Page 20 of Billionaire In Vegas

“Stays in Vegas. Thanks for the reminder, Hank.”

I waved bye and hurriedly made my way to my room. I knew from talking to Hank that it was still really early, not yet 7 in the morning. I just wanted to sneak back into my room before the girls woke up and saw me.

I knew I’d get lots of questions, but I couldn’t face them like this. This was worse than the walk of shame. This was like the marathon of shame.

I got to the door and realized with a sinking heart that I didn’t have my key. Resigned, I knocked and then knocked again. I waited a few minutes and when no one showed up, I knocked again harder.

I heard the sound of the chain being removed from the door and sighed in relief as the door opened.

“Thank you,” I said to Misha who didn’t look in the least concerned that I was standing in the hallway wrapped in a sheet.

“I can explain.”

“You don’t need to. I already did,” came a voice from inside. I knew that voice and I felt my head pounding at the sound of it. Or maybe that was the hangover. I didn’t know.

“Jude,” I said shortly, trying to muster some dignity as I stuck my nose in the air haughtily. “What are you doing here?”

He was standing in the living room of our hotel suite, relaxed and handsome. And of course, well put together. It pissed me off that I was the one looking like an escapee from an insane asylum and he looked like a young version of Patrick Dempsey.

“I’m just returning this,” he said, holding up my shoe. “I guess you left it in your haste, Cinderella.”

His tone was mocking and I wanted to punch him. I refrained. I’d been in enough fights in Vegas. I didn’t need to lose another one.

I walked over to him as gracefully as I could. I heard a noise from Misha and realized that she was trying to cover up a giggle. I shot her a cold look and she promptly exploded in giggles.

My lips tightened and I moved to snatch the shoe from Jude’s hands. He pulled his hand back at the last minute and said, “Hey, no snatching. Play nice. I’m sure you were raised better than that.”

I rolled my eyes and snatched the shoe out of his hand. “Thanks. Now go.”

“We need to talk,” he said trailing behind me as I made my way to my room.

“We have nothing to talk about...”

I then shot a glare at Misha, “I can’t believe you let him in.”

Her eyes grew wide in disbelief and she said pointedly, “I can’t believe you let him in... either... if you know what I mean.”

“Nice, Misha. Real mature,” I said, knowing I was misdirecting my anger. She wasn’t the one I was mad at. No, only Jude deserved my indignation and anger, so I turned on him.

I poked him in the chest with my finger. “You need to leave right now! I’ve had enough of you and your shenanigans. Ever since I met you I’ve gotten into one stupid situation after another and you know what the common denominator is?”

“Uhh—”

“You!” I said, poking him with more force. “I wish I hadn’t said yes to your father, because it’s been one nightmare after another.”

“And I’m to blame for that? I’ve spent the last 24 hours saving you from yourself.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re a hypocrite. You pretend to be all respectable and saintly, when you’re just like the rest of us... except you’re undersexed and uptight. Well, not anymore. Not after last night.”

I smacked him across the chest with one of the shoes. “How dare you judge me! You don’t even know me. You’re just a spoiled rich boy with too much time on his hands. I mean look at you, your father is dying and where are you? Here! In Vegas! Partying! Preying on innocent women—”

“Innocent?” he spat out. “You’re far from innocent. You had your hands down my pants before we even left the bar.”

“Liar!” I yelled, but instantly felt guilty. He was right. As soon as he said it I remembered doing it.

“Stop being a prude,” he said hotly. “God, I like you better when you’re drunk.”