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They were right. He tucked the card in his pocket. His cousins shared a pointed glance, and Rem cleared his throat. "Umm, after you make the call you need to burn the card."
Leo lifted a brow. "You kidding me?"
Even Rick looked uncomfortable. "Just do it. Part of the rules."
"Then how'd you get your card?" he asked Rem.
"If they find you a match, they give you one card as your referral. You're mine."
This time, he couldn't help it. He burst into laughter, shaking his head. "I can't fucking believe it. You've all been bamboozled. You really think if you don't do these things something bad will happen?"
Rafe glared. "Don't give us any shit. It worked for all of us. We're trying to help your sorry ass. You've been moping around Vegas way too long about the girl who got away."
"She was a hell of a girl," he said quietly.
Rafe's face softened. "Not if she didn't think you were special."
All gazes swiveled to stare at Rafe. "That was poetic, bro," Rome said.
Rafe stuck up his middle finger and they all laughed.
Leo sipped his drink, falling into easy conversation about work and wondering why the card seemed to be burning a hole in his pocket.
Whatever. He had nothing more to lose. He'd make the call and put Scarlett Rose behind him as a beautiful memory.
***
Scarlett shook her sweaty palms in the air to dry them. Gross. Her heels clicked on the gleaming floor as she paced, staring at the door every few seconds. The hotel suite was luxurious and held a sensual vibe, but she didn't spot any special equipment or chains hanging from the ceiling. What if her date didn't show? What if this whole thing was just some lame joke? She hadn't been this nervous in a while, not since the night of the masquerade ball.
The memory stirred, along with her body. How many times had she woken up with his name on her lips? How often had she replayed their precious hours together while she brought herself to orgasm? When Hartley called and said Leo was desperate to track her down, she'd been overjoyed. Scarlett opened her mouth to tell her friend to give him her number, but when she pondered the consequences, she remained silent. It was better to keep her anonymity.
Her divorce chased her like a shadowed ghost, always a few steps behind. Her decision to leave Baltimore and move to Vegas was key in rebuilding her new life. For the first time, she stood on her own, and the power was a heady pill she greedily swallowed. When she thought of seeing Leo again, aching need mixed with a sinking fear she couldn't battle.
After only one night, she already felt attached. Connected. Her entire purpose was to free herself completely for the new adventure before her--not fall hard for another man. When he asked to see her again, she'd been desperate to say yes. But Leonardo Sinclair was a powerful man. His natural dominance and aching tenderness stirred something to life deep inside again, something she'd been missing for way too long. He'd shattered her completely and put her back together in a few short hours. How could she risk being involved in a new relationship so soon?
She just wasn't strong enough. Not yet.
So, she'd left her mask and Leo behind.
These past four months had shown her how much she'd grown. Her job as a statistician for the casino was challenging work, and she loved her new co-workers. Sure, she was spending most of her time at the job, but working with numbers and sorting through scenarios of how each fit into the real world defined an important part of who she was. Still, there was an emptiness inside that hadn't been filled since Leo. It was time to take another leap in her personal life and try to move forward. Calling the number on the business card her new friend had handed her seemed the perfect way to begin.
A soft knock vibrated on the door.
She dragged in a breath and smoothed down her form fitting skirt. Her date's requirements were exact. Black lycra tank top with a pencil skirt. Hair loose. Bare feet.
Red lipstick. No bra. No panties. Bare pussy.
She was ready.
Scarlett opened the door.
And came face to face with the man she couldn't forget.
Chapter Seven
IT WAS HER.
Scarlett Rose.
He stared at her framed in the doorway and for the second time in his life, felt the ground shift beneath his feet. His silly heart leapt at the same time his mind snapped to attention and strangled the burst of hope. This couldn't be real. Was she playing a joke?
She may have been wearing a mask the last time he saw her, but she'd imprinted herself on his memory. The pale, smooth skin. The way her inky hair tumbled over her shoulder in riotous waves. The heavy dark brows arched over those cat eyes, framed by thick lashes. The sharp, clean scent of citrus. exposing the elegant lines of her face, finally exposed to his full view. Her patrician nose emphasized her high cheekbones and full lips, stained the same dark red as that night.
His gaze swept over her lush figure. She was dressed to his specifications and so fucking sexy, his dick stiffened and pushed against his jeans.
The skimpy tank emphasized her stiff nipples pressing against the cotton, and squeezed her breasts together in a gift offered only to him. The pencil sk
irt showed off her hour glass hips and curvy ass, just like he'd hoped. Her toes were painted cherry red and gave her the touch of vulnerability he relished in a submissive.
He realized in that moment he'd dressed his date imagining her being Scarlett.
He'd gotten his true fantasy.
Her gravelly voice matched the one in his dreams. "What are you doing here?"
It took a moment for him to gather his composure and realize she looked as shocked as he did. "I signed up with Fanta-C. I'm supposed to meet my date here."
She blinked and grabbed the doorway as if she was faint. "So, did I. Which means--"
"We're each other's dates," he finished.
He'd gotten his true fantasy.
He shook his head and tried to clear it. "What are you doing here?"
"I signed up with Fanta-C. I'm supposed to meet my date here."
Leo studied her closely, but she looked just as shell shocked as he did. "Me too. Which means--"
"We're each other's dates," she finished.
She stared back at him with open hunger, and he realized this was the first time she saw his face without a mask. Anger stirred in his gut, the reminder of her total rejection burning through his veins like acid. He beat back the hesitancy and walked through the door, forcing her to move aside. The click of the knob as he shut it echoed in the silence.
"Did you know it was going to be me?" he asked quietly.
"No! I-I had no idea. Though I did ask for specific details." Her cheeks burned. Had she done the same thing? Requested the agency set her up with someone exactly like him to re-enact their night together? "What are you doing in Vegas?"
He crossed his arms in front of his chest and regarded her. "I live here. Why aren't you in Baltimore?"
"I live here, too!"
The bigger meaning of her answer broke through him, and once again, hope spurted up. All this time she'd been right under his damn nose. Wild coincidence? Dumb luck? Or Fate?
His body didn't give a fuck. Already, his fingers itched to touch her, rip off those clothes, and shove deep inside her hot, wet pussy. But he needed to know the truth before he decided how the evening was going to be structured. "Then I guess neither of us could have planned tonight. I reached out to Jonathan and Cruz, you know. To see if I could contact you."
