Vegas
ESTELLE
The sun was just setting over the horizon when we landed in Las Vegas on another private airfield. An hour ago, I had adamantly opposed this.
Now I’m engaged.
Looking out over the clouds to steady my nerves didn’t help. Carlos talked with his security detail the entire flight—all fifty of them.
It turns out what I thought was a jet was more of a medium-sized plane. Go figure.
How rich is Carlos?
I tuned them out fifteen minutes into the flight and tried, instead, to wrap my head around the fact that this time tomorrow I will be Mrs. Fuentes.
Mrs. Freaking Fuentes.
I need to call Elsa as soon as I get to the hotel. There’s no way she will forgive me for telling her after I say ‘I do’.
Carlos places a hand on my back and gently leads me to one of the fifteen black SUVs waiting on the tarmac. Ross gets behind the wheel, and Grayson sits shotgun.
The last time I was in the car with these two was the day they picked me up from in front of my building—blindfolded and everything—and brought me to Carlos.
Now—
Fuck. I can’t even think about what we’re about to do.
His hand caresses down my back, causing goosebumps to break out across my skin.
“Nervous?” he whispers in my ear.
I want to lie, but instead, I nod gently. His head finds the crook of my neck, and his nose trails a path from my earlobe to my shoulder.
A fire ignites in my belly. I press my legs together, then my lips, when the tip of his wet tongue darts out to taste my sensitive skin.
“Don’t be,” he says and expels a long breath against the nape of my neck.
I almost groan.
“Two weeks was a long time, baby,” he rasps. “I want you tonight.”
I pull back to look at him. “The wedding isn’t until tomorrow.”
His brows furrow. “We’re not Mormons. We can fuck and still walk down the aisle.”
I snort, and immediately feel Grayson’s gaze on us in the rearview mirror.
“You’re incorrigible.”
He smiles. “Yes, I am.” He kisses my cheek softly. “Tonight, little dove.”
I want him too much to argue.
The neon lights on the Vegas Strip make me dizzy, but I force my eyes to take in everything. It feels like I stepped into Wonderland--excited and cautiously optimistic.
Somehow, I instinctively know that shiny lights could also spell trouble. The good kind of trouble, Elsa would say. I chuckle low and reach for my phone, finding my sister’s name quickly through my meager contact list.
I start typing a message but quickly delete it.
What am I going to say?
So...I’m in Vegas about to marry Carlos. Thought you should know. *Smiley face*
I stuff the phone back in my pocket without sending any message.
The car veers off the main road onto a curved driveway. I look up and barely manage to keep myself from gasping.
I stare, dumbfounded, at the tall Greco-modern building with tall pillars and Caesars Palace written in bold, glowing red letters at the top.
The car stops in front of the entrance, and Grayson swiftly opens my door. I step out in a daze, staring at everything.
Like a tourist.
“Impressed?” Carlos asks.
I turn to look at his smiling face. “I always wanted to stay here one day.”
He grabs my hand and intertwines our fingers again. “Good. I’m glad I get to be your first.”
The unmistakable naughty glint in his eyes makes my cheeks flame. We walk through the palatial lobby, past the Greek statues and sleek floors, and head directly for the elevators.
A few heads turn to look at us. It’s not every day you see over a dozen men in suits walking in a loose formation—obviously bodyguards—around a couple.
Then again, this is Vegas.
Maybe this is commonplace, and they’re just curious to see the celebrity couple.
Oh shit.
Are we a celebrity couple?
Does marrying a Mafia Boss mean there will be public interest in me now, or will all this be on the down-low?
Judging by the lengths Carlos goes to keep his pictures off the internet, I’d say he’s not interested in being easily recognized in public.
I release a relieved breath as the elevator doors open on our floor, only to choke back a shocked sound.
Golden tiles, golden walls, golden ceiling.
“This is us,” he says, and leads me to the door at the far end.
Half of our detail splits up toward the other rooms on the floor, and that’s when I fully understand his words.
This is us.
A whole floor.
The penthouse is exactly what I expected from a place like this, with the addition of Greek architecture. Sleek marble, golden elements, a spiraling crystal chandelier, and floor-to-ceiling views of the Las Vegas strip greet us.
It’s beautiful.
“I have something to take care of,” Carlos whispers into my ear. “I promise I won’t be long. There are clothes in the wardrobe. Your size.”
I pull back to look at him. “How did you have time to get me clothes?”
He presses his lips together, and I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes, probably wondering how much he should tell me.
“Carlos—”
“A while.”
The wheels in my own head start to turn. “How long is ‘a while’?”
He sighs, and I already know I’m not going to get an answer out of him.
Not tonight.
He leans in and kisses me softly. “Just a while. Make yourself at home. Wear something sexy.”
He gives me a crooked smile, and I shake my head as he turns to leave.
“Sweatpants and a hoodie. You’ve got it,” I call out just as he’s opening the door.
He laughs and turns to look at me in the open doorway, eyes glinting mischievously.
“Actually, now that I think about it,” he says, smirking, “I didn’t have them buy anything for you to sleep in.”
“Carlos—”
He closes the door before I can give him a piece of my mind.
Damn it.
The bathroom is a marble masterpiece. I shower quickly, the exhaustion from the day’s events catching up with me while under the blissful spray of water.
Wrapped in a fluffy towel, I languidly find my way to the walk-in closet twice the size of my bedroom and quickly realize Carlos wasn’t kidding.
No robes.
No pajamas.
I run my hands through the expensive evening gowns and day dresses, along with the style of pants I like. All expensive materials.
A sigh of exasperation leaves my mouth, and I wonder if I should just get in bed naked.
Despite the exhaustion slowly clouding my mind, I decide not to give Carlos the satisfaction just yet.
I start opening drawers.
Socks, bras, thongs—
Fucking thongs.
My cheeks flame at the thought of someone picking out skimpy lingerie for me.
My God, there are so many crotchless panties in here. I slam the drawer shut before I find something worse.
I walk to Carlos’s side of the closet, where all his expensive suits are hanging, color-coded, of course.
But that’s not what I’m interested in.
The first drawer opens smoothly, and I smile, finding exactly what I’m looking for.
Soft kisses peppered on my face wake me, and I open my eyes slowly, hoping I don’t have to leave my cocoon under the duvet.
“What are you wearing underneath?” Carlos asks, slowly pulling the thick duvet off my body.
“Is that...my undershirt?”
“Mm." I'm still half asleep.
He pulls the duvet all the way off and is silent for a moment before his soft chuckle has me opening my eyes fully to look up at him.
“My boxer briefs?” he asks, amused.
“They’re very comfy,” I say, voice thick.
Sleep starts to pull me under, and I’m ready to give in when I feel the undershirt start lifting over my chest. My nipples harden instantly from the exposed air.
“What—”
He lifts it over my head along with my arms, but instead of taking the undershirt all the way off, I feel him tighten the material around my wrists, twisting.
I’m wide awake now.
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