chapter 12
Remi
IT WAS SWELTERING TODAY, THE type of Vegas weather that makes me wonder why any of us live here; the desert obviously isn’t made for us.
But the air is finally starting to cool off now that the sun is setting, and I have all the windows down in my Grand Cherokee as I cruise east on Summerlin Parkway.
On my way to pick Sebastian up.
I still can’t believe he got a flight into Vegas just to go to dinner with me tonight.
The thought makes my stomach flutter and twist, like I’m not sure whether to feel flattered or freaked out. Maybe a bit of both.
I’ve been driving for about ten minutes, and I’ve already almost turned the Jeep around three separate times.
Because I feel like I’m about to break another one of my rules: Don’t engage with clients outside of the club.
But . . . is Sebastian actually a client? I met him at Caliber, so I want to say yes, but from that first moment I met his eyes from across the club, something felt different about him, and he’s just continued to prove that over and over again.
I sigh as I hit my blinker and merge left to get onto I-11.
I’m only a few minutes out from Sebastian’s hotel now—the Fontainebleau.
It’s one of those hotels that’s stupidly expensive but not made for partying like some of the hotels on the Strip.
When Sebastian texted me to say he was staying there, I wondered if I should just not text back, disappear like a tumbleweed blowing across the desert.
That didn’t happen though. Because I can see the hotel in the distance, growing larger as my Jeep coasts down the highway.
I’m on Las Vegas Boulevard now, and the Fontainebleau towers over the road. I hang a U-turn and realize this is my last chance to drive away; I’m about fifteen seconds from taking the right-hand turn that’ll lead me to the hotel’s pickup area.
What am I doing? I think, gripping my steering wheel hard. This is so fucking stupid.
But I hit my turn signal anyway.
And as I steer to the right and follow the signs to the pickup area, I start to feel like the tight grip I have on my life is slowly starting to fray and unravel.
Because he’s already there waiting for me, and my chest squeezes when I lay eyes on him.
He’s standing in the pickup area, hands in the front pockets of his jeans, wearing a black hoodie and a backward hat.
He’s casually chatting to a woman who looks to be waiting for a valet.
She’s dressed in a skimpy silver dress and heels, her hair hanging in bouncy curls around her shoulders.
When Sebastian says something, she laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners and one hand coming up to cover her mouth.
A sharp pulse of irritation goes through me, but I crush it immediately as I pull up to the curb.
And Sebastian looks up and meets my eyes through the windshield.
The smile that crosses his face makes his dimples show. And as soon as he sees me, he’s already moving away from the woman in the silver dress, leaving her standing at the curb as he reaches to pull open the passenger’s door on my Jeep.
My heart thumps hard as it swings open.
Then he’s poking his head through the open doorway, still smiling that dimpled smile.
“Hey,” he says. “You look like my ride.”
My lips tug up on one side. “You’d better get in before I pick someone else up.”
Still smiling, he slides into the passenger’s seat and closes the door. And as I check over my shoulder and pull through the pickup area, he doesn’t glance back once at the beautiful woman standing on the curb.
At first, it’s quiet as I navigate back out onto Las Vegas Boulevard. But I can feel Sebastian staring at me. Finally, I say, “Put your seat belt on.”
He lets out a small laugh. “You a race car driver or something?”
I flick a glance at him and try not to admire how casually hot he is, already lounging back in the seat, one arm draped along the open window.
“Something like that.”
“All right, Andretti.” He pulls the seat belt out and clicks it into place as we come up to a red light. “So, where are you taking me?”
“No fucking way,” Sebastian says as we step into Secret Pizza, one of my favorite pizza joints in Vegas.
It’s nearly impossible to find, hidden on the third level of the Cosmopolitan, down a long hallway lined with album covers.
Sebastian looks down at me, expression a mix of surprise and boyish joy. “How’d you know I wanted pizza?”
I shrug, smiling back at him over my shoulder as I lead the way through the crowded pizza joint. “Get anything you want. I’m buying.”
At those words, the smile on his face falters, just a bit, and I wonder why. But it’s back in place a second later as he steps up to the counter with me.
We each order two slices of pizza, then go to take a seat at one of the high counters.
“Thanks,” Sebastian says as he lifts his first slice and tosses me a smile. “You’re spoiling me tonight.” He takes a big bite, looking like the happiest guy in the world, and I tear my gaze away from his brown eyes; they’re making my stomach flutter in a way that is not okay.
A few customers trickle in while we eat, and though we get some glances, no one seems to recognize the rock star in the hoodie and the hat, chowing down on his second slice.
“Do you get recognized very often?” I ask as I dab pizza sauce from my lips and reach for my lemon-flavored San Pellegrino.
Sebastian shrugs. “Depends. If we’re at a music festival or something, then yeah. But in my regular life, not as often.” He flicks me a glance. “Dex gets followed around everywhere. It’s a pain in the ass going anywhere with him.”
This makes me smile. “You don’t like the limelight?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, it sucks balls. It was fun for about six months, when LGC started getting big. But it got old fast.” He finishes his second slice and washes it down with his own San Pellegrino, then glances over my shoulder. “You down for a game of pinball?”
Behind me stand two pinball machines. One’s already in use, but the other is open and waiting for us.
I arch a brow at him. “If you want to lose, sure.”
His dimpled smile is back. “Bring it on, baby. You’re about to witness greatness.”
We clean up our plates and drinks, then snag the open pinball machine. Sebastian gets change, then hands me a tower of quarters—way more than we need. I put one in, and the machine lights up and starts making its familiar obnoxious noises.
“Watch and learn,” I tell him, placing my hands on the paddles.
I can’t count how many times I’ve played on these machines; Riley and I go hard every time we come here together.
Riley.
Thinking of her, I glance over at Sebastian, where he’s leaning against the machine, gaze focused on the pinball as it careens wildly through the machine, racking up points as it goes. She’d lose her shit if she knew I’m on a date with the drummer of LGC.
Wait.
Is this a date?
The thought makes me hit the paddle late, and the ball slips through the gap. The machine chimes, and Sebastian says, “Finally. I thought it’d never end.” He waves a hand at me. “Move over. Let the boss show you how it’s done.”
Smiling, I roll my eyes at him and scoot out of the way.
And his turn ends in all of five seconds.
He looks up at me, and I arch a brow. “The boss, huh?”
His smile turns sheepish. “Okay, maybe I haven’t played in a while. I just needed to warm up.”
Half an hour and a ton of quarters later, it’s obvious that Sebastian is terrible at pinball. He loses to me. Badly. But he’s a good sport about it, smiling and laughing the whole time. And I realize I like that—a man who can get his ass publicly kicked at pinball and not care one bit.
As we walk back down the album-lined hallway to the elevator that’ll take us to the ground level, where my Jeep is parked, I glance up at Sebastian and say, “Maybe we can have a rematch sometime.”
My words cause him to flick his gaze to mine, and his brows arch up a bit, like I just said something surprising.
And I guess I did. Because a rematch insinuates I’ll be seeing him again.
Fuck. I shouldn’t have let that slip out.
“Challenge accepted,” he says, grinning at me, then gestures for me to walk into the elevator.
We step inside. The elevator is all glass with a purple hue that shines down over us as I hit the button to take us down to the bottom floor.
And as we start to slowly move down, I realize that I don’t want the night to end yet.
Usually, my dates include a nice dinner, fucking at a hotel, then going home to take a shower and forget the night ever happened.
But I don’t want to forget this night. I don’t want to forget him.
The butterflies are swirling through my stomach again, unfamiliar and uncomfortable, like I’m back in high school and figuring out this whole boy thing for the first time.
We reach the bottom floor and step out of the elevator. Then, before I can stop myself or think better of it, I look up at Sebastian and say, “I know a place where we can go.”
He widens his eyes at me, looking startled, and I laugh.
“Not like that.”
Even though the idea of that is a pretty delicious idea.
I bump him as he walks beside me, and his arm is warm against mine. More heat builds in my stomach at the light contact. “Are you in?”
It barely takes him a second to respond. He nods. “Hell yeah I’m in. Take me wherever you wanna go.”