s face, I say, “Make a wish, gorgeous.”
At first she smiles, that sweet, teasing grin that always gets to me. But then, something shifts. I see it when it happens. Her brain releases a memory. Her eyes lock on my hands, her mind thrown into the past.
She gasps as she grips my arm. “Oh my god. I remember. I remember why .”
“Make a wish, gorgeous.”
She blows on my fist, closes her eyes, and murmurs, “I wish to find a good man to marry.”
“I’ll marry you.”
She giggles and catches herself by leaning on the craps table so she doesn’t tip over. I lost count of how many drinks we’ve had.
“How about if I roll a six, we get married?”
“That’s a risky bet.”
“Gray, the odds are in my favor.”
Our whole marriage debacle was my fault. Well, my drunk self’s fault because there’s no way sober me would’ve done something so impulsive.
“I didn’t have a job. Why the hell didn’t I ask for a job?” she groans, covering her eyes with her hands.
I toss the dice, not paying attention to what rolled.
“We got married because of a bet. Nice,” she says, with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
“See? The house doesn’t always win.”
She slaps my chest. “That’s not funny.”
“A little.”
“No,” she deadpans, narrowing her eyes at me.
I throw the dice again. Seven out. I’ve never been so relieved to throw a seven. I’ve been too busy trying to get her to remember, I forgot to place all my bets, so I’m only out fifty bucks. I trade my small chips in for large ones and take her hand, leading her to the elevators.
Her forehead wrinkles in thought as we wait for one to open. “Okay. So after we left the Aria, I’m confused. If we left to go get married, how did we end up at the Bellagio first? Is that when the taxi driver misheard us?”
I chuckle, nodding. “In my drunken state, it was a sign. I needed to get you naked before I married you.”
We step into the elevator. “You’re so romantic,” she retorts, rolling her eyes.
“It was romantic. I wanted you to see that the man you were about to marry was amazing in bed. I was totally thinking of you. And, you know, to make sure you didn’t change your mind.”
The doors shut, and she steps into me, her body brushing against mine. “Here, scoot over,” she says, pushing me to the side.
The elevator is empty besides us, so I raise a brow, giving her a questioning look.
“We need to make room for your confidence,” she teases, her words coated with amusement.
“Am I wrong, though?” I challenge, grabbing her by the waist and drawing her against me, my thigh shifting in between her legs. “You said it yourself that my dick must’ve been the reason you married me.”
“Not to feed the beast, but it is impressive.” Her pouty red lips dust over mine, and a firecracker feels like it explodes inside me. Her fingers run down the outline of my hard cock. “We might need to revisit the night, just in case I missed some details.”
I spin her around, stepping into her space until her back presses against the elevator wall. “Can’t have you missing details. Like how you came three times before my dick was even inside you.” Her breath hitches. “It’s all in the details, babe, and I’ll make sure not to miss one.”
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. The sexual tension crackles between us like a live wire, and I grin, stepping back just enough to grab her hand. “Come on.” I guide her out of the elevator. “Time for a refresher course.”