Chapter 26
Jamie: Guess where I am.
Kayla. Party with Ethan?
Jamie: In Vegas watching the Vanderbilt fight.
Kayla. No Way!!!
Jamie: If this is just a dream, and I’m really asleep on your couch, DO NOT WAKE ME.
Jamie
Ethan has arranged for us to have an enormous suite in the hotel for the night, so we can have dinner after the fight and not have to fly back right away.
The suite is so luxurious, it takes my breath away. It has two bedrooms, three bathrooms, a dining room and full kitchen. Its sitting room is bigger than my uncle's entire apartment. The furniture is white leather and chrome and looks too pristine to touch.
At the far end of the large room is a pool table.
Yeah, a pool table, for heaven’s sake, with a neat triangle of balls already arranged on the table, ready to play.
Even the air smells expensive. I can smell leather, the over-sized bouquet of fresh flowers on the coffee table, and the fruit bowl on the dining table.
A fully stocked bar runs along one side of the room, and while I wander around gaping at everything, Ethan pours us some drinks. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the glittering Las Vegas strip below. Everything feels surreal, like I've stepped into a celebrity’s life.
Walking toward the windows, my reflection ghosts across the glass.
I’m barefoot, having kicked my shoes off at the door.
The dress I’m wearing is one I got from the dress-fitting session Ethan unexpectedly turned up to, and looking back now, I’m glad he showed up.
Before then, I had little else but workout clothes, with a few other things I could wear to visit clients, or when I went out for drinks.
Now, I’m clad in blue silk, in a dress that’s loose enough that I can fight in it.
Even keep my miniature revolver tucked into a thigh holster, if I want.
But it still makes me feel… well, beautiful.
And I never would have picked out so many outfits if Ethan hadn’t insisted.
I glance over at him. Ethan leans against the bar as he makes a phone call, telling someone to have Marcus’s pizza and soufflé brought up to us in the suite.
"I'm still buzzing from the fight," I say when he hangs up. “In the sixth round, when Vanderbilt was on the ropes, I couldn’t breathe. But that spectacular come-back in the seventh!” I shake my head, awestruck all over again by the memory. “He’s an incredible fighter. I don’t think I’ll ever see anything like that again. ”
The match was better than anything I’ve ever experienced.
The roar of the crowd, the electricity in the air, getting to see my hero in person.
Our seats were so close, I felt like I was in the ring with the fighters, reeling with every punch, gasping for breath with them, my heart pumping out of my chest.
Ethan grabs his glass of scotch and hands me a glass of wine. “Good fight,” he agrees.
I choke out a laugh at the biggest understatement I’ve ever heard. “Good fight,” I echo, shaking my head. “Did you pick up any tips from watching them?”
He crosses to one of the couches and sits, stretching his legs out and resting his glass on the back of the seat. “I took careful notes.”
I give a disbelieving snort. “Every time I glanced at you, you were staring at me. Did you even see the match?”
"I watched it. And I watched you." His voice drops, so it’s low and intimate. “It was more fun seeing how much you were enjoying it."
“You need to study actual fights."
"I will." His lips quirk. "When there's nothing better to look at."
The compliment sends heat up my neck.
Ethan sits spread out, with his arm across the back of the couch, and his head at an arrogant tilt.
He looks supremely confident and at ease.
Totally at home in this luxurious suite.
He examines me with a dark, assessing gaze, as though he’s undressing me with his eyes.
As though he’s planning exactly how he intends to make love to me.
When he looks at me like that, my entire body reacts. Excitement coils low in my belly. My breasts tighten, my nipples hardening.
Trying to distract myself, I sip my wine, then fiddle with the stem of my glass.
“Come,” he says. “Sit.” He motions to the space next to him on the couch.
I hesitate, aware that we’re alone together, and we’ll be sleeping in the same suite.
Ethan must be far more sexually experienced than I am. It takes me a long time to trust people, and I’ve only ever had sex with two guys. It wouldn’t surprise me if Ethan is used to having that many women in a single night.
At least I know he finds me attractive. That’s been clear from the very first time we met, when I tackled him to the ground, and he ran his hand suggestively over my back.
The thought sparks a question. Something I’ve been wondering about.
"Tell me something,” I say, sinking onto the couch next to him.
“That night we first met in the gym, I’d sent you a message by mistake, thinking I was sending it to the guy I’d arranged to wrestle.
But you must have gotten a weird message out of the blue, and you’re not the type of guy who wouldn’t question something like that. So why did you just show up?"
“I was supposed to be going on a first date. I thought the message was from her."
"You called me Princess." For the first time, it clicks in my brain, realization dawning. Oh my God! Why hadn’t I connected the dots before? “Was that who you were meeting?” I demand. “Princess Ulrika?"
He nods. "One of my poker buddies set us up."
Jealousy spikes through me, sharp and sudden. "I knew you'd dated!" I exclaim, feeling sick at the memory of seeing them talking so closely at the party. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I sound jealous. Hell, I am jealous. A princess and a billionaire. She makes so much more sense for him than… what? An ex-criminal who can barely read?
“We only went out once. My friend thought we’d be a good match.” He sips his drink, acting as though it’s no big deal.
But I’m too restless to stay sitting next to him, and I stand back up, setting my glass on the coffee table.
“Your friend was right.” I try not to sound snide. “You two would be perfect for each other.”
He looks surprised, both by my reaction and that I’m now standing. “Obviously we weren’t,” he says. “Our date was…” He pauses to select a word, and finally decides on, “Anti-climactic.”
“Anti-climactic?” I repeat, pacing toward the pool table. “How could your date with a gorgeous royal princess be anti-climactic?”
He frowns. “Why do you think?”
“I have no idea! Did her crown have too many jewels? Were her glass slippers too shiny?” I hate how petty I sound but can’t seem to bite back my jealous tirade. “Was she too rich? Too clever? Her carriage pulled by too many white horses?”
Ethan puts his drink on the coffee table and surges to his feet. I step backward as he prowls toward me.
“My date was disappointing because I’d just met you.” His voice is low and dangerous. "I'd just been thrown to the ground by a stunning warrior in a red bikini. You make every other woman in the world seem anti-fucking-climactic.”
My heart stutters. Could he really mean it? It doesn’t seem possible that he’d choose me over the princess. But then, he doesn’t know everything about me.
"I had to sit through an entire dinner with Ulrika, and I couldn't think about anything but you." His voice is rough. His hand goes to my hip, his fingers burning through my dress. “I was obsessed with you. The way you felt. The way you moved?—”
“The way I tossed you onto your back?” It’s a feeble attempt to lighten the intensity of the moment.
My heart is dancing madly in my chest, and when he’s this close, his gaze so dark, I can’t think straight. His expensive, delicious cologne is like a drug. I can’t get enough of it. Enough of him.
“That too.” He leans in, his hand tightening on my hip and his eyes on my lips. “Everything about you.”
“Listen,” I say, pulling away. “Before this goes any further, I need to tell you something.”
He hesitates a moment, then moves back a step.
Now that he’s not touching me, I manage to drag in a breath that’s free of his scent, and my head clears a little, though my heart beats just as fast. He needs to know the truth about me now, before anything else happens. Before I get in too deep, let my guard down, allow him inside my defenses.
“What do I need to know?” His stiff back and suddenly cautious tone remind me that I’m not the only one with scars on my heart and unreliable people in my past.
“Who I am.”
His frown deepens. “I know who you are.”
I swallow.
I’m afraid to tell him the truth. Afraid he’ll see me differently. But he’s going to find out eventually. Better to pull the Band-Aid off now.
“When I was fifteen, I beat a man so badly, I put him in the hospital,” I say bluntly.
Incredibly, he doesn’t so much as flinch.
“Serious injuries,” I add, to make sure he’s getting it. “Concussion, broken bones, a burst eardrum, and he lost the sight in one eye. I’m lucky I didn’t kill him.”
His gaze stays level. “Did the guy deserve it?”
“That’s not the point. You need to understand that while the princess was at whatever fancy finishing school she went to, I was in juvie. If I’d been older, it would have been jail time.”
I don’t drop my gaze. It doesn’t matter what that rapist asshole was doing to my friend, the judge still decided I’d used unreasonable force to stop him. And it was true, I’d lost my temper in a way I hoped I never would again.
But I can’t hide from what I did. And if Ethan can’t handle the truth about me, I need to find out now, before it’s too late.
“Okay,” he says evenly. “Is that all?”
“Nope.” I take a breath, bracing myself to confess my other secret.
“The other thing is that as a kid, I missed a lot of school. I’m not educated like you are.
I can’t…” I swallow. “I mean, I find simple things hard. Honestly… I’m not even very good at reading and writing.
” I bite my lip, my face flushing with the shame of admitting my biggest weakness.
His expression gentles. “I don't care about that.”
“But you should! You go to fancy parties, and I don’t fit in. I can't make clever conversation about real estate, or places in Europe, or caviar?—"
"I hate caviar." He steps closer. "And newsflash, I’m not a fan of fancy parties either.”
"You've traveled the world. I don't even have a passport."
“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go." His hand goes back to my hip. His scent surrounds me, drugging me, softening me.
"And what if I don't want to go places?" I lift my chin, challenging him with my eyes. "What if I like my life the way it is? It might be small and basic compared to yours, but my boring routines make me happy. Scarlet took off with Balthazar, and they haven’t been back since. They’re going from one place to another, and she keeps talking about how much fun they’re having, but that’s not me.
I don’t want to spend months away from home. ”
“Okay. We’ll stay home.”
Frustrated, I shake my head. “But that’s your world! Those places you were talking about with the princess. Buying holiday homes and going to festivals in wherever-the-hell-it-was.”
“Listen to me, Jamie.” His voice is firm, and his eyes are turning stormy.
“None of that means a damn to me. I couldn’t care less about festivals or holiday homes.
And I like you exactly how you are." His gaze lingers on my lips.
“I don't need to take you anywhere to be falling for you. I’m doing that just fine right here.”
The world stops.
My heart pounds so hard it hurts. "Wait." I step back, feeling the edge of the pool table behind me. "You're falling in love with me?"
Ethan’s gaze jerks up from my lips to my eyes. He looks surprised by my reaction, then wary, as though he’s having second thoughts about what he said.
Then his jaw clenches. “It’s probably too soon to talk about love. But I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone.” He moves forward, eliminating the space between us. “You’re under my skin, Jamie. In my dreams. In every thought. Every breath.”
My skin tingles everywhere his body brushes mine. His confession hangs in the air between us, electric, dangerous.
I open my mouth, but no words come. My throat is too tight. My chest too full.
His hands go to the edge of the pool table on either side of me, caging me in. His heat surrounds me, and I can't think, can't process any of this.
"Jamie." His voice is rough. “Don’t freak out about what I said.”
I open my mouth to answer him…
Then there’s a knock on the door.