Chapter Twenty-Four
Tease
Juliet
W HY AM I SO SORE?
Oh.
Right.
I need to stop breaking the rules.
Or maybe break them more.
I’m not sure which.
Aching yet content, I dropped my head against the shower wall and let the jets hit my muscles.
It felt good, but the one at home was better.
When I was finished and dressed, I started to pull my hair up into a messy bun when I caught my reflection.
First, I saw the small smile that seemed to permanently tip my lips.
That observation was quickly forgotten as I took in the love bites that marred the skin. They were not subtle, but they were undeniably hot.
What is that man’s obsession with marking me?
Leaving my hair down to hide them, I went into the penthouse’s living room to find Marco waiting.
Sitting in a chair with a cup of coffee, he barely glanced up from his phone as he pointed to the kitchen bar. “Breakfast.”
I walked over to see a bowl of yogurt topped with fruit and granola.
My fave.
Sitting on a stool, I faced away from the kitchen as I held the bowl and ate. I checked everything out since I hadn’t seen it the night before. It was swanky, carrying over the color theme and wrought iron and mirrored details.
“What are those two doors?” I asked Marco.
He didn’t glance up. “Second bedroom and bathroom.”
He has the emotional range of a potato.
Setting the empty bowl down, I got up and…
Just stood there.
I knew I wanted to get out. Explore. See something. Do something.
I just had no idea what that something was.
After a few moments, Marco finally looked at me. “Want to go swimming?”
It seemed anticlimactic to do something I could do at home, but I did love a good swim. “Maybe.”
“The pool downstairs has a lazy river around it. Or you can use the one on the balcony.”
I’d thought he was kidding, but I should’ve known Marco didn’t joke. Or smile. Or laugh. Or feel human emotions.
“There’s a pool out there?”
He jerked his head toward the floor to ceiling windows.
Going over to the sliding glass doors, I peered out to see a small balcony with two lounge chairs and an infinity pool.
A pool.
All the way up, a billion stories in the air.
On the balcony.
It was terrifying. It was also beautiful, but there was no way in hell I was stepping foot out there when the design made it look as though I’d plummet to my death at any moment.
“I’d rather not die today,” I muttered, backing away as my heart raced and my palms grew clammy.
“Then what do you want to do?”
I thought about what I’d seen the night before in the atrium. “Uhhh… Arcade?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Or we can just hang here and watch movies?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Oh! We could get those big twisty cups with the blended drinks.” At Marco’s look, I added, “Mine being non-alcoholic, of course.”
“Whatever you want.”
“Is that all you can say?” I asked Marco.
“No.”
I growled my frustration, and it was small, but Marco’s lips tipped. Just a hint.
Maybe I’ve given him a tic.
“Can we walk the Strip?” I asked.
“No.”
My eyes narrowed. “You said whatever I wanted.”
“Boss wants you on the property, so anything you want that keeps you here.”
“So that means hookers, blow, and roulette are still on the table?”
Marco chuckled, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard it before. “No.” He picked up his phone and typed as he spoke. “There’s the arcade, bowling, shopping—”
“You’d go shopping?”
“You wanna shop, we’ll shop,” he said without a hint of a grimace or dread.
Babysitting duty must suck. What kind of badass wants to follow a woman around all day?
“I can always go on my own…” I started before catching his glare. “Never mind.”
Much like his boss, Marco was too observant and the pieces clicked. “You worried I’m gonna be bored?”
“Maybe,” I muttered. “I just feel bad someone’s always forced to babysit me instead of creating badass mayhem.”
“We’re not forced. Maximo asked, we agreed. We could’ve said no.”
That was surprising. I’d just assumed it was an order.
Maximo was good at giving those.
“And I don’t know what you think our daily life is,” he continued, “but Ash is currently driving Maximo all over the city. Cole is banging his head against a wall, trying to supervise a new booking system installation at Star. That ain’t mayhem.”
“Seems like you’ve got the better assignment,” I admitted because anything beat Vegas traffic or technology frustration.
“I do. But, Juliet, I’m a bodyguard. My job is to guard, not be entertained. I take it seriously. I take it even more seriously because one, I like you, and two, you’re important to Maximo. And him trusting me with you means I’d fucking eat a bullet before I betrayed that trust.”
It was the most I’d ever heard him say at one time, and he’d made it count. His words swirled around me like a warm sense of security I’d rarely felt in my life.
“Now I’ll ask again,” he continued, “what do you want to do?”
“Walk around and see the place.”
He jerked his head toward the room. “Put some shoes on and let’s go.”
Hurrying into the room, I dug around my bag for my gray shoes and slid them on. I came out to find Marco ending a call. He took another minute to type something on his phone before scanning his thumb to open the elevator.
Once we were closed in, I asked, “Can you add my thumbprint to the scanner or do I have to be James Bond?”
“Ask Maximo.”
“How many other people have access to this elevator?
“Ask Maximo.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you talk entirely too much?”
He smirked. “No.”
“I’m shocked.”
When the elevator slid open at the main floor, I followed Marco because my sense of direction was off.
Like the lack of clocks, the confusing layout was undoubtedly by design to keep people in the casino and spending cash.
We walked a different route than Ash and I had, but we still ended up in the atrium.
I glanced around, but none of the shops looked familiar. “Wait, this is a different place than yesterday.”
“Figured we’d start at one end and work our way across.” He turned into the first store.
I hurried to follow into the minimalist store. There were shelves displaying purses and other accessories, but not much else.
“I wasn’t planning on going in,” I whispered to him.
“How else are you going to see the place?”
Fair enough.
I didn’t make eye contact with any of the silent associates. I hoped they knew Marco and weren’t about to call security on us. Since the store wasn’t large and the bags all looked the same after the first few, it didn’t take long before I was done browsing. “Ready?”
“You haven’t seen everything.” Marco led me through an entryway that opened into another minimalist room. Only that one had something far more interesting on the white display shelves.
Shoes.
Purses weren’t my thing, and a year ago, I’d have sworn shoes weren’t, either. But that was before I’d known how it felt to wear a pair of killer heels or the comfort of shoes with support.
Some of the shoes displayed were so ugly, I couldn’t imagine anyone would buy them. There were others that were so gorgeous, I couldn’t imagine how expensive they were.
I looked longingly at a pair of sexy and edgy black heels with studded straps. I tore myself away from them, and Marco followed me out past the still silent associates.
No Pretty Woman moment happening here.
The next store was filled with display cases of watches. Watches were even less of my thing than purses, so we didn’t spend long in there, either.
We spent even less in the perfume store that gave me an instant headache and convenient mart with overpriced bottled drinks and candy bars.
I made up for my short time at the other shops when I stepped into a dress boutique.
Some of them were gaudy or formal. Others were clearly intended for a Vegas wedding.
But mixed in were some gorgeous pieces that ranged from cute sundress to sexy cocktail dress—including my lacy magenta one from the night before.
This explains how he sends me clothes so fast.
I took my time, my brain going crazy with inspiration I hoped I’d remember.
Once I was finished, we left and bypassed a men’s wear store, ritzy suitcases and travel items, and an entire store dedicated to blown glass.
That one was beautiful, but I worried I’d trip and knock everything over like dominos.
We rounded the atrium before Marco announced it was time for lunch. Going for food court Mexican—a good taco was a good taco—we sat in the crowded dining area and ate.
I had a mouthful of queso when Marco handed me his cell as it began ringing. “For you.”
Swallowing, I hit accept and put it to my ear. “Hello?”
“I texted you, Juliet.”
At the firmness in Maximo’s tone, butterflies raved in my belly and my clit throbbed.
Shit. I still wasn’t used to carrying a phone again.
“I forgot my phone in the room,” I admitted.
“It stays on you at all times from now on. Understood?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I said with only a moment’s hesitation. My gaze darted to Marco, but his expression gave away nothing.
Maximo’s tone softened. “Are you having a good day?”
“Yeah, it’s been fun.”
“I’ll be back for dinner. Plan what you want.” I could hear the smile in his voice when he added, “Just no hookers, blow, or roulette.”
My eyes on Marco narrowed to a glare.
Snitch.
Movement caught my attention, and I glanced over as a large table of people stood, others rushing to take their place. In the midst of the chaos, I could’ve sworn I saw my dad’s friends—well, former friend—Mugsy Carmichael.
Caught between wanting to hide in case it was him and wanting to confirm that it wasn’t, I froze. A pit grew in my belly and blood rushed in my ears at the thought of explaining why I was there.
It’s not him.
Just another wannabe gangster. Vegas is filled with them.
He may have spent more time in casinos than a nun in church, but it was still unlikely Mugsy Carmichael would be at Moonlight. It was even more unlikely he’d be in the food court area and not parked at a poker table until he ran out of money.
I knew that.